I have a feeling people won't be happy with this one. Hey, I just write the story that comes to me from the prompt. I think they're good, but I know if I read this I'd be frustrated. ;)
Me and Darkheart were hunting. Finally alone. We stood side by side, ready to pounce on a mouse. We sprang. I landed first, but the thing struggled out from under my paws before I could kill it. Darkheart jumped in and grabbed it before it could scurry away. "Nice job," I mewed in a forced way.
I hated it. She had everything. Skill, the mate I had wanted since we were kits, the position of Deputy, and all the love of the clan. My own mate, he hated me, along with my kits.
How did it all go wrong for me. We were exactly alike, at least in appearance. Black cats with yellow eyes and long legs. The only difference between us was a scar on the bottom of my pad. Our clanmates often mistook one of us for the other. So why did she get it all?
"You'll get the next one, Nightclaw," she smiled. "It was just bad luck."
"Oh, I know I'll get my next prey," I growled, tail lashing. She didn't notice the hidden threat in my voice. She turned her back on me like the fool she was and started to sniff for more prey. My control snapped. I leaped on her, hissing and clawing.
Flesh ripped under my swipes. She fell under me with a gasp. "Nightclaw? WHA-" her words were cut off with a well aimed swipe at her throat. Blood bubbled from the cut. Her words came out gargled as her yellow eyes widened in confusion and fear. I could see myself in her eyes. And the fear I braught. It felt good.
"I got it," I growled as Darkheart's eyes glassed over, never to open again. I felt elated. She was gone, there was just me. And then I had an idea. A wonderful idea. I lifted up one of her paws and cut into the pad with one of my own claws. When the cut looked like my own scar, I ran my claws criss crossed across my own scar so it was no longer noticeable.
Now limping and blood covered, I raced back to camp. "Everyone," I called in my best scared voice. "It's Nightclaw, she's dead," I wailed.
As expected, they took the bait. They ran to Darkheart, and thought she was me. I played it up real good to. Made them think a rogue got her, and that I wounded my paw trying to save her. Goldenrush, Darkheart's mate, helped me back to camp and nursed my pad.
I was Deputy now, with kits that loved me and the mate I always wanted. I had Darkheart's life. The perfect life.
I was Darkheart now.