Wow... Well... I haven't been on in quite a while... Sorry for the very long delay on updating. I had a plan for this chapter for quite a while, but I never quite got around to writing it. Hopefully I should be posting a few chapters this week to help me get back into a routine. Anyway, here's the chapter. Enjoy!
Daisyfur
Daisyfur stumbled through the forest, sheltering when she could in trees and bushes, watching out for the threat of other tributes. She new for a fact that most of them were already gone. She had made it much farther than she had expected. She still doubted that she would win, but she would try harder. For Roseclaw. Although it sickened her, she couldn't help thinking about Dawnpelt's death. She would try to win without any more kills, but she knew she couldn't last that way forever. She counted off the tributes in her head. She knew the whole of Shadowclan and Windclan were gone.
Only Stormkit, Yellowfang, Bumblestripe and herself left. Wow. A tiny part of her brain couldn't help but whisper- 12 down, 3 to go. She knew she couldn't bring herself to kill Bumblestripe. Hopefully he wouldn't kill her either. She could tick off Stormkit as not a threat too. He would barely know how to kill, let alone have the guts to do it. He was merely a kit, and she probably wouldn't have to kill him. Natural causes could do thay. But that was bad thinking. That was loser thinking. Every cat could be a threat. She needed to remember that she was here to win, and she may just have to kill a kit, even if he was harmless.
As for Yellowfang... She knew that Yellowfang was nice... Sort of. But Daisyfur could bet that Yellowfang would be trying her hardest to win too, and no matter what or who she had to attack, she would do it. But then again, it was hard to tell with Starclan cats. Especially Yellowfang. Daisyfur had never met Yellowfang, so she could be completely wrong about her.
Daisyfur heard a rustle in the branches above her, and panic suddenly jumped her back into the arena. She breathed a sigh of relief as she realised that it was a bird, and not an enemy, but she quickly put up her guard again, disappointed that she had become distracted so easily. In the forest games, concentration was vital to any cat who wanted to win. If she struggled to concentrate now, who knows if she would be able to avoid an ambush.
She allowed herself a quick glance up at the top of the dome, wanting to see familiar faces. Instead of comforting her though, seeing her clan made her feel even more homesick than before. She knew that if she lost, she would never see them again. If she won, who knows if they would even want her? They had all seen what she had done to Dawnpelt. What if they didn't want a killer? What if they exiled her? She quickly looked away, scolding herself for getting distracted once more.
Her rumbling stomach pestered her, signalling that it was time to eat. Daisyfur leapt down from the rough tree branch she had been resting on and began sniffing the air. It was around noon, so prey should have been plentiful, but it was swelteringly hot. Daisyfur had hardly noticed when she was in the shade of the canopy, but as soon as she left the tree she was hit by the scorching rays of the sun above, magnified by the focus of the large dome. She quickly stepped back into the shade, scenting a squirrel and wanting to get away from the heat. She climbed back up her tree, deftly leaping towards the scent. Her stomach rumbled consistently, reminding her once more that it was time for food, and hurrying her along the scent trail.
When she finally reached her squirrel, she wasted no time leaping on it from above. It squeaked in surprise, but she cut its cry short by swiftly biting its neck. She was quickly reminded of Dawnpelt and withdrew her head as quickly as possible. For once, she understood the fear that prey felt. She had been feeling it the entire time she had been in this awful arena. She quickly swallowed the food, letting her stomach fill up and cease the rumbles. She decided if she was going to win this game, she was going to have to make a game plan. After a long time of careful thinking, she set off, looking for a certain grey cat.
Stormkit
Stormkit quivered in the shelter of a fallen oak. He was not used to this territory. He was boiling hot, and terrified, with no river of pond to swim in to cool down. He had hidden in his oak for a long time, but he wasn't sure how many days. He knew it had been at least one because he had checked outside a few times and he had seen the sky change from light to dark to light again. In fact, he had no idea how many cats were dead. He was scared of dying. Just the idea of never seeing his family or friends again scared him out of his wits, and he huddled further back into his oak every time he heard a bird call or a bush rustle.
He was thirsty, hungry and tired. He had slept very little, and he had never actually learnt to hunt, despite his efforts to copy the apprentices as they practiced or played. He realised that if he left his tree, he could be killed, but if he never left, he would die from the thirst, or the hunger, or the sleep deprivation. Well, probably not sleep deprivation. He could, at the very least, sleep.
He wandered back towards the entrance of his tree to see if the time of day had changed. To his surprise, there was a pile of prey at the entrance, along with some soaked moss. His first thought was too sprint out and bet to that intoxicating, delicious food as soon as possible, but he hesitated as he remembered where he was. There were only two ways that this food could have randomly appeared at the entrance. One, that he had been sponsored by a member of the dark forest (highly unlikely) or two, some cat in the arena was helping him (still highly unlikely, but plausible). If it was another cat in the arena, it could be an ambush. Then again, why wouldn't the cat just enter the tree trunk if they wanted him dead? There was only one entrance, and a full-grown cat could easily block that entrance. The food could be poisoned... But why would a cat waste time poisoning food for a kit that they could easily kill it without taking that much time?
He decided to take the food into his trunk to inspect it. He darted out into the open, grasped the prey in his tiny needle-sharp teeth and hooked the moss in a claw. He sprinted back into the shelter as quickly as he could, surprised and relieved that nobody tried to follow him or catch him. He was just about to devour a mouse before he remembered that it could be poisoned. He sniffed it and turned in around, inspecting it thoroughly before relaxing. He bit into the tender flesh and flavour exploded in his mouth. It was easily the best prey he had ever tasted, but that could have just been his lack of food beforehand. He took a long, refreshing drink from the soaked moss (also after inspecting it, he wasn't taking any chances) before finally lying down on the wooden base of the tree trunk. He couldn't help but wonder who had given him this prey, and why somebody would do that for him. Despite this, for once since his name was called at the reaping, he felt content.
Bumblestripe
Trees rustled around Bumblestripe. The sounds never seemed to cease. His eyes darted around as he slowly began to spiral into paranoia. Why? Why hadn't he see any other cats yet? Surely there had to be someone... He shook his head. No! He would not become like that. He would remain cool, calm and collected, even if it took the last of his strength not to worry. He had to. He stumbled through the forest, coming to a large fallen oak trunk. A good place to rest. He lay down inside it, jolting up again when he heard a squeaking sound coming from the back. He turned around, but it was night now, and very dark.
He tried to assure himself that there was no sound there, and he was just being paranoid, but the noise didn't go away. He squinted through the darkness, and noticed the outline of a small shape on the base of the trunk. A kit? But that couldn't be right... Wouldn't he have scented another cat right behind him? He shuddered to think that he was so out of focus that he didn't even know when a cat from another clan was right next to him.
A thought occurred to him. He had promised himself that he wouldn't hurt any more cats, but this kit would probably die from natural causes anyway. Better to end the poor thing's life quickly rather than let it starve... Right? He reassured himself that he was going to do a good thing. The tiny kit's eyes shot open as Bumblestripe padded up to it. What was its name again? Stormkit. He was going to wipe out the remaining Riverclan. The thought comforted him. Perhaps it was a good thing. This way, only a Thunderclan cat could win! After all, Yellowfang used to be a Thunderclan. The tiny kit squealed and yelled at him to go away as he lifted a claw and pressed it to the tiny cat's throat.
Suddenly a ball of hissing grey fur pulled him out of the tree trunk and stopped him from hurting Stormkit. He hissed in anger, believing that this cat wanted Thunderclan to lose. What if this cat was conspiring against the clan? What if they were a traitor? After all, both of the other cats should have been in some way loyal to Thunderclan! What if it was Daisyfur, trying to help Riverclan win? What if his own daughter was trying to kill him?! What if Yellowfang was spying on him? Could it be that she had somehow followed him without him noticing? Why would a Thunderclan/once Thunderclan cat try to attack a fellow Thunderclan?!
The cat spat and hissed and Bumblestripe noticed the ragged, unkept pelt and the large yellow eyes full of disdain. So it was Yellowfang! Yellowfang pinned him down and he struggled to get free. He went limp, trying to get her to relax her grip, but she wouldn't fall for a trip as old as that. She held a claw to his throat and the realisation began to sink in to Bumblestripe's mind.
"Don't you ever dare hurt that kit." She hissed angrily. "He is innocent, and he never did anything to anybody!" She bit into his neck, and the pain overtook him.
It gave him some brief clarity, and he realised what he had been about to do. The one thing he had promised himself when he had stepped into this arena was that he would not ever become like Tigerheart. Mad and bloodthirsty. As the darkness closed in around him, he realised that that was exactly what he had been like.
"Th- thank you." He choked out, not exactly knowing why he said it. She had, after all, killed him. He just couldn't help thinking that maybe it had been for the best. Back in the shade of a cool oak tree, Daisyfur heard the yells of her father and became even more set on finding the one grey cat.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed on the last chapter, I never would have written this one if it wasn't for the constant support I get from all of you. Sorry for the long delay, but I hope enjoyed! Feel free to give me any constructive criticism, and I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as possible. Bye!