Palestrike watched in disbelief as Buzzardear ran away, leaving her alone with the corpses. She looked around, puzzled. There were more then she remembered… scores of them, drowning her. Her mother. Her father. Ripplefang, Sunlily, Turtlewing. Even her prep team buried her in the rising flood of the dead. Her Clanmates, her fellow tributes… everyone she knew. Only Buzzardear was absent. Kits who screamed for her help but always seemed to die anyways… cats fro stories of TigerClan and LionClan and LeopardClan and such. Rogues, kittypets, loners. Rabbits. StarClan cats and Dark Forest cats alike, frowning and drowning and drowning in their own fur, which faded into nothing until they left just sacks of bones that burst open and clattered all around Palestrike, pulling her down into the tide of faces and bodies that resurfaced, whole again, and started the nightmare all over again, each time somehow adding fresh horrors. Her screams were drowned by theirs, by the dying. Over and over and over…
Palestrike awoke, screaming, when rain gushed around her, lifting her up. For a second she was still in her dream, still drowning, but the icy cold sheets of water woke her up. She scrambled out of the pit, shaking her pelt out, and had barely found a bush to shelter in before StarClan sent her the blessed sleep of the tributes, to show the dead.
It was almost as painful seeing their faces the second time around. Eaglestorm, ThunderClan. Leafshadow, RiverClan. Was that really all? There seemed to be so many more. Palestrike woke up from this blessed sleep into a worse, murkier reality. For a second she contemplated, focusing on not the future, but the past. And even worse, the present that seemed so far away it was surreal.
All of ShadowClan must be grieving now. Duckfang… Oakstreak had killed him to save Palestrike. How they must hate her now, so close to winning. So close. But no, not all of ShadowClan grieves. Buzzardear is one of their number. If she won, they would never recover. Never treat RiverClan with fairness and respect again.
She had killed Ripplefang from their Clan, too. Who had kits. Who had a mate that may have thought he would come home. That now has to raise her kits alone.
Her Clan had done so much damage. Leafshadow had killed Eaglestorm, from ThunderClan. Sunlily was killed by a Clanmate. Brackenstorm would be furious. Turtlewing, who killed Shadedpetal of WindClan. She had killed him too. Darkflicker hadn't had any chance to kill. He had been gone third. By Adderglow, who had been killed by Oakstreak, who killed Copperflash, from ThunderClan.
Her allies. She hadn't allied with her Clan except for Leafshadow. Who Buzzardear had killed. Lizardclaw was from ShadowClan, the Clan that had killed so many others. And Lilytrickle from WindClan, who had killed Leafshadow. Her Clan, hurt again. Leafshadow, from her Clan. Now that she thought about it, Leafshadow and Darkflicker were her only Clanmates Palestrike hadn't personally killed. But Adderglow was in Oakstreak's Clan, who she had allied with.
Oakstreak, killed in the arena. Oakstreak, who had sought her out and asked to ally. How had the crowd been bored by that? He had killed someone from his own Clan, who had killed someone from hers. And yet, he wanted her. He had killed Copperflash, too. From ThunderClan. His Clan. Oakstreak, and Palestrike, the traitors who hurt everybody by being friends. Yes, friends was an appropriate term. They had both killed two, from their Clan. Half of her kills. Her kin. Sunlily was her friend, Darkflicker had trained with her. Turtlewing, her practical brother. Dead, dead. Her ally's kill seemed like hers now.
ShadowClan had a reason to hate her. ThunderClan. But Flowerpebble was killed by Buzzardear. Maybe WindClan didn't completely resent her? Blackrush, their own tribute, had killed Petalflash, another of theirs. Lilytrickle's death was an accident. Tigershade was killed by Shadedpetal. They surely must hate themselves more.
But no. Shadedpetal was all Turtlewing's, all RiverClan's. But maybe it wasn't enough.
Nothing was enough anymore.
Palestrike hadn't even realized it had stopped raining until it started again. She shook her head, considering her options. Buzzardear wouldn't find her. She would have to find him. She licked her wounds, wincing at the pain, and stretched. It seemed like eons, but she managed to scrape up a rabbit. It felt good in her stomach as she traveled. She followed Buzzardear's scent, careful to act like she was on top of things. No question the warriors at home were watching this live this time, eyes on her. Maybe a brief cut to Buzzardear once and awhile, if he was traveling. The weariness in her bones form malnourishment and fitful sleep wore at her, making the journey three times as hard. It couldn't weaken her resolve, though.
She was going to win this thing.
Palestrike marched on as the day grew warmer, filling the air with heat and ceasing the rain. She hopped through or around puddles, tracking invisible scent. All she knew is that her prey was near the mountains. Her stomach turned at the thought of the spot of Oakstreak's death, but she marched on.
At dusk she stopped to rest. Palestrike found a juniper bush with a hollow inside that she managed to push her way into, earning a few thorns to her side. She scraped together a collection of dead leaves and a bit of shriveled moss before going under.
No deaths that night, obviously. Palestrike woke up to a bright, cloudless day. This was the day, she thought. The day she left or died. It didn't take her long before a scent drew her up sharp, ears up and fur on edge.
Buzzardear.
He stalked, smiling, out of the shadows, and in the moment it took for her to recognize him, he was on top of her.
Snarling, biting, kicking, screeching. Growling, clawing, warm, wet blood. Pain. Repeat. Palestrike was submitted into this vicious cycle, but she fought back with a vengeance. Ripping pelt underneath her paws, biting down on scarred flesh. Twisting around and raking claws on belly. Getting a torn ear in return.
She didn't know how long the fight lasted, but after a while… was it her imagination, or was Buzzardear slowing down? Losing momentum? After a while more, she decided he was slowing down.
But so was Palestrike. After a while, her brain felt like it had fallen into the consistency of mud. Her thoughts whirled around, consisting of things like Swipe. Ooh, that hurt. Duck now- Great StarClan, you're useless. You had a great shot at his belly there. A twirl? Nice touch, goofball. Waste your energy. Smart move. He shouldn't have done that. Pow! Nice hit, worthless. You're getting a bit better. Bang! Crash! Boom! You're killing it! and so on.
She never saw it coming, the sudden end to the fight. She had just pounced, hoping to get a good grip on his shoulders, but when she did he rolled on top of her. Not one to be defeated, she swung her body around, toppling him over and landing her above him.
Now Buzzardear stared at her, eyes wide and scared. "Please." Came the hoarse whisper. "Fast. Please."
Palestrike just stared at him. Was she really about to kill him? Take his life for her to prosper? Seemed just like something she would do. Despicable, but true. She started to step off of the tom. When she had finished, he slowly got up and brushed himself off. Buzzardear looked at Palestrike, suspicious.
"What. Was. THAT?!" Came the scream. He glared at her. "What kind of fight was that? You had me pinned. You had me beaten. And yet you let me live." He started to pace. It was surprising how easily he turned his back to her to whirl around. Too easy, almost. Unaware of her discomfort, he continued. "How weak can you be? You don't deserve this. You don't deserve anything. Not your life." He finally stopped.
"That you for the gift of letting me take that away from you."
The sudden attack wasn't enough warning, not enough time. She was pinned to the ground before she could do so much as think. His paw raised above her, ready to rip open her throat once and for all, and she had an epiphany.
Buzzardear knew that the audience wanted a good show. That they would be miserable without. That they thirsted for blood. He had known that she would pull away if she pleaded. To be attacked for her mercy, and to die at his claws. To win like a victory should.
In other words, he had used her.
And it was this final revelation that gave her the strength to fight. She pushed him off of her, toppling him, and had lunged and ripped out his throat before he could even blink. A thunderclap thanked her. She slumped to the ground, just relieved that it was over. She heard one last thing before she passed out, Amberstar's voice.
"She-cats and toms, I present to you Palestrike of RiverClan, and the victor of the First Thinning Games!"