The metallic, rotten scent struck the scarred tom's nose. He coughed, he never tasted or smelled so many blood and flesh since the last battle. He didn't took notice of his patrol sprinting across the clearing and took on big, bloody warriors from the opposite clan. Turing away he was focused on one thing only that was in front of his old-gold eyes: cats going inside the Doctors' Den!

Why?

They're ruining herbs for the clan! Yowls of anger and woes was coming from the said den, stabbing Fangclaw's heart and made his ears pound blood. Instinct took over his control, and dashed to the entrance, then halted. The tom ignored the hissing and spitting that surrounded him and peeked through the lichen-entrance as he hoped that no clan-cat caught him spying.

"Stop! You shall not destroy my clan's only herbs!" an angelical voice mewled. Autumnwind.

Fangclaw forced his right eye wide open enough to see the scene that was folding.

"Shush it, we don't want to harm a gorgeous she-cat like you," one cat, a brown warrior -definitely LeafClan (Fangclaw once saw the fuzzball in the battle)- spoke out. He had his big unsheathed paw on the Doctor's neck. Behind him was a tortoiseshell she-cat who seems to be destroying the herbs. The leader let out a shock gasp. Enough of this terror, he unsheathed his yellowish claws, prepared to jump at the gigantic brown tomcat.

Bam!

Pain stirred in the sides of the leader as he tumbled down and banged his head onto the big tree stump. Ringing and pounded blood in Fangclaw's ears, and his eyes were hovering around in each corner, making it difficult to know where or what he is looking at, making it difficult to see his attacker. He snapped his head over his shoulder, finally seeing a golden pelt with multiple black dots. The leader noticed that pattern from before, but his mind blocked his entry to memory lane, but he did knew that this was the cat who attacked him. Claws still unsheathed, he plucked the ground of ClawClan soil and crawled away from his attacker.

The pain got worse, this time on his neck. Lifted off the ground, Fangclaw thrashed his ginger paws around like an angry kit. Then he was tossed aside, into the Leader's Den, unable to be seen by his companions - at least he was let go, right?

"So you think you can get away with this? " meowed a disembodied, yet familiar, voice.

"You think you can make us gone just in a snap?" the voice spitted his comments as the attacker gripped onto Fangclaw's scruff again. "You think you did the right thing by making us suffer?" Fangclaw, who's vision still messed up, tried to fling his claws everywhere, but it didn't work for that his attacker haven't howled in pain or whimper nor let the ginger warrior's scruff go. Finally, he gave up his hope of fighting back.

"StarClan forbids your clan, and shall let my clan live here once more." the throat of the leader was now in searing pain as it got bit down by the other tomcat. Blood dripped from Fangclaw's throat, and all he could see is the grey stone and the circling darkness around him as he tried to fought for air.

Darkness half-way down to end the leader's life. Fangclaw stared blankly at the darkened stony ground. In a heartbeat, the weight that hold him up was lost and the scarred tom dropped on the cold stone.

Thump!

The tom took a breather, locking dull eyes on the ground again as the blackness fades from existence. Able to cope his vision, he slid his blank stare and lock it on the right side that shows the entrance of the den. there, he watched, was the attacker being scratched on his spine by another tom that wore a silver pelt patted with markings.

Troutclaw!

Fangclaw was shocked; the ambience of heroism had inspired him, he thought to himself. But new blood started wafting towards the leader, making his gaging reflexes to activate. He was jaw-opened as the scene fought longer. The soaring pain of the limbs prevented the warrior to help fight with his buddy. Sadly, Troutclaw had only gave the attacker a few scratches and a torn shaped-V ear. Then the Right-Hand was flung out of the leader's den, being chased by the pelt of black splotches.

As heartbeats came and flew, the old tom pushed himself; although his limbs shriek in protest, he ignored the pain and dashed to see what happened next. He knows that his faithful friend will win, but will they? Anxiety bubbled inside the leader's belly... then it was horror that took its place.

No...NO!

Fangclaw backed away, traumatized to see his silvery friend lying on the blood soaked grass that came from - oh gosh.. the cut on the throat. Spew was crawling out of the leader's own throat. In a heartbeat, he blew out chunks that splattered onto the blood floor, mixing a rotten, putrid stench that made Fangclaw's face turned green. He may have saw dead bodies before his life, but the injuries on Troutclaw was horrific...He had never saw such a throat slash so deep and long.

He ran away from the dead Right-Hand, sick of the bloodied scene. He pushed through the bushy entrance and into the territory without a thought, not learning that he just left his injured clanmates behind. A set of pawsteps followed the leader. Then heavy breathing came from the noisy source... then a hissed. But those sounds didn't clutched on Fangclaw's attention. He ran as fast as his bloodied, wounded limbs can allowed.

Trees begin to run out, giving away an empty grass steeping up into the hill. The hill that held the battle between two clans. The world became higher, and the wind pushed the whiskers of the old tom as he continue his frightened run. The hill sloped back down to more moor grass that Fangclaw pushed his body-brakes, but it wasn't enough. He slid down, with one hind paw farther away from the left paw. The right was caught by a visible, stunted rock, twisting the paw. Then the leader tumbled the rest of the way down. Pain stirred inside the strained paw. He just wanted to leave the horrific events that occurred in the leader's mind.

An heartbeat later, and the set of pawsteps came back, louder and louder as it got closer. Reluctantly, Fangclaw twisted his face around to look straight in the eyes of his attacker with the pelt of yellow and the splotches colored in black. But all he saw was the fiery pelt of Foxwhisperer.

"How can you leave us like that?" he asked, glaring down at his leader. "Get your lazy ass up and come back to the camp, you crowfood!"