She saw Jerah three days later. He and his followers left her alone like he said, but as soon as he had need of her, his black pelt haunted her fence. She padded back to her clearing at sun high. She had just come back from a successful hunt and was about to lay down for a midday nap when she spotted him.
He sat atop her fence as he gazed around her living space. Three of his guards sat at the bottom of the fence, but they were not paying much attention to the surrounding area. They acted as if nothing could touch them, as if they were the scariest things around. Her tail lashed. They were pathetic. How had these cats defeated warriors who were disciplined and skilled? As she neared though, she had her answer.
Jerah spotted her first. As soon as his welcoming call sounded, the three toms stood, and she was put off by their immense size for a moment. These cats were all brawn. Her Clanmates were smaller, but faster. But if a large group of cats like this attacked, she understood why her Clanmates had fallen.
"Ah, Leera, I've been waiting for you," he purred in greeting. Her nose twitched as she scanned the guards. They flanked out behind him.
"So, I see," she murmured and raised her eyes back to his. "What do you need me for?"
"Walk with me and we will talk along the way," he suggested, and he padded back into the dwellings. She followed him with her head held high as the guards flanked in around her and Jerah. These toms did not intimidate her. He led her the familiar path back to his camp. Once again, the path did not deviate nor hint at any deviations. This was the one and only way to the camp.
"What did you need me for, Jerah?" She reiterated. He tsked, flicking her shoulder with his tail.
"You're in such a rush, little Leera," he chided as if she were a kit. Her tail tip twitched but she stayed silent. "You see, my cats do not think a Clan cat, or a forest dweller as they call you," he let out a sigh, "can hold their ground. They think, like your Clanmates, you are weak. They also think that a she-cat, so small and fragile looking as yourself, could never win against them." She choked on a growl of defiance. She had been trained. These cats only learned through their scars. They were not smart. She had stood toe to toe with some of the biggest warriors the forest had ever seen and beaten them. She was not a hot-headed new warrior. The seasons might have been kind to her, but they also taught her valuable lessons. She was not inexperienced.
"Now," he started, "I tried to get them to believe me. I stood up for you. I knew what kind of cat you were. I saw your scars," he gestured with his nose to her shoulders and neck, "but they wouldn't listen. They want to see you in battle." She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This was a test. These cats wanted to test her strength.
"So, they want me to fight." She summarized. He nodded vigorously.
"Oh, yes," he said. They approached the passageway into Jerah's camp. The overwhelming scent of cats flooded her senses, and she spotted a large crowd of cats gathered around in a circle, chattering and whispering. They lined the walls and two leg rubbish. She lashed her tail, daunted for a moment. She had no idea this many cats lived here, let alone believed in Jerah's rule enough to start a war.
The guards broke off from her and Jerah as they stopped in the middle of the circle. Her heart pounded, ears vibrating with the sound or maybe it was the tenor of voices echoing around the passageway. And then silence. She turned to look at the black tom and his tail and muzzle were raised to the sky.
"Cats, you have come to see the fabled warrior from the Clans!" Jerah yowled. Jeers and taunts rose around her. She stiffened and flattened her ears. She was just a show, entertainment before they returned to her Clan and slaughtered her Clanmates. Anger, burning blue and cold in her chest, simmered at her toes. "I have brought you, Falcondust! Today she will prove whether or not she deserves her true name in this fight to the death!" He shouted over the noise. She spun on him with a snarl.
"You did not tell me murder would be a part of this ridiculous show!" Jerah stared at her smugly, flicking an ear.
"You need to prove yourself. If you kill at least one cat today, I will know you belong among my cats. I will even let you have a place among my closest. You have valuable knowledge of the forest, Leera, but I will not let you destroy what I have worked to achieve—"
"Worked to achieve?" She scoffed. "You murdered to get your leadership. You terrify everyone—"
"If you live," he raised his tail and silence descended once more, "you can argue that point with me. But for now?" He tilted his head and four cats creeped out of the crowd, claws unsheathed, and fangs bared. "For now, prove yourself in battle." With that, Jerah turned and took a seat on top of his wood pile.
"Let the fight… begin!"
Two seconds was all the preparation time that had been allotted for her, but for the moment, that would be enough. They had surrounded her on all corners. Big, thirsty for blood, but their arrogance would make them sloppy.
A tom leaped. She dipped lithely to the side, balanced on her paws. The crowd yowled and snarled and cheered each time a cat leapt for her. It was deafening. Each different voice pulled her thoughts, but she needed to focus. There was four of them. They each took turns leaping and swiping. A blow hadn't landed on her, but that was because they weren't coordinated. Once they learned that she was fast enough to evade them, they would change tactics.
She leaped nimbly away after the last tom leaped at her, her tail tip twitching close enough to the crowd she could feel the whiskers of the cats behind her.
The toms surrounded her and advanced.
"You're a coward!" One tom spat. "Running away from us every time. Fight back!" She had never taken a life. It had been trained into her by Oakstar. The Warrior Code said it explicitly. Life was to be respected. Every time she hunted; she respected the life that fell under her paws. The prey died so she could live. And that deserved respect. Jerah must've known that the warriors didn't kill or tried not to. She resented him more in that moment than anything. She did not want to become her father. He was forcing her to. She glanced at each cat. They would die so her Clan could live. These cats would die so others could live. Just like prey. She locked eyes with Jerah, and his amber eyes flashed with encouragement.
She would sink her teeth into his neck before her mission was over.
"StarClan," she murmured, "give me strength."
"What? What are you—" She launched herself at the dark tabby tom closest to her in one bound. The tom took a step back, confused, just as her claws raked across his face and her teeth found the spot between his shoulder and neck. Not quite a killing blow. She would have to practice finding that mark. She fought back the feeling of satisfaction as her teeth sank through flesh and muscles and blood flooded her mouth.
Warm and full of life. His surprised screech of pain and terror met her as claws sank into her back and she was yanked back from the dark tabby. The tom stumbled and she hit the ground with a gasp, fur dangling from her jaws. The tom who had grabbed her pinned her to the ground. He was heavy and strong. His claws sank into her soft underbelly. She relaxed a fraction. If she thrashed, it would make the wounds deeper. She was smaller and he was arrogant.
He lunged for her throat, and she threw her head forward. Her head rattled as it collided with his, but he froze for a moment. She scrambled out from underneath him and turned, light as a feather, to sink her teeth into the back of his neck. He yowled and threw his head back and she used the momentum to fling herself up onto his back. She sank her claws into his pelt and held on for dear life as he thrashed around.
Her teeth and claws sank deeper until finally, he reared up and fell backwards. She cried out as he crushed her and scrambled out from underneath him as he regained his feet. She leaped away to regain her breath and check for wounds.
Right now, she only bore the marks on her underbelly, but they stung with each breath, and she could feel her fur start to soak with her blood.
Despite her pain, she saw the tom she had originally attacked. The dark tabby lay on the ground, trying to breathe. The toms had pulled him out of the way to let him avoid the fighting and now they were getting ready to face her. The tom she had just finished clawing to ribbons shook out his pelt and faced her again.
She needed to kill them. All of them. These cats wouldn't stop until she had completely shed the Clan cat from her skin.
And so, she launched herself into battle.
Her claws met their mark, ripping through flesh and soaking pelts with blood. She fought paw to paw with two toms at a time, turning to rake claws down one while the other recovered from a blow.
It went like this for some time. Her fur matted with her blood and theirs. She bore their marks just like they bore hers. But they were tiring. They were built for brute force, not endurance, and so she lasted much longer than they did.
The first tom fell under her claws on accident. As she turned, a snarl ripping from her throat, her claws met the soft underside of his neck and blood poured out like red rain on the ground below her. His gasp turned into a gurgle and time froze. The battle around them stopped for half a heartbeat. The tom took a step back, stumbled, and hit the ground.
She stared, unseeing. She hadn't realized how red blood was. It sparkled up at her like a twisted pond that she could perhaps fish in if it were a little larger and deeper. She had seen blood pool like this before. Her Clanmates blood had pooled and soaked back into the forest floor. It had never been this red before. The color of life. The color of rage and anger. The color of passion. Oakstar was considered red, but he was darker. This… she stared.
"Dusky!" A single voice cried from the crowd. This tom had been loved. Someone cared about him. It was silent. This is what the rogues had done to her, to her Clan. They had taken her Clanmates lives. They had killed cats that she loved and cared for. They had come into her home, threatened her Clan, and believed they could continue without repercussions. The voice of Jerah echoed dully in the back of her skull and her remaining attackers fell back into the crowd.
She turned to face Jerah. The black tom watched her steadily. She held his gaze and did not bow her head. Well, they were wrong. She would be the repercussions even if she had to kill every single cat to do it.