A golden warrior sat on Sunning Rocks, glancing around. His brown eyes shone as his golden-brown fur reflected the setting sun.
Suddenly, his muscles tensed, his fur prickled. He was being stalked, and he smelt his opponent.
He whirled around, but it was too late. A white cat zoomed into view as he bowled the tom over, pinning him down.
"Get off of me-" The tom yowled, trying to claw his evenly matched attacker.
Then the tabby tom squinted, "Snow-Snowkit?"
I growled, baring his fangs, "Snowfang...I'm a warrior."
It was Brackenfur! Then my paws felt weak, my claws ached to sheathe them again. This was Brackenfur, my hopeful mentor when I was in ThunderClan...so, so long ago.
Brackenfur pleaded, "Snowfang! It's me! Don't...You don't know what you're doing! The Clan has been so worried! Your mother hasn't been able to eat or sleep or anything! Come back to us!"
I tensed. What if this was true? What if the Clan really wanted me back? Then my mind went crazy.
The wild wanted me more. It was better being a rouge because you didn't have to follow StarClan or anything. You could be free, if you were quick. You could hunt and eat anything and anytime you wanted!
I hissed, swiping my claws across his throat. He was dead, right there, now, bleeding, at my paws.
I didn't regret it. Even as sickening as it was, I felt...proud. Happy. Care-free.
My eyes turned to slits. I was officially a killer.