November:

If you're used to my writing you'll probably know: this isn't gonna be tame kitties play fighting. Expect psychopaths and blood. Part of this is T/Wed for violence but if you're in the Warriors fandom chances are you can handle it.

Redleaf hated Gorseskip. She hated her with every fibre of her being.

She hated her fluffy grey fur and her blue eyes that always seemed to sparkle with optimism. She hated that she always did everything with a smile on her face and her light giggle at the ready. She hated Gorseskip for being the deputy of the Clan that had taken Sunningrocks, hunted on ThunderClan's land, and killed her brother - poor, autistic, fragile Sparkpaw.

She'd tried so hard to protect him.

She'd fought for his life harder than for hers.

She'd failed.

She was successful now, deputy of her great Clan, but no one who mattered was still there to see it.

As if to rub it in her face, Gorseskip had become mates with the most attractive, funny, charming tom in the forest, Breezerush. Not that she wanted Breezerush for herself. She just wanted a good life.

Redleaf dug her claws into the ground, head raised high and teeth slightly bared in the smallest hint of a snarl. Gorseskip returned her dark green glare calmly.

"This is my last offer, Ripplestar." Blazestar's voice was final. "Either you give Sunningrocks back peacefully and stop hunting on our land, or we can fight."

RiverClan's tiny silver-grey leader smirked. "I don't think you understand the odds here, Blazy." The golden tom growled at the nickname, making her smile wider. "We have more warriors, better-trained warriors. We have a trustworthy deputy and a capable leader. We win either way."

Blazestar stiffened and flattened his ears at the implications, but, before he could react, Ripplestar turned around, waved her tail, and disappeared into her den. Gorseskip dipped her head respectfully before following her leader, but Redleaf didn't miss the satisfied grin on her face.

"Wait," Blazestar ordered. He wasn't shouting, but his voice, full of command, carried through the camp, the RiverClan cats gathered around, who had started to stalk closer to the undefended deputy and leader of ThunderClan, stopping in their tracks. Ripplestar didn't bother to get out of her den.

"What?" She drawled loudly, purposefully rude. Redleaf hissed quietly as the cats of RiverClan around them looked at each other, wondering what would happen.

"I have a proposition."

Redleaf threw Blazestar a panicked glance. This hadn't been part of the plan. Admittedly, the plan hadn't been that well prepared, banking entirely on the chance that Ripplestar would choose not to fight.

Ripplestar padded out, her deputy close behind. "Do you give up your claim to Sunningrocks?" A cold, mocking gleam glittered in her dark yellow eyes. "Or are you going to rush into a fight headfirst, as usual, Blazy?"

Blazestar took a deep breath. "No. I'm offering a fair fight in two days from now, at dawn. On Sunningrocks."

"Blazykit wants to show his claws," Ripplestar smirked at Blazestar's answering growl and Redleaf almost choked on her anger. The nerve of her! "Very well."

"See you there." The muscular golden tom signalled to Redleaf to follow him, a faint regret barely discernible in his voice.

"Not if I see you first." Yellow optics narrowed, hard as steel. Redleaf was sure there was no heart under that neatly groomed white chest fur. Blazestar turned around, only for a moment. But the dark ginger she-cat noticed the light of betrayal in his amber eyes as Ripplestar stood, stoic and unfeeling, returning his hurt gaze with a look of ice.

Redleaf didn't dwindle on that thought, spitting at Gorseskip and turning around before she could see Breezerush and her friend, Petalbloom, rush to her side.

"Streamstone, Kingfisherdive, Sunsky, Minnowflash, escort them to the border. Blazy needs someone to hold his paw." Ripplestar ducked back into her den without another word.

"Shut up, for once," Emberhawk snapped at his incessantly chattering friend, Frostfeather. "It's a serious time. We have to win against RiverClan."

Frostfeather's blue eyes quickly found the floor, and he looked abashed. "I'm sorry. You wanna retry the move on me?"

"No, no, no, don't apologize, Frostfeather!" Emberhawk backtracked, hating to see his friend like this, instantly feeling guilty. He took hold of his emotions again and made his tone sterner. "You know I don't like it when people apologise for nothing."

Frostfeather instantly perked up. "Cool! So do you want to keep training?"

"Kinda tired, but we only have a day until the attack." Emberhawk wanted to rest, really, and the white tom in front of him probably saw it.

"I'll go train with Stripecloud if you want to lay down for a moment," he suggested. "I'll be fine."

Emberhawk sighed. "Thank you so much. Wait - Stripecloud?"

"Yup," Frostfeather confirmed and skipped away.

Watching the two train was like watching kits with surprisingly good moves mock fighting. It was all good humour and playful banter, and Emberhawk found himself seething as he watched them. Frostfeather was his best friend, and, if Stripecloud thought she could slither in between them, she'd be found dead in the forest in a pool of her own blood.

The grey-and-gold tom immediately regretted the thought. Stripecloud was a Clanmate. And Frostfeather was a social cat who was going to have friends everywhere, but Emberhawk had to trust him not to be closer to anyone than he was to Emberhawk. Except maybe his future mate. Somehow, he found the idea displeasing. He threw Stripecloud a nasty look. If she made a move on his Frosty, he swore he would hurt her.

He shook his head. I can't keep thinking stuff like that. It's just wrong. She's my Clanmate. But he couldn't stop it. And he hated it.

Instead, he focused on Briarfall and Roseblossom's spar. The senior warrior sisters were fighting as if they always knew what each other's every next move would be, and they probably did. They fought with controlled jabs and a glint of relish in their eyes, clearly enjoying themselves, forgetting why they were training and losing themselves in the moment.

He hadn't noticed his thoughts drifting, but the next thing he realised was that he was watching Stripecloud again, wondering what his sweet, gentle Clanmate would look like with bite marks in her neck.

He got up and bolted out of the clearing, trampling undergrowth and ferns, rushing straight through a bramble bush but not caring about the pain as thorns dug into his skin. He couldn't take this anymore. The guilt of those thoughts was eating away at him. It had to stop. He couldn't be thinking those things. It wasn't him. Unless you're just a lying fake and it's just the real you.

Stop. StarClan, please, make it stop.

Two straight lines of cats stood, facing each other. One line was slightly plump, though muscle still rippled under shining, wet pelts. The other was bulky and powerful, mostly varying in shades of brown.

Both were bristling, hissing, jeering, snarling, yowling insults.

Redleaf loved it, and, claws out, leered into Gorseskip's grey face. "We. Will. Win."

I will destroy you.

The RiverClan deputy gave a small, knowing smile. "Think whatever. This battle is already won."

"RiverClan, attack!" Ripplestar screeched as, close by, she launched herself at Blazestar's much larger form. Immediately, Redleaf jumped onto Gorsekip, but the slimy coward dodged and disappeared into the fray.

The two neat lines had disintegrated into a writhing, clawing, spitting mass of cats.

(sorry for A/N in the middle of text, this is where T/W applies)

Redleaf, furious, scanned the chaos of Sunningrocks for an opponent. Her green gaze zoned in on Breezerush, who was fighting her Clanmate Dustfern not far away. Shoving Dustfern out of the way, the ginger she-cat snarled as she pounced on the sleek black tom. Claws out, she aimed for his back, clinging on as he bucked, trying to free himself from her grip, raking at his flesh and tearing out his fur. He screeched in pain and writhed to get away from the spitting dark ginger mass of Redleaf. A wave of slow satisfaction lapped lazily at her as she felt droplets of blood well between her claws.

Breezerush's death wouldn't be clean. It wouldn't be quick. It wouldn't be nice. It would be slow and messy and probably feel like a wildfire was sweeping through his body. Redleaf enjoyed that thought as she pulled on his ear until she heard a small tear, then yanked in one fast, jerky move, purring at the warrior's shriek of pain and alarm as he realised that his ear was getting torn out. He was bloody and battered and tufts of his fur littered the ground closest to them. He would look much worse by the time Redleaf was done with him. She smiled.

Feeling Breezerush's life seep out with his blood between her teeth and claws should have been enough, but it wasn't. Her hunger to fight - to kill - wasn't sated. Yet. Now Redleaf prowled the edges of the battle, looking for an opening where she could jump in a tear someone else apart.

There.

Movements perfectly controlled, gaze perfectly clear, she leapt at the nearest warrior. Bluefish had had their ceremony only a few days ago, and the ThunderClan deputy knew that fighting wasn't their strong suit. She purred as Bluefish disappeared under her, giving a yowl that they choked on when Redleaf pressed her claws against their blueish throat. Slowly, her motions jagged and jerky to be as painful as possible, she drew them through Bluefish's flesh, their scream gurgling to a stop as the light dimmed in their eyes. Redleaf jumped lightly off them.

She smiled.

T/W over for now, basically Redleaf killed Breezerush and murdered a cat called Bluefish.

Oh no.

Emberhawk couldn't believe he'd lost sight of Frostfeather. He felt like that was impossible, Frosty had been chattering irritatingly at his side less than a few minutes ago. He'd been right there when Ripplestar attacked. They'd fought off the senior warriors, Blackfin and Shimmerlake together, and now the tom was just gone, disappeared into the fray, and Emberhawk scrunched up his brow, trying to discern his brilliant white pelt in the writhing mess of battle.

He'll be safe, he tried to reassure himself. He's great. He can take care of himself.

Maybe he's gone to fight with Stripecloud.

Emberhawk ignored the thought, though it made his insides burn with a searing fury.

It would be so easy to make a death look accidental in the thick of battle…

He snarled at himself in frustration, then tried to calm down and force the image of a dead, scarlet-soaked Stripecloud down, the type that his mind just wouldn't stop throwing at him.

He would fight RiverClan cats and leave her alone.

A brown-and-silver shape hurtled towards him and shoved him to the ground, clawing fiercely at his stomach fur. Emberhawk attempted to hit back but his paws were trapped under the other tom's weight. He drew his head back up from where he was biting at the grey-and-gold tom's ear and Emberhawk got a good look at his face, quickly identifying him as Stormgale.

Trying to bite at his muzzle, the grey-and-gold warrior managed to get him to back off a little, enough for him to free his forepaws and push him off. Landing with a slight stumble on his two back legs, Stormgale attempted to regain his balance for a second attack. Emberhawk reared up as well and crashed down on top of the RiverClan tom as Stormgale reacted too late. He bit down hard on the enemy warrior's shoulder, pulling as if to tear the flesh off the bone. Stormgale wriggled free, giving a yowl as he ripped his shoulder free, and fled. The last Emberhawk saw of him was a silver-and-brown blur disappearing into the river with a small splash.

Not even pausing for a satisfied smile, Emberhawk whirled around and dived back into the battle, pushing cats aside, looking for Frostfeather. What if he was hurt? I should never have lost sight of him, he blamed himself. If he's dead it'll be my fault.

White pelt - no, it was just Shellcreek from RiverClan. Ignoring the battle raging around him, he searched frantically for his best friend.

There. Frostfeather. And he wasn't with Stripecloud, he was alone, holding his own - but clearly struggling - against Brightfrost of RiverClan. Emberhawk raced to them and jumped straight at her, shoving her away from his friend and clawing at her in a screeching, tumbling, spitting mess of tails and paws. There was no grace in that fight. All the carefully learned moves were forgotten. It was just Emberhawk and Brightfrost. Brightfrost who had been trying to hurt Frostfeather. As the calico she-cat scrambled away, the ThunderClan caught her tail between his jaws and pulled, making her stumble. He raked his claws over her cheek and bent down to whisper into her ear.

"You. Never. Touch. Frosty. Again."

Brightfrost gave a small, jittery nod and Emberhawk let her go.

He turned to Frostfeather. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, thank you for defending me. But you didn't have to."

"I wanted to," he said. "And I was pissed at Brightfrost for criticising, er, Briarfall, last Gathering." That was a lie, but the white tom didn't see through it.

"Thanks, anyway," Frostfeather said. There was a silence, only half-filled by the screeches of injured cats battling for their Clan, for their safety, for their lives, even. Everyone knew there was a death every time, most often accidental. Emberhawk shuddered as a scream ripped through the air. What kind of warrior would kill another on purpose?

"You wanna go… fight stuff?" He suggested. His friend nodded, face uncharacteristically grim.

"Let's go."

Two warriors fighting together were better than one. Especially two who could recognise each other's moves like they could their own, two who anticipated every movement from their partner, two who knew each other. As they flung warrior after warrior out of their way, Emberhawk reflected that he loved the Clans' way of fighting. It was what set them aside from loners and rogues; it was what made them warriors.

That was why is skidded to a stop, froze, and stared in horror when he caught sight of Redleaf. What was she doing? Why was she fighting Darkfin, a ThunderClan warrior? Her muzzle was twisted in a snarl but she was purring through the blood that ran down her face and into her mouth as she clamped her jaws around her own Clanmate's dark brown throat. She shook her hard, almost lifting Darkfin's small, sleek body off the ground, with a savage kind of glee that scared Emberhawk more than he thought anything could.

Frostfeather was backing away, hackles raised and blue eyes wide with fright. "What is happening?" Emberhawk hissed at him, panicked. "You know what, I don't even want to know. But what's Redleaf doing? She's our motherfucking deputy!"

"I- I think Darkfin's dead…" Frostfeather's voice was a barely audible whisper. The grey-and-gold warrior pressed closer to him, into his bristling white fur.

No one but them seemed to see the look in the deputy's eyes, crazed, drunk on her bloodlust and hooked by the screams of the dead or dying victims she left behind.

Redleaf tossed Darkfin's broken body aside - the ninth one she'd killed, she'd been keeping track - and licked her claws clear of the blood until they were completely clean. She examined them carefully. Not a speck on the gleaming, pure white, sparkling, deadly talons. Satisfied, she lowered her paw and looked around. She wanted to stop playing around with random cats. There was only one who she had a real desire to kill, the only one whose death would really mean anything.

Goreskip.

She briefly wondered if the RiverClan deputy knew that this was her last day of life. When she leapt at her target, claws outstretched, the expression of sheer terror on Gorseskip's face told her everything. She gave a reassuring purr as she began to bite chunks of flesh out of her chest and shoulders, and giggled slightly when the grey warrior cried out.

Redleaf realised vaguely that Gorseskip was hardly fighting back, frozen in fear, maybe. Or perhaps she'd realised there was no way to survive this anyway. That meant she could take her time. She could slowly torture Gorseskip, make the last one a drawn-out, agonizing, horrible death. The thought sent a dreamy smile wafting up on her face. She was going to love this.

She bit at Gorseskip's muzzle, hard enough only to scrape her flesh and leave shallow scratches. Then she slotted her claws into the small marks and dug them into Gorseskip's face, enjoying the scream she got in response as she savagely raked them across her pretty features.

"What is she doing?" Emberhawk hissed for the tenth time. "She's trying to maim Gorseskip?"

Frostfeather retreated deeper into the shadow of a large rock. "What if she comes after us next?"

The splotched warrior hated to see his friend like that. He hated to see his optimism and smile gone. He slid out his claws. "I'll make sure she doesn't."

Nobody would come after his Frosty.

One last, deafening screech came from Gorseskip's exhausted, battered body, and Emberhawk realised, his eyes widening, that she was dying. And Redleaf was turning in their direction. Her claws were soaked with blood, some already half dry and crusted from her previous victims, and some dripping down to the ground. A soft smile lit up her face.

Frostfeather's blue eyes were filled with genuine fear, and that was what made Emberhawk launch himself towards Redleaf. Unbridled rage and the memory of Frosty's frightened expression made his blows imprecise and unfocused, but fast and powerful. Redleaf hit back with recreational ease, drawing blood every time she caught her target, more accurate, swifter, more nimble than he was.

Emberhawk heard a purr rumble in her throat as she struck him down. He hit the ground heavily, the sound seeming to reverberate around him and turn to an insistent ringing in his ear. He was bleeding, he noticed idly. He had whole patches of fur missing. He had deep bite marks everywhere. She left me for dead, he realised. It hurt, but he hardly paid attention. He could hear the spirits of StarClan calling to him, see the stars in a dark sky though dawn was long past. Maybe it was his time…

Then he heard Frostfeather's scream. Everyone had stopped fighting, but no one was jumping in to protect his friend. He wouldn't die. Not yet.

He knew it was cowardly to attack from behind, but it was the only way. He jumped at her back, every ripped and damaged muscle screaming at him to stop, that he couldn't do that, that he was too in pain, too tired, too afraid - so, so afraid.

He bit down on her neck, heard the snap of his jaws as they met. He'd missed the small, easily breakable bones that would have killed her instantly. But it didn't matter. It was over.

Redleaf's eyes widened in shock as she felt teeth dig into her neck. She was going to die. She didn't care who had killed her. But she was going to die. Was this how Sparkpaw had felt? Or had he been wrapped up in his own world again, that world that he'd invented from his own mind, that had been created solely from his imagination? He hardly seemed to register the real world around him at times. He didn't answer when his name was called, didn't seem to care. Had he heard the whispers of the stars, calling to him? Or did he hear nothing, like so many times when he was alive, and keep thinking his mysterious thoughts that he never talked to anyone about?

She'd been shattered at his death but had quickly realised she'd only get cut if she tried to pick up the shards of her broken heart.

Now she'd taken revenge. It was over. It was nothing like the stories the elders told; she didn't have a metaphorical hole inside her, eating her from the inside like an analogous worm through crowfood. She didn't, figuratively or literally, drown herself in poetic tears as she realised the horror she had committed. She felt no guilt.

Just triumphant elation.

It was funny to see the shocked relief on their faces as they watched the life pump slowly out of her throat. She grinned. It was funny how they thought they'd won.

She'd won, really. She'd achieved what she'd wanted. She'd killed Gorseskip. She'd avenged Sparkpaw. And, though death was already beginning to dim her dark green eyes and grip her heart in icy talons, she knew she'd done what she was always meant to do.

It was physically painful for me to write "friends" when Emberhawk and Frostfeather interacted. Physically painful.

Also I hope I did okay with, y'know, Sparkpaw. My knowledge of autism is pretty limited.

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~Crystal