Warriors of the Sea Challenge: Paradise: Deals with Demons

A black tom sat alone, on a rock at the very edge of a clear pool of water. His clear, fiery amber eyes watched from the shadows the miniscule ripples lapping all around the stone hollow. The tom was solid black at a first glance, but upon a closer inspection he had even darker spots, like the fabled LeopardClan cats of old. The tips of his ears were a flaming ginger, his paws the same; the tip of his tail faded from pitch-black to the same hue of orange. The moon shone up above, huge and blue, casting a soft blue sheen on everything the light touched.

He stirred as, at the edge of the stone clearing, a cat emerged from the mist-shrouded forest, seemingly the exact moment the moon reached its peak in the sky. The new cat was as shrouded as the forest, but smelled of a hint of damp, stale darkness as well as the cool forest fog.

"Leopardspot," the cat greeted, her icy blue eyes glinting as her sleek silver tabby form separated from the trees, shining amongst the dark gray rocks.

"Sleetstorm," he greeted curtly. "I presume you know why I'm here?"

"You're the first here on the night of a blue moon," she meowed softly. "The lucky One," she added.

The tom narrowed his flaming eyes at the slight sound of mocking in her voice. "So I am. What of the others?"

Sleetstorm sighed. "The few who knew of this old tradition and dared to try will never awaken from the slumber that they hoped would bring them here. Their potential, what they can never be, now, but what they would have been, will determine the outcome of your Wish," she explained.

"I'm well aware of that," he mewed. "But tell me, how great is their potential?"

Sleetstorm sat across the pool from him, closing her eyes. She opened them with a saddened shake of his head.

Leopardspot blinked sorrowfully. "But I cannot refuse, now that I am here?"

She shook her head. "You are the One, now," she meowed. "You must make a Wish, and hope it turns out for the best."

He bit his tongue, thinking. What did he want that the Pool would not twist into a nightmare? Certainly not a mate, he thought. She could easily be a horrible cat. As could the members of any family. I would do well, he pondered, to be alone. Yes, that will do nicely.

Leopardspot opened his jaws, but hesitated. "I Wish to be alone," he whispered over the Pool, sending ripples outward from her breath.

Sleetstorm peered into the pool and flattened his ears, eyes widening, at something Leopardspot could not see.

She blinked up at him. "I'm sorry," he breathed. "I'm so, so sorry."

Leopardspot steeled himself, preparing for the Dream he had Wished for which had been turned to a Nightmare. There hadn't been enough potential in his competitors for the wish, and now it would have been better if he had taken one of their places and died in his sleep as they had, waiting for a Wish that would never come.


A tiny black tomkit blinked open his amber eyes, filled with curiosity.

Cats stood, talking over him, of things he couldn't yet understand.

"His mother didn't survive… or the siblings… father, of course, abandoned him..."

He was bewildered. In his tiny kit mind, he knew he shouldn't be here. He wanted to be away from these cats, away from everyone. Why was he here with them? He wanted to leave. For now he would rest, he decided, letting out a tiny yawn and curling up, not a care in the world.

Suddenly he was awake again, alone, in a mossy nest lined with fluffy, downy feathers. He batted at them, taking tottering steps after the ones that were blown away by his clumsy pounces. Soon, the nest was scattered and the kit was dozing in a heap of feathers he had managed to chase down.

He woke with a start as he heard a shriek, leaping up from the pile of feathers and sending them whirling about the den.

"What are you doing?" A cat scolded, frowning down at him and baring its fangs. "No! Bad kit! Don't mess up the nest like this! It took me ages to find all these feathers!"

The tomkit flattened his little ears, wobbling backwards. He was confused. What did the big cat have to be so mean about? He'd only been playing. He let out a mewl, blinking; his tummy hurt, and he was tired all of a sudden.

The cat sighed, picking him up. The black tom found himself soon again back on the ground, near a warm body. He could smell milk. Searching for the source, he half-crawled to the scent, only to be pushed away.

"I won't have enough milk for my own kits," someone snapped. "Look at him. He's weak. He won't last long anyway- just put him out of his misery."

"It won't be for long," someone else sighed patiently. "Your kits and this one will be weaned soon enough. It's not as if they'll starve- I'll make sure you get plenty to eat. Besides," the cat added in a lower tone, "It's not as if Hakan isn't adopted, too. Why accept him and reject this one?"

There was a mutter, and then the little kit was placed next to the warm milkiness.


It was a few moons after his birth- six, to be precise. The black tomkit had been named Huracan after his fiery spirit. His adoptive parents, Silva and Donum, gave him what he needed to survive, but nothing more. Their own kits, Meraki and Caeli, were a few moons younger than Huracan, and he was careful around them. Sometimes they showed him compassion, other times disdain, but that was only normal for siblings; they squabbled amongst themselves, but if Huracan joined in he'd be blamed and punished by their parents.

Meraki was kindest to him, but she was shy. Caeli and Hakan were inseparable. Hakan was another stray kit they had found and taken in. He was older than the two sisters, but younger than Huracan. Since Caeli and Hakan spent so much time playing and getting into trouble together, they had little time for Huracan.

Meraki was a naturally skinny cat, no matter how much she ate- which was often, despite what other cats might have thought on a first impression. She was a brown tabby with long fur with a reddish sheen to it, like Donum her father, and she had golden-orange eyes. Her disposition was quiet, but she opened up quickly if she felt comfortable.

Caeli was more like her mother, Silva. She had a soft gray pelt with faded gray stripes and a light underbelly; her eyes seemed to change from blue to gray quite often. She was just as quiet as Meraki, except around Hakan, of course. She wasn't friendly, but wasn't hostile, either.

Hakan's fur was a bit more red than Meraki's, and his stripes were spotted and black instead of a dark red-burgundy. He had green eyes, though; not blue or golden. He was more suspicious than his adoptive sisters, and liked to observe while Caeli or Meraki did the talking.

Huracan decided that he would stay with them until he learned to hunt. That would be on his own, as Pebble and Branch were busy teaching their kits, as well as Hakan by Caeli's insistence.

He didn't know why he stuck around. It would be better to be alone. So, one day, after he had made his first kill and brought it back, only to have it snatched from him when the kits pouted that they wanted to catch prey too, he left, offended.

Huracan bristled. "I actually caught something," he complained. "Can you not just ignore that and give me some credit? I learned to hunt on my own and I'm doing better than they are."

Silva rolled her eyes. "They're kits, of course they haven't caught anything. They're younger than you. Step up and be the example."

"How is catching prey being a bad example?" Huracan snapped. "If anything, it's a great example, because you obviously haven't taught them right when all they do is whine and complain and fail." He spat. "Have you seen them 'practice'? All they do is goof-off and mess around. I actually took the time to practice and then, when I'm successful, you're mad at me?"

Silva bared her fangs. "Don't talk to me like that. I'm the one who took you in and fed you as a kit."

Huracan sniffed. "It's not like I chose to be stuck with you," he growled. "I can't wait to leave you. In fact," he added, padding over to the raven he'd killed, "I think I will, since I can hunt now."

Silva's face contorted. "How dare you leave without repaying us for what we gave you?"

Huracan stopped, exasperated. "Made up your hare-brained mind! Do you want me to hunt or not?! No," he snapped. "I'm leaving. And I'm taking my kill with me." He stooped to pick it up, backing away rapidly when Silva darted in front of it and swatted it out of his paws.

"You owe it to us," she snarled. "Without us, you wouldn't even be here. Actually," she bristled even more. "You shouldn't even be here! Get out and don't you dare show your fox-hearted face here again!"

Huracan let out a snarl. "Give it back! I don't owe you anything! You've never helped me; I've figured my life out on my own. I was your test, for the Stars' sake. You screwed me up and screwed me over, and no matter what you think you'll do the same to your other kits. I've been alone my whole life, but at the same time no one will leave me alone. Give it back and leave me alone!" He advanced threateningly, trying to prove a point.

Suddenly, Donum appeared out of nowhere, bristling. He charged straight at Huracan, yowling.

Huracan let out a yelp. Before he could snatch up his raven, Silva took it. Donum slammed into him.

"Don't you dare ever threaten my family or my mate again," Donum spat. "Or I swear I'll rip your throat out."

Huracan's fur bristled with terror. He let out a screech as Donum charged him again, and sped off, fear making his paws light. The forest blurred around him, foliage whipping his legs and chest and face as he sprinted, Donum hot on his paws.

He didn't realize how tired he was until he also realized that his adoptive father had stopped chasing him. He stumbled to a halt, his chest heaving for breath and his whole front half burning from the undergrowth whipping at him. Huracan had no clue where he was; he didn't particularly care, as long as it was far away from his former family. At least he was alone, now.

Maybe that was worse- now he had no-one to watch his back but himself, and if his former family had been any indication of the brutality and dysfunctionality of the cats around here, he'd make sure to stay well away from them.


Living life alone was easier than Huracan had thought it to be. He avoided every cat as best he could, which wasn't difficult; it seemed as though no-one ever knew to look up, so they never spotted him in the trees where he hid. He was a good hunter and a practiced fighter, as not every confrontation could be avoided.

Just because it was easy did not mean it was relaxing to any degree.

He grew in strength and stature quickly, learning to hunt during the night when more prey was out and it was cooler as opposed to the hot, muggy daytime. He blended better with the night, anyway, and it was easier to avoid cats when you slept in a tree all day. He liked to do things alone, but he began to realize he didn't like being lonely.

Supposing it had something to do with his parents, both biological and adoptive, he tried to keep his mind off them as much as he could, but was plagued with fear that he would someday have a run-in with Donum again. That fear still lent speed to his paws and strength to his blows- fear that he would be hit first, that he would die first.

Finally, he decided that the only way to rid himself of this fear was to face it.

He trained, practicing in real battles against the more bloodthirsty rogues that roamed the forest. He came away scarred more often than not, but he started to get better and better, coming up with his own moves and counters. He started winning the fights he picked. He learned a lot about healing, as well, and so anxious was he to finish what he'd started that he bore the stinging with a calm determination till the pain faded to the back of his mind.

Huracan became well-known in his part of the forest as the young leopard-like tom in whose path you should stay out of. Though he made sure never to fight weak or helpless cats, there were rumors that he'd slaughtered kits for tumbling into his way.

One day, there was talk of a new family entering the area. Huracan overheard some cats talking about it, and his suspicions were confirmed. It was Silva and Donum. It seems their kits had left them a few moons after he had. Good. He didn't really hold anything against his former siblings- just his parents.

Huracan sauntered into the clearing where Silva and Donum had made their dens. It was a small space in the trees, with dapples of sunlight waving over the ground through the leaves. Their den was under a bush, mossy nests already made. The two cats themselves were sharing tongues, curled up in their nest.

"Well, well, well," he meowed coldly. "It's been a while. Silva. Donum."

The pair leapt to their paws. "Huracan," Donum growled. "I told you to stay away from us!"

"So you did," Huracan smoothly replied. "But you, it seems, have come to me. This land is mine, and you are certainly not welcome here." There was a cold challenge in his glinting amber eyes.

Donum laughed. "Right," he retorted sarcastically, but there was a hint of fear in his eyes. Huracan was glad of that- he needed to see the fear in their eyes that he felt when they chased him out. "And let me guess," he drawled. "You're going to make us leave?"

Huracan narrowed his eyes. "No. In fact, you're welcome to stay for the rest of your lives," he growled, flexing his claws. He knew he could take them both, easily. He was nearly as big as Donum and more well-muscled from his fighting and hunting. They knew nothing of fighting, only of manipulation and control by fear.

Donum bristled and opened his jaws to reply. Huracan didn't let him have the chance.

The tom exploded into a burst of speed to rival a shooting star, his orange-tipped tail streaking out behind him. He hit Donum head-on, sending the brown tom sprawling to the ground. Then Huracan was on him, slashing and jabbing and snapping before finally slicing his opponent's throat.

Donum fell over stiffly, blood tricking in a swift stream down his neck and seeping into the grassy forest floor. Silva screeched with horror.

Huracan rounded on her, his face splattered with blood and teeth bared. Without so much as a noise, the tom cleared the clearing in a bound, tackling Silva to the ground. He sank his fangs into her throat as if she were a piece of prey, stopping only when she went limp and her eyes glazed over.

He let out a sigh, partly of relief, partly of regret. Relief that he could finally be alone, without anyone pestering him, but regret that he would never have any family or friends. How could he, when this was the kind of cat he simply was?

Huracan prospered, becoming a respected character wherever he went. Those who dared to cross his path never trod on it for long, for various reasons. He lived alone and was contented with that, but he never wanted to be lonely.