A/N: This shall be a good chapter. However, I am typing this before I write the actual story, so there's no promises.
Also, there will be two deaths.
Chapter Five
StarClan were watching down helplessly at the next four sacrifices, just like they did every new moon.
Ravenkit of ShadowClan. He was a fluffy black cat with a gray underbelly and stubby legs. Amber eyes. The tomkit was bold and sometimes disrespected his elders. Obviously, he had to go or else there might be disasters in his Clan.
Duckkit of RiverClan was a sleek, pretty kit. She was older than the other sacrifices —five moons, to be exact— but was chosen nonetheless. She had a solid yellow pelt and green eyes. The she-kit was very disapproving of those younger than her.
Shadekit —of course, you should know him well— was sacrifice of ThunderClan and kit of WindClan. He was a young smoky gray kit with forest-green eyes and long legs. The kit had a cunning mind, no doubt.
Mosskit of WindClan was a pale gray she-kit. She had bright, lively green eyes and was from the same litter as Shadekit. Small, tough, and rebellious, the little kit was loyal to the very end.
The Clans' ancestors analyze the kits every time they are chosen. Once they go to StarClan, they are given a job, based on their abilities. Reedkit was the one who took them to StarClan. Other tasks were storytelling, advising, telling riddles, and the like. When they came to StarClan, Ravenkit would be a guard. Duckkit would be a swimmer, Shadekit an idea maker, and Mosskit would comfort sacrifices.
Only things didn't go as we had planned. I, Silver, could not have foreseen the lengths that a kit would go for love.
Mosskit looked at the group of eight; warrior and kit. She pushed past numerous pelts and cats, only looking for one.
Shadekit.
Her brother and best friend was also wandering around, swinging his head from side to side. Not watching the path in front of them, the two litermates bumped noses and fell backwards with the impact.
"Mosskit!" Shadekit was the first to speak, scrambling up clumsily onto his paws. Mosskit stared at the figure in front of her. How could someone you knew your whole life change so much in eight days' time? The smoky kit was stronger somehow, and thinner. He had lost most of his fluffy fur, and Mosskit realized that she had as well. She purred and nuzzled Shadekit.
"You two know each other?" inquired a yellowish she-kit. She was well-groomed and had no kit-fur.
"Shouldn't you be an apprentice?" Shadekit asked boldly.
"I'm only five moons. Do you know each other?" repeated the she-kit.
Mosskit and Shadekit exchanged glances. Five moons was old to them.
"We do," Mosskit replied at last. "We're littermates."
The kit eyed them critically as they walked to their doom. "My name's Duckkit. Of RiverClan, if you must know."
"I'm Mosskit."
"Call me Shadekit."
They had just met mere seconds ago, but were alike in the way that they would never grow up. The last moments of their short lives would be spent under the claws of their Goddess Blossom.
"My name's Ravenkit!" yowled a black-and-gray kit as he bounced up to meet the group. "I'm from ShadowClan!"
"How old are you three?" Duckkit muttered. "A moon?"
"Three," Mosskit and Shadekit mewed at the same time. It was interrupted by Ravenkit, who meowed "four".
"Shut up back there and get your tail over here," growled an irritable red she-cat. Ravenkit flattened his ears and stalked towards the cat. Shadekit sighed and looked at a creamy cat who was probably from ThunderClan. Mosskit spotted Stripedpelt chatting to —and perhaps trying to impress— a pretty brown tabby. The ashen she-kit curled her lip, annoyed with her father's flirtatious attitude despite having a mate.
"Is your escort trying to attract mine?" Duckkit wondered, padding close to Mosskit so their pelts brushed. "It sure seems like it."
"That's my dad," Mosskit meowed, holding back a snarl.
"Who's the unlucky mother?"
"Honeyfall."
Shadekit was also watching their sire with disgust as Stripedpelt brushed his tail along the tabby's flank.
"Her name's Brownfeather, if you want to know," Duckkit whispered in Mosskit's ear. "She's one of the less pretty ones in RiverClan, so she might be a bit . . . open to your dad."
"I don't care," Mosskit stated bluntly. "Right, Shadekit?" She whacked her brother with a sheathed paw.
"Yeah, he's not much of a father," Shadekit agreed.
"I feel bad for you two."
Mosskit shrugged her shoulders. "We're used to it. This is the new world, isn't it?"
"I thought I told you to be quiet!" yowled the same reddish ShadowClan escort from before.
"No, she told us to shut up," Shadekit muttered cheekily under his brearh. Mosskit and Duckkit both stifled a giggle as the she-cat whipped around and glared at them with piercing yellow eyes.
Oh, the poor lighthearted kits. They were trying to calm themselves, to ease their anxiety with little jokes and comments. Fresh, unexperienced life that would soon be taken away for the voice's own selfish desires.
They walked along in silence like that for the rest of the journey. As the sun rose, their spirits fell and soon they paused only to watch a leaf fall carelessly off a tree or a stream flowing gently along. Mosskit watched a butterfly, her heart aching as she remembered the white one that had flown into Shadekit's eye that day.
The butterfly landed on Shadekit's nose. He was obviously trying not to sneeze or move. Suddenly, the creamy ThunderClan warrior that Shadekit had looked at before crushed the insect. He tore off its fragile wings and left it twitching until it moved no more. Mosskit noticed that the blue patterns on one side of the wings were like raindrops that were hidden by a brown, dead side.
Details like this often go unnoticed by the serious adults. Young kits, however, can see them and find a meaning in them. This particular butterfly showed Mosskit how the raindrops were there, but they were always covered by the dark brown unless you believed that the blue existed.
"We must continue at a faster pace. Our Goddess will be very displeased if we don't get there by sunhigh," Brownfeather meowed briskly. One by one, the other warriors agreed. Shadekit and Mosskit, being the youngest, tripped and stumbled a lot more than proud Duckkit and rebellious Ravenkit.
"Are you scared?" Shadekit's unexpected susurrus caught Mosskit by surprise. "About what'll happen next, I mean."
"What's there to be scared of?" Mosskit murmured. "A quick swipe to the neck and then you're done. Gone. And we'll see each other in StarClan again."
"Do you really think StarClan exists?"
"Of course!"
"Then why won't they help us?" Shadekit cried. "The only reason is that Blossom is too powerful, but who could have more power than StarClan? It's impossible!"
"Not necessarily. But now that I think of it, that kind of power scares me. What lengths will a cat go to obtain it?"
"Very long, seeing as we're walking to our deaths for Blossom to get it," Shadekit muttered bitterly.
Like I've mentioned before, kits in the new world are much more like true warriors than the adults will ever be.
"We're here!" The ThunderClan tom gave a triumphant yowl. "Mount Crimson."
Mosskit stared a the huge wall of stone before her, red streaks dancing across the mountain. Claws from cats long ago scarred the figure and left pebbles that were once a part of it beneath the cats' feet. Mount Crimson was huge.
Duckkit and Raven kit grabbed on to their escorts' tails. Brownfeather and the ShadowClan she-cat started climbing the mountain. They jumped and held onto a part a bit above where they had been before. Using these jumps, the two gradually got to the top.
The ThunderClan cat and Stripedpelt grabbed Shadekit and Mosskit by their scruffs, respectively. With the same jumps, the last four reached Goddess Blossom's lair.
"This is where we leave you," the red she-cat announced. "Behave yourselves." The warriors started to depart, but Mosskit gave out a cry.
"I'm not ready!" She spun around wildly and grabbed the tail closest to her; Stripedpelt. The tom growled and attempted to bat Mosskit off, but the kit clutched her father's tail even tighter in her unsheathed claws.
Brownfeather shrugged. "Might as well deal with it, Stripedpelt. She'll die soon enough." At these words, Stripedpelt gave a grudging nod and continued towards Blossom's lair. Mosskit clung to Stripedpelt's tail like her life depended on it.
Maybe it did.
Shadekit walked beside Mosskit, confusion clear in his eyes. "Why'd you do that?"
Mosskit murmured something incomprehensible through her father's fur.
I believe that even Mosskit herself didn't know exactly why she reached for Stripedpelt at the last moment. Perhaps it was a mere instinct, an action driven by fear, but she did it.
"My lady!" Stripedpelt entered the intimidating den, the four kits following close behind.
A she-cat padded into the little light there was. Her night-black fur gleamed and she emitted a strange white glow. Mosskit let go of the tail and shivered, staring at the two cold red eyes. Blossom was younger than she has expected.
"Why are you here?" Blossom demanded, speaking to Stripedpelt.
"I apologize, Goddess Blossom." Mosskit felt bile rise in her throat as her father groveled at the she-cat's feet, burying himself into the mud floor. "This kit, Mosskit of WindClan, grabbed on to my tail and refused to let go. I will leave now."
"Wait!" All the cats in the cave froze and stared at Mosskit. The pale gray kit closed her mouth, watching a worm crawl in the mud with a strange amount of interest.
"I am sorry for the kit's impudence," Stripedpelt meowed, bowing once again to Blossom.
"Stripedpelt!" Mosskit mewed, louder this time. "I . . . want to talk to you. Father."
Her sire did not pay any attention, but padded away with a last dip of his head to Blossom until an icy mew stopped Stripedpelt.
"Listen to your kit." Blossom's voice chilled Mosskit's spine. Stripedpelt paused and turned around to watch Mosskit. As if on cue, words flowed out of the little she-kit's mouth.
"Stripedpelt, I know you never really cared for Shadekit and me, or Honeyfall at that." Mosskit trembled. "And you weren't the best father there was. But still, without you, I wouldn't have lived my life, no matter how abruptly it will end today. I would never have met Shadekit, the best brother I could ever have. I would never have heard tales of fire and ice and things beyond your reasoning. I would never have found the rain or met a butterfly." The kit's green eyes clouded with memories. "And so I have to say thank you. Daddy . . . I love you."
What stood out to me about Mosskit the most was her ability to love those that had never cared about her. I always knew she had that characteristic, but this was going too far. Stripedpelt loathed his kits, and Mosskit thanked him for it. It was the same father-daughter relationship as with Blossom and Mouseclaw, and yet the daughter loved her father anyway for no apparent reason.
Mosskit concluded her little speech and looked up at their goddess Blossom, trying to read her thoughts from body language. She was stiff, her ears pricked and listening to every word. And was one of her eyes . . . flickering?
Stripedpelt also stared at Blossom. "Again I must apologize that Mosskit was not raised correctly—" He was cut off by a snarl from the black she-cat.
"She was raised perfectly well. If you think not, then she was raised 'wrongly' because her own father wasn't there for her!"
The sacrifices watched in horror as Goddess Blossom drove Stripedpelt up against the cave wall. Stripedpelt writhed and wriggled out of the goddess's loose grasp, his eyes fearful.
Blossom gave a fearsome yowl and launched herself at the dark tabby tom. He skidded clumsily to the side, making the black cat twist mid-leap and land on Stripedpelt. There was a sickening crack.
The black she-cat rose to her paws and looked disdainfully at the broke Stripedpelt. She unsheathed a single claw and traced the artery in the tabby's neck. Stripedpelt breathed in gasps, staring up at the goddess he had been so eager to bow down to mere heartbeats ago.
After a moment of teasing, Blossom sank her claw deep into the neck of the dark cat and licked the blood off her claw thoughtfully.
Stripedpelt lay in a pool of his own red blood. It seeped into the ground and Mosskit subconsciously realized she was standing on a dark stain not unlike that of her father's blood. He gave another ragged gasps and jerked once before laying still.
Mosskit did not miss the hateful glance that had been directed at her moments before Stripedpelt's death.
Like the butterfly as it ceased to twitch or the rain as it stopped falling, he was gone.
A/N: Yup, the butterfly was one of the deaths.
...scared you, didn't I? This was probably my first death scene in the history of my writing. And I am proud.
Please, give me a little constructive critism. Anyone. Don't say you "suck" at it or whatever. DO IT.