Several Suns Previously

The tom-cat took a deep breath, to steady his racing heart.
It was a few hours away from dawn, and the stars were beginning to fade, though there was no sign of the sun. He liked this time best of all, when he did not feel either the eyes of his ancestors or those of his Clanmates upon him. Watching him. Silently judging all that he was, for things he couldn't help.
Anger pulsed through his body like a lightning bolt. How dare they question his loyalty? He had hunted throughout the frozen leaf-bare, chasing prey that seemed two steps ahead of every other cat. When the green of newleaf kissed the trees, and everyone had relaxed, he had not. He had remained vigilant, guarding his Clan throughout their darkest days, where every dawn seemed to claim a new life.
In return, they gave him nothing-nothing but suspicion and mistrust. Even the kits whispered when he walked by, after drinking their mothers' tales of his past.
I guess it's true then. There is nothing innocent in this world.

The tom inhaled again, clearing and focussing his mind. There was nothing to be gained from anger and bitterness. He'd show them all eventually, and he'd teach them in a way that they would never forget. His methods might have to be brutal, but sometimes blood was the only thing that got through the thick skulls of the righteous Clan cats.
He flexed his muscular shoulders, hunched his head, and squeezed into the burrow.
Before him lay a strange sight, yet it was exactly as he expected. Thin slivers of stone, ten in all, lay on the earthen floor of the hole. In ages previously, it might have been the home of a badger or fox, but generations of snow, wind and water had bleached the scent from the root-threaded walls.
The tom smiled. Everything was just how he had left it. Sometimes he worried that a predator might see the advantages of the burrow and make it their den, but it had never happened. Something about the den frightened them.
Or, perhaps, it was not so much the den that struck fear into their hearts but rather where the den led.
The cat lay down-it was easier that way-and extended his claws. They were normal claws, perfectly adequate for everyday situations. But the tom did not want to be a normal, everyday cat. He wanted to be a legend. And these thin slivers of stone were going to help him achieve it.
He arranged the stones with delicate paws, turning the broader, flat base towards him. The stones were hollowed out on the inside. It had taken him seasons to find ten such stones in the mud of the stream and by the lakeshore. Then, using his teeth, talons, and other rocks, he had honed the edges until they were so sharp that if a cat had stepped on them it would have pierced their paws to the bone.
Gripping the first stone in his teeth, wincing as he felt the discomfort of his teeth grating against the cold surface, he neatly hooked the sliver onto one of his claws. He repeated this several times, until he was wearing a pair of second talons-the outside pair made of stone, and so sharp it felt as though you could puncture your eye by simply looking at the edge.
The tom-cat stood up, and retracted his claws. The stones were thin enough to slide partially into the fur and skin following the original clawset, but the tips still stuck out.
It didn't really matter. It wouldn't do any harm.

Now that his new talons were fixed, the cat flicked his tail in anticipation and stepped deeper into the burrow. The first few fox-lengths were confined and rather airless; the cat felt his whiskers twitch uncomfortably as they were bent against the narrow walls. He hated this part of the journey most of all, but it didn't last long. Within a few minutes he was rolling his shoulders in quite a large space, and the air was slightly fresher.
The tunnel that the tom-cat was travelling down was a secret known only to him and one other animal. The place where it eventually led to was not.
But first, the other animal. The cat picked up its repugnant scent easily. If there had been even a trace of light in the darkness he would also have seen the white patches on its cheeks and the glinting of its razor-sharp teeth. But he felt no fear.
The badger swung its head towards him as he padded closer, and he could feel its hostility like thorns. A growl rumbled through the shadows; a warning if ever he'd heard one. The badger was only refraining from attacking because it had met him here many times, and had grown accustomed to his presence.
It was a mistake, and one that he'd planned to take full advantage of. Carefully, keeping his distance from the brute, he shuffled to the side of the wall, feeling with his whiskers for an open space in the side of the tunnel. That was what he had always done whenever he'd met the badger. There were many such tunnels in these lands. The tom always found it amusing that for all their high-and-mighty ways, the vast majority of Clan cats had no idea of the underworld beneath their feet. He had explored most of it and knew that the tunnels formed a vast network that had openings in every Clan territory. The one he was brushing up against would lead him to a large cave with a small opening in the roof. It was said that spirits of lost cats rested there. The tom had never seen or smelt any such thing, but you couldn't be too careful. He would go another way.
The badger, satisfied that he was moving on, began to take a few ponderous steps down the original tunnel.
Three. Two…One…
….NOW!

The cat leaped forwards, his talons of stone outstretched, as he lunged for the beast. It let out a roar of confusion and anger, but the confined tunnel prevented it from whirling around and snapping his spine. With a battle yowl he raked his reinforced claws down the side of its head.
If they had been normal cat claws, made out of the same material as his fur, it would have done practically nothing. But his new extensions tore open the badger's flesh and filled the stale tunnel with the scent of blood.
The badger screamed again and swiped at him, but he was too fast. Again and again his claws flashed, and each time they ripped through fur and muscle. It was gloriously easy, feeling the supreme satisfaction of stone grating against bone, and the scent of the badger-a cat's worst nightmare-ripe with fear and pain. He slashed its legs, side, chest-and was never touched. He was too fast, as though his veins ran with wind instead of blood. It was working, it was working-much better than he'd ever dreamed of.
Without warning the badger swung around, baring its back to him and taking off. Caught by surprise, he stumbled forwards, falling embarrassingly on his face. "By the light of StarClan!" he spat in frustration, before swiftly running after the badger down the tunnel.
He shouldn't have been surprised. Just because his attack had been much more effective than he'd dared hoped didn't mean that the rest of his plan was unnecessary. He caught up to the badger quickly, but now the tunnel had grown narrow again, and it was working against him. He didn't have the room to attack the beast and keep out of its range at the same time. Once again, he'd thought of this. In fact, he'd planned for every possibility. He didn't bother trying to fight-he just kept on its heels, making mock swipes with his paws to keep it on the retreat.

All of a sudden they burst into a silent night, where the sky was just beginning to turn a bleak grey to herald the arrival of the sun. He smelt the clogging scent of ThunderClan burning his nose, and trees furry with soft growth nodded in a slight breeze. The badger continued to stamp through the forest, and the tom-cat slowed his pace. No need to run anymore. Just to wait until it tired out, then finish the poor creature off.
He was even considering the possibility of returning home when a yowl split the cool air. The tom-cat's eyes widened. What was another cat doing here? Without stopping to think he leaped after the badger and nearly fell over it, crouched beside a tree-log, tossing its head and snarling at a tortoiseshell she-cat.
When she caught sight of him her mouth fell open. "You? What are you doing here? Aren't you-"
A roar from the badger made her jerk her head away from him, and she fell into a fighting crouch. "Quick, get beside me," she hissed. "It's hurt. Shouldn't be too difficult."
Sorreltail. That's her name.
"I don't think so," he told her calmly. "I'd rather watch and see what happens."
Her eyes flashed. "Do you have crowfood for brains? I don't care that you crossed our border right now!"
The tom stepped back. "All yours," he murmured. "Go on. I don't want your glory."
She stared at him, the truth hitting her. "You little piece of-"
Grr-ROAR! The badger seized its desperate chance, lunging forwards and catching her in the side with its powerful claws. For all its injuries, it was still a mighty opponent, and she screeched in pain. Turning around, she leaped at her foe, her fur bristling.

The tom took a few more steps back. For all his apparent calm demeanour his heart was pounding like the hooves of horses, still fuelled by adrenaline and the fact that there wasn't supposed to be a cat. He had not planned for it, and now she was there-
He had no real desire to watch a she-cat be torn to pieces, but had to admit, she was fighting well, holding her ground and even forcing the badger to give way. Finally, after both of them were drenched in their own blood and staggering from heavy wounds, the badger stumbled away from them. It would later clamber back through the tunnels and into RiverClan territory, where it would finally meet its doom under a shroud of warriors.
Sorreltail nearly collapsed, her legs barely able to hold her upright. She coughed, red spittle flying from her jaws. "You." she wheezed. "I'm going to kill you."
A warrior to the last.
"Sorry," was all he said.

It was a quick and easy kill. She had nothing left to fight him with, and barely resisted when he pushed her to the ground and bit through her spine. She struggled weakly as froth flowed from her muzzle, but after a few heartbeats she lay still, and the dawn was silent once more.
He took her body-small and limp in the throes of death-and began to drag her along the forest floor, tugging her until they both came to rest at the shores of the lake. He had intended to throw her in, but realized that it would not really have a purpose.
He looked behind him. Her scent, and the smell of blood, would hide his own, but if he were to try and find the tunnels he would leave a clear and definite trail. He looked at the lake surface, paused, then plunged in, striking out with his strong paws and heading back to his own territory.
The rippling lake water washing the blood from his mighty stone claws.

Some Suns Later, Present Day

Jayfeather's heart was throbbing painfully and his breath was coming quickly as he scrambled down the entrance into the stone hollow. "Firestar! Firestar!"
"He's in his den," Sandstorm informed him from by the fresh-kill pile. On the outside, she appeared to be quite calm, but a cat who knew her well would notice the way her pelt hung over her bones, and the darkness in her leaf-green eyes.
Jayfeather was in no mood to be sympathetic. He leaped up the Highledge like a sighted cat and pushed his way into Firestar's den.
"J-Jayfeather." Now the ThunderClan medicine cat did let himself feel a stab of pity. The ginger tom had transformed in the space of a few suns. Once a lean and sleek warrior, he now seemed older than the Sky Oak. His orange fur lay matted and unkempt, like he could not be bothered to wash himself. But worst of all was the swelling mass around his foot, distorting his paw until it was almost impossible to even see his pads. A rank smell of decay and disease wafted through the air, and Jayfeather had to dig his claws into the floor of the den to prevent himself from fleeing.
Few cats entered Firestar's den anymore. But he never left it. Walking was very difficult for him now, as his limbs could shudder and give way at any moment. Resting his weight on his diseased paw was agonizing. But worst of all was his voice; halting and stuttering at random periods. Jayfeather dreaded the next Gathering, and he was certain the rest of the Clan did too.

"W-w-what do y-you want, J-Jayfeather?" repeated Firestar, and Jayfeather braced himself. Firestar was growing increasingly erratic. Whether it was due to frustration as his body failed, or another dark symptom of the mass on his paw, Jayfeather didn't know, but it was wise to be careful.
"Firestar," he began uncertainly. "I went to the place where Sorreltail's body was found, and I decided to follow her trail."
The ThunderClan leader looked at him. "A-and?"
"It lead into a clearing, quite far away from where we found, and I also picked up the scent of badger."
"S-so? We kn-knew that alre-already."
"Yes, but I wondered how the badger got into our territory without the patrols picking it up. So I followed the badger's scent tracks, and it led to a burrow that became a tunnel."
At last Firestar looked interested. "A t-tunnel?"
"Yes. And there was another scent in the tunnel, too. The scent of a cat. I think he's the one who killed Sorreltail."
Firestar stared at him intently. "Who i-is it, J-Jayfeather?"
Jayfeather hesitated once more, then leaned forwards to whisper the answer into Firestar's ear.
And as he heard, the ginger tom's green eyes darkened with rage to match Jayfeather's own.