Alright, so this is the second part of that last chappie, just split up. This is where it starts to get more intense…. :O Oh wow….I just thought of a SUPER intense thing I could put in here. No…but its sooo evil… how evil should she be? Well…Tigerstar equal. So I suppose it works :\
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Ferns whipped past Icefang's vision, brambles snagged in her pelt, but she kept running, her paws thudding rhythmically against the dry ground. Her heart seemed to drum in tune with her steps – THUD, thud, THUD, thud, THUD, thud. It blocked out all sounds, confining her screams to the tiny, constricted space within her mind.
She hated herself. She hated herself because she wanted it. That frozen part of her wanted to live Stonepelt's dream, wanted to be the every day nursery queen with her litter of squealing kits, sitting in the sun while her mate brought back fresh kill and taught his son how to fight. It felt good, like the sun on her back. It felt right.
"No!" she hissed, choking back a whimper. Her paw twisted under her and she stumbled, but she righted herself and drove onward, trying to let her heartbeat pound out the traitorous thoughts. Suddenly her own mind was the traitor, the enemy, the faithless rival.
Icefang tripped to a stop under the cover of a low hanging birch tree. The leaves tickled her spine, and Icefang whirled about to slash them away in a burst of fury. It wasn't fair! Nothing was fair! Life wasn't fair! The tattered leaves fluttered to the ground before Icefang's trembling paws.
With a yowl of frustration Icefang crouched close to the ground, clenching her shoulders in an effort to dispel the bombardment of emotion that had engulfed her with Stonepelt's innocent words.
The image was so clear, so beautiful. She could be that cat. She should be that cat. Stonepelt was good; he would love her, as a warrior should love. Robinpaw would be her good friend, and Sparrowpaw. Brightpool and Whitefoot would be her friends too, if she let them.
"No!" growled Icefang again, more forcefully this time. She knew what she had to become. The best, the very very best…they very, very, very best…Icefang chanted to herself, squeezing her eyes tightly shut against the happy picture: three beautiful kits, milky blue eyes, soft fur, Stonepelt's loving mew, Robinpaw's cheerful laugh, the sun and the moon and the stars all smiling…
"NO!" Icefang was practically screaming now. It wouldn't end up that way. She knew it wouldn't. Stonepelt would see how weak she was, how cowardly and cold. Her kits would have kittypet blood, they would never be accepted always hated, always shunned. Robinpaw would become a warrior and leave Icefang behind, her father was deputy; she was good and pure. Brightpool and Whitefoot would never see past her birth. Icefang would always be a kittypet. Not unless I do something about it, she hissed to herself, more desperately than confidently.
But it would be so easy – just to forget about everything, to lie down in the sun and watch as life whirled in circles around her, calmly and quietly. No blood spilled, no claws unsheathed. Hunting in the forest with her daughter, her beautiful daughter…
They would kill her, Icefang wailed inwardly. But they wouldn't they wouldn't they would love her she would be Cinderstar's granddaughter they wouldn't kill her they couldn't Stonepelt's daughter Cinderstar's granddaughter kittypet kittypet kittypet…
The thoughts jumbled together in rapid succession, overwhelming Icefang. She flopped onto her side and pressed her cheek to the cool, dry ground. A piece of green leaf danced delicately in front of her nose, lifted by a warm dawn breeze. There has to be an answer.
Icefang lay there for what seemed like hours upon hours, but when she finally lifted her head and looked around, it was barely dawn. For all she knew, Cinderstar and the patrol hadn't even reached camp yet. She could still catch up to them and pretend nothing was wrong. Apologize to Stonepelt and accept his offer. Comfort Robinpaw and help her become a warrior…leave Tanglethorn alive.
This last thought finally struck home. Icefang had barely realized the premature plans hatching in the back of her mind, plans that formed in that half-awareness between sleep and the waking world. Of course, Tanglethorn would have to die if she were to become deputy. Maybe Oakshadow, maybe Whitefoot. Any number of cats' lives would be forfeit for her ambitions. But as Icefang pictured the brown tabby's arrogant sneer, she felt nothing. She knew she was better than Tanglethorn. She was better than Oakshadow, and Whitefoot. She knew she was better.
Icefang rose to her paws and stretched, raking a few leaf shreds from her pelt. Letting her paws carry her in whatever direction they pleased, Icefang attempted to clear her mind and step back from the torrent of disturbing images and futures that had been released by Stonepelt's remarks.
It was only a few moments later that a familiar scent caught her attention and made her look up from her paws. It brought back long-buried memories that awakened the anger smoldering in Icepaw's fractured heart.
Before her loomed a rotting wooden fence, and over its edge she could see the branches of a willow tree, where fledgling sparrows had once stretched their wings while she watched from the safety of a Twoleg nest behind. Without thinking, the white warrior scaled the fence and looked over the edge.
It was not her nest, where she had been confined for the first few years of her life, but the could recognize the window where she had once sat a few houses over. Curiosity winning her over, Icefang took a step towards her old home.
"Who are you?" came a cheerful meow. Surprised, Icefang whirled around, unsheathing her claws.
A ginger and white patched she-cat was crouched on the fence facing her, her head tilted and her ears flicked forwards. "I haven't seen you around before. Are you new?" She leaned forward and sniffed the air, her nose suddenly wrinkling. "You smell weird."
Icefang's lips twisted in a sneer. This ignorant kittypet seemed to think she was one of them. This thought ripped once again at the already bleeding remnants of Icefang's chest, and she winced suddenly, her paws clenching.
"My name," she hissed at the kittypet, "is Icefang. I'm a warrior of ThunderClan!" She yowled this more to prove it to herself then to the fat she-cat, but somehow the words sounded hollow as she tasted the scent of plastic and dog in the air, and remembered the same scents once clinging to her own fur.
"Well, okay. But you look familiar. I swear…" the she-cat suddenly froze, and her eyes grew round and wide.
"What?" Icefang snapped, stepping back with a frown.
"Beatrix?" breathed the ginger and white kittypet. Her tail lashed as she uttered the name.
Icefang released a furious caterwaul and stalked forward, her eyes blazing. "Don't you dare call me that. My name is Icefang. I said I'm a warrior of ThunderClan!" She was barely managing to resist the urge to claw the kittypet's fur off.
The ginger patched she-cat leaned back, her expression frightened. "No I…" a sudden resolve formed in her gaze, and her eyes narrowed. "I know my own daughter when I see her. That is Beatrix. What happened to you, dearie?"
This was too much. The word 'daughter' sent a lance of unbearable pain through Icefang's heart. It CAN'T be true. It's NOT true. I won't LET it be true.
"NOOOO-row-row-roww!" Icefang screeched. Her protest morphed into an enraged snarl as she lunged forward.
There was no premeditation. No thought process at all that led to Icefang's actions. She was as near blind and deaf as a mole. Her claws ripped through fur and flesh, while her ears were deaf to the shrieks of pain.
Finally, a different yowl jerked Icefang out of her reverie. It was a familiar yowl, but it sent a well-learned spark of fear dancing through the cavity of her chest. Icefang looked up and saw as two Twolegs came charging out of the nest, a broom and a crowbar in their hands. Still unfeeling, the she-cat waited, watching, as they approached. A haze of red blurred her vision and blood pumped thickly through her veins, shot through with adrenaline.
The last thing she saw before the metal bar connected with her rib cage was the mangled body of the ginger and white she-cat, and her mother's desolate stare.
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Icefang awoke to birdsong and bright sunlight. Immediately alert, she leaped to her feet, then bit back a growl as her side protested. She took a step, sending a throbbing wave of pain from her shoulder to her flank. Hissing, Icefang took another step, fighting through the pain. As with before, there was no thought. Her paws carried her where she needed to go.
"Icefang? Great StarClan, Icefang, oh Icefang where have you been? What happened?" came a desperate mewl. The sound of it sent shivers down Icepaw's spine.
Stonepelt's form loomed into her narrowed field of vision.
"Shortwhisker, Shortwhisker, oh StarClan come quickly, Icefang, what did this you? Icefang…" he whimpered, supporting her as the white warrior limped through the bramble tunnel and into camp. With the familiar scents of camp and her Clanmates in her nostrils, Icefang's thoughts began to clear. The red haze was gone, replaced by the comforting emotionless frost.
"Icefang! Was it the Thunderpath?" she heard Shortwhisker's voice and turned to face the old gray tom. Clenching her teeth, the white she-cat pushed away from Stonepelt and strode a few steps towards the medicine cat.
"It wasn't the Thunderpath," she mewed.
"There's blood on your claws!" Shortwhisker exclaimed, his gaze traveling down to her paws. Luckily, no clusters of ginger or white hairs were stuck between the talons.
"I was…hunting," she lied smoothly, adopting the familiar, well-practiced mask of stone.
"But your ribs," the medicine cat pointed out, his tail flicking to the scrapes and bruises covering Icefang's left side.
"I fell from a tree," she confessed.
A sigh blew from Stonepelt's mouth behind her, ruffling her ears. Icefang didn't even twitch.
"That must have been a fairly bad fall," remarked Shortwhisker doubtfully.
Icefang gave a bark of derisive laughter. "I'd say so. And it hurts like a badger's bite," she grumbled, rolling her shoulder and wincing.
"Well, ribs heal alright on their own – there's nothing I can do," Shortwhisker admitted, stepping back and shrugging. "Get yourself cleaned up and then come over to my den for some herbs. You might want some sleep after your...accident." He smiled gently, and then padded away.
"Why didn't you come find me so we could hunt together, you mouse brain?" mewed Stonepelt in her ear as the medicine cat trotted away. Icefang smiled weakly and looked up into the tabby warrior's eyes.
"Do I ever wait for you?" she mewed, her whisker twitching with amusement.
Stonepelt's eyes widened a little bit. "No," he mewed, laughing, almost nervously. "I suppose you don't."
"I'm sorry – I wish you'd been there to catch me," Icefang mewled, chuckling. She pressed her head against Stonepelt's chest and purred. His answering purr made her ribs throb, but she remained where she was.
"Come on," Stonepelt mewed gently. "Shortwhisker said you should get some sleep."
The pair padded back to the den, Icefang leaning on Stonepelt's shoulder. The white she-cat settled into her den and began to lick herself clean as Stonepelt went to get some fresh kill.
As soon as he was out of sight, Icefang relaxed and stretched her foreleg.
"Hope you feel better soon, Icefang." The smooth drawl made Icefang's paws twitched. Tanglethorn had padded past the den, nodding toward her, his eyes lazily half-lidded.
"Thanks for your concern," she replied. Though her response was cordial enough, there was no mistaking the layer of ice beneath it. "Tanglethorn," she hissed, and her blue eyes narrowed.
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