Warrior Cats: BloodClan Hunger Games

Prologue

A warm breeze billowed through the trees as Crowfeather lead a hunting patrol back to BloodClan's camp. The slender guard held two mice and a plump thrush in his jaws. The four of them had gone into ThunderClan's old territory to catch themselves a meal. There was no demand on fetching prey for the entire Clan, every cat was for himself... Though, as a guard with some authority, Crowfeather liked to ask if any cat wanted to hunt for a friend or kin with him. Typically, he would be one of the only cats thinking of others rather than just himself. 

Most of the cats now were selfish savages. No cat seemed to have their head on straight anymore. Whether it was because they were raised like this from birth or some sort of mental illness from head trauma or a psychological break, Scourges wrath had turned the Clan-cats to bloodthirsty manics.

Scourge's death was only truly mourned by his close companions, where the rest of the cats only pretended. The small evil cat had fallen ill the past leaf-bare and even with four medicine cats working together, they weren't able to save him. His close friends had been so sure that they had purposely killed their leader, as the rumours had whispered around quite quickly. Though it was possible they had tried everything because they were always short on supply due to the amount of brawls that broke out daily. Not to mention how messy the battle training gets. 

Soon after Firestar's death and BloodClan moving into ShadowClan's marshy home permanently, Twolegs had destroyed WindClan's vacant territory. They dug a deep pit in the heart of their camp and never touched it again. The thought of Crowfeather's home being ruined for such disgusting acts to begin still stabbed his chest. If it wasn't for their mindless tasks, maybe Scourge would never of created this awful game...

Scourge had ordered his slaves to dig out an entrance tunnel and at the far side of the pit, another: the tunnel to freedom. This was only a rumour; even Crowfeather was unsure if the winner would be truly granted his freedom. 

With such a hold that the small black cat with one white paw had on these feeble cats, not many cats dared to try to run away. Those that did were always found, either by the guards or the many lurking snitches. Crowfeather's shoulders bristled at the memory of him and Lostface finding Sorreltail. She only made it past the Arena on a sprained paw and battered face after she was jumped by a couple she-cats. The tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat had started wailing when she noticed the two guards were close on her tail. Sadly it wasn't hard at all to find her, the blood dripping from her face had created a trail. Crowfeather never let his emotions show, no matter how much pity he had felt for Sorreltail in that moment.

After moons of rain, wind, and sun, the pit had grown a field of grass and small trees began to grow, too. Even a thin waterfall had slithered its way over the top of the pit and down a wall of rocks that jutted out along the edge, and created a pool among the growing vegetation. Poison would sit on a lump of long logs the Twolegs had left to watch the bloody game take place from above. 

Tess, Sootfur, and Mousefur followed close behind the slick black guard. None of the cats made a sound as they padded forward, each of their mouths grasping at at least one morsel. Gazing through the treetops of thick oak and birch trees, Crowfeather made note of the grey clouds slowly coming toward the cats. 

Behind Crowfeather he could hear the old ThunderClan cat, Mousefur, struggling to keep up. He glanced over his shoulder and slowed his pace to watch her drop her lousy sparrow and take a moment to catch her breath. 

Sootfur snorted, continuing past Crowfeather with Tess a tail-length behind him, "Old hag won't be any use for BloodClan soon enough," he flicked his tail, "Not that she ever really was any use." Tess purred with the smokey-gray tom.

"You don't need to wait for me," the small dusky brown she-cat grumbled before shaking out her pelt, "I am capable on my own." 

Even through her prickly demeanour, Crowfeather could sense her anxiety; he knew that she knew her elder days had been upon her for moons. There were no elders in BloodClan. Back when there were four Clans, elders were taken care of and well respected... Those days were long gone.