Hostile

Prologue

A lone feral cat crept through a forest so dense it was practically opaque; the tree's so caked in shadows they loomed over the tom like the blackest of whiskers. He weaved nimbly between the wild-growing bramble that coated the floor, the thorns that wanted so badly to claw his skin were only able to just graze his fur.

The only sounds breaking the atmosphere were the rusty croaks from various toads and frogs and the chirps of crickets. Above, the moon was only a sliver away from a full, solid state. Thin patches of clouds threatened to block its glow. The tom allowed himself a brief glance to the stars- glittering like chips of ice in the black sky.

Fog weighed down on the cat and light moisture clung to his pelt, but he paid no mind to the uncomfortable sensation as he stalked his targets scent-trail. The tom gave an entertained twitch in his whiskers, almost taken aback by how easy it was to track. It helps to hunt in fog, I suppose. He thought to himself.

He halted. Half a tree-length away was a black-and-white tom who crouched behind a small patch of brier, creeping forward. He leapt, quiet like a phantom, and landed on some target the first tom couldn't see. The bi-colored cat lifted his head, his tail raised high as a lanky frog dangled from his jaws. Nice catch. The first tom thought.

From his own hunting crouch, the first tom shifted the weight on his hind legs, finding the perfect placement for his pads before launching. Upon finding an ideal balance, he pressed off the ground, gliding through the air soundlessly. He stretched his white paws ahead of him and extended his claws, his target approaching quickly below him.

He landed on the bi-colored toms shoulders, pressing all of his weight into the impact.

The black-and-white tom did as he could to exhume a mighty yowl- but between his jaw full of frog and his muzzle suddenly being pressed into the damp earth it only came out as a muffled grunt. The attacker sank his claws into his prey, suddenly aware of the muscle he felt under his skin. Plunging his teeth into the targets scruff, the first tom thrashed his head erratically.

Leaping wildly, the bi-colored stranger was able to shake his attacker off. He spun around, posed to launch as his livid copper eyes scanned his opponent, "You've just made the worst mistake of your life, toad-meat!" He spat.

The attacker feinged an amused twitch in whiskers. Beneath his fury and rage there was an anxious set of teeth gnawing at his stomach. His target was larger than himself, and this would pose to be difficult. "Prove it, Fleapaw." He taunted.

The larger bi-colored tom lashed his tail and pounced, tackling the smaller one. They fumbled in the mud and the attacker hissed from the back of his throat when teeth like daggers shredded into the muscle in his shoulders.

Furiously, he used his white claws to slash at the bi-colored toms face, who pulled away when skin broke. His heart pounded against his chest so hard he was almost scared the bone would break, and an abnormally warm liquid soaked the fur around where he had been bit.

The cats parted again, this time walking in circles with their backs arched and fur on end. Blood plastered each of their bodies, but who belonged to which patch of glimmering scarlet was unclear.

A sudden wave of adrenaline overcame the attacker and he launched, throwing fitful swipes at the larger toms eyes. Pulling away, the bi-colored tom wailed and threw his head from side to side. Small beads of blood flew from his face and landed on the surrounding vegetation, leaving red dewdrops that glittered under the moons eerie light.

Using the opportunity, the attacker lunged forward one last time, hurling the larger tom into the mud. He kept him pinned, hissing into his face. The black-and-white tom bled from his clamped eyes. His lips were barred: whether from a grimace or a growl, the attacker wasn't sure.

"I hope for your sake StarClan can forgive your kind." The attacker murmured into the bi-colored toms flattened ears.

The larger tom briefly stuttered at the threat, then blindly he tried to escape the first toms grasp. "Let me go!" He demanded.

"No." The smaller tom said sternly. Then reminiscent to killing a squirrel, he dropped his head and took the bi-colored felines throat between his teeth. He clasped his jaws shut, the larger toms windpipe crunching at the force. Iron blood welled into the attackers mouth and he almost choked on the sudden flood.

"Ack! Let me go!" The bi-colored tom managed to gurgle. At his plea, however, the attacker only thrashed his head militantly.

The smaller tom leapt off the other. His side's heaved and he breathed through his teeth as he watched the life drain from the collapsed bi-colored body. He gasped desperately for air as blood spilled from his mouth, throat, and nose like a river.

His large body convulsed. He sputtered, but the words were so literally drowned out the smaller tom couldn't decifer what he tried to communicate. He hacked, and thick blood splashed the distance of a mouse's tail around the dying cats muzzle.

There was a tuft sound when the larger tom dropped his head back into the mud. His jittering tense body trembled violently once more, then it stopped moving altogether.

The smaller tom's heart continued to pound and he stood hardly aware of the liquid dribbling down his shoulder and leg. The body in front of him flaccid in the mud; patches of blood caking parts of his fur together, captured his undivided attention. The runny liquid continued to trickle from the dead cats shredded eyes, nose, and tattered throat. His body almost seemed to glow as he laid dead in a splash of moonlight, the fog almost rolling away from him.

Suddenly aware of the blistering silence, the smaller tom cast a glance into the sky. The moon had traveled through a quarter of the everlasting darkness and a fresh wave of urgency pulsed through the toms veins. I've been here too long. He couldn't afford to run into a patrol in this state. He would be slaughtered.

The nocturnal creatures had fallen silent in the commotion, and it only made the tom uneasy. He lashed his tail before trotting back the way he came, weaving between brambles and around the towering trees, wading through small streams and leaping over collapsed branches. He kept his pace brisk, refusing to wince as every step sent a stab of putrid pain through his muscles.

After ducking under steel gorse, the tom retreated into uncharted territory.