A fierce wind whipped Skyclan's birch trees, the cacophonous rattle of branches and leaves nearly deafening. A violent green-leaf storm was approaching on the horizon, its coming wrath charging the air. It would provide ideal cover for the invaders who prowled below. Sleek bodied and well-fed, Thunderclan and Shadowclan marched side-by-side, passing Skyclan's border. At the lead were Hawkstar and Juncostar. Behind them followed their clans, some members gleeful for battle while others remained apprehensive. The clans planned to ambush Skyclan and punish them for their perceived codebreaking, just as they had done to Riverclan before. It was bound to end in catastrophe, a bloodbath.
Or, at least that was the plan of the possessed leaders, 'Hawkstar' and 'Juncostar'.
Skyclan, Riverclan, and Riverclan would be prepared for their ambush. With warriors prepared for battle, they would fight to free Hawkstar and Juncostar from the imposters' clutches.
Briarstep
Thunderclan Deputy
"Hawkstar, Juncostar," Briarstep's pace quickened as they approached the Skyclan border. His whiskers twitched with tension, his anxiety reaching its peak as the battle drew nearer. "I believe a fierce storm is coming. It's not too late to ... turn back." He anticipated disdainful reactions to his suggestion, yet he still wilted under Hawkstar's hateful gaze. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, slacking his pace and falling behind. "I'll just be here, waiting for..." his words trailed off, heart racing.
'What we're doing is wrong, but I don't know how to stop them,' he thought. The last moon had been filled with such disregard for his advice. He had begun to wonder if the accusations against Hawkstar were true; The Thunderclan leader had somehow been replaced.
Briarstep's claws dug into the soil, easing his anxiety. The clans paused in silence, some scouts pushing ahead to identify the path forward. He felt sick, knowing his clan was about to repeat the Riverclan slaughter. The previous battle had disgusted Briarstep, lacking any semblance of honor. "Now is the time to act," he mewed quietly. "For Skyclan, for Riverclan, and for Oceanstorm."
"Thunderclan, Shadowclan!" he yowled, his frail voice shattering the silence, barely louder than the wind above. "Remember the devastation we caused in Riverclan when we attacked their 'codebreakers' in a dishonorable ambush! Here we stand again, on the brink of battle, ready to commit a similar crime! There is no honor here, in this senseless and unprovoked violence. If you wish to turn back, now is-"
He yelped in pain, his words cut short, as he felt Hawkstar's teeth and claws crash into his side. He had expected to be stopped, but he hadn't anticipated Hawkstar to violently assault him as if he were an enemy. He struggled to pry himself free, feeling blood flow from a deep gash on his shoulder. "The Hawkstar I know would n-never do this. We have to stop this or we'll tear ourselves apart!" he cried, pleading for any trace of compassion and reason residing within his once beloved leader. Adrenaline pulsed throughout his body, elated over having finally spoken out. The guilt of inaction had been gnawing at his belly, making him sick for moons. Perhaps Hawkstar's open act of violence would bring some of his clanmates to their senses. He defiantly braced himself, preparing for further punishment. "I will not march with Thunderclan this day! Hazelface and the others were right!"
Sleekfeather
Warrior of Riverclan
As Riverclan entered the battlefield, the clearing was filled with the resounding clash of paws against the soaked earth, yowls reverberating through the misty, windswept clearing. Among them was Sleekfeather, a tall warrior with sleek, ebony fur that blended seamlessly with the misty surroundings. The light rain soaked his pelt, making every movement more challenging, and the thick fog obscured his vision, adding an eerie atmosphere to the chaos. He treaded cautiously through the mist, his senses heightened, and his heart pounding with adrenaline before a flash of movement caught his attention.
Peering intently into the dense fog, he squinted through the misty veil to discern the figure. It was Mercuryrose, the deputy of Shadowclan, engaging in battle with Juncostar. Even though she was known for her strength and agility, a flicker of concern flashed across his features. Their objective was to liberate Juncostar from his possession, and the conundrum lay in the fact that any harm inflicted upon the spirit would inadvertently harm its host, leaving them grappling with a difficult situation.
He let out a resigned sigh, his usual indifference towards others momentarily overridden by a rare display of concern. Though their paths had rarely crossed before, he knew that Mercuryrose was Auroraskies sister, and in knowing that, his agile form sliced through the stormy winds, driven not by personal connection, but by the profound adoration he held for Auroraskies to aid her kin. With a burst of speed, Sleekfeather lunged forward, skillfully maneuvering around his adversaries, his eyes never leaving the deputy as he made his way over to her. He knew that he needed to create a diversion, a momentary distraction that would shift Juncostar's attention.
For a heartbeat he held his breath, carefully considering his options before finally closing the distance between he and Juncostar. Then, in a mocking tone, he began to tease the possessed leader, “Here, kitty kitty!” he tauntingly beckoned, a glint of mischief in his eyes. Through the veil of rain and fog, his calculating gaze swept over to Mercuryrose, silently urging her play along. Sleekfeather danced around the Shadowclan leader, his lithe body twisting and turning, evading any potential strikes with grace. The rain-slicked ground beneath his paws became his ally, allowing him to swiftly change direction and maintain his advantage. By diverting Juncostar's focus towards him, he was not only protecting Mercuryrose, but also giving her the opportunity to weaken the spirit’s hold on Juncostar without causing fatal harm to the leader; allowing her to focus on her opponent without fear of immediate reprisal.
With a cocky smirk, he opened his mouth to further antagonize him, “Usually when cats die, they stay dead. But you, my annoying friend, seem to have a talent for defying the natural order and being the ultimate thorn in everyone’s side,” then, with feigned sympathy, he asked “What’s the matter? Scheming like a sore loser in the dark forest not good enough for you?” his expression softened as he innocently titled his head, his tone dripping with false concern. Shaking his head, he tutted in disapproval. “Tsk, tsk.”
Mercuryrose
Shadowclan Deputy
The black and rose-gold deputy was hiding within the shadows, looking at the direction of the Thunderclan patrol.. They were sitting ducks, it was almost predictable. One of her nephews, Thornheart had gone to the refugee camp this morning after faint scents of Thunderclan nearby to alert the Shadowclan warriors while Tumblewave went to Firestar. Watching Wisteriastar crashing into Hawkstar, the Shadowclan deputy was lurking silently in the shadows before jumping gracefully into a tall rock and observed the battleground for a moment before her dark green eyes were narrowed slightly at the sight of Juncostar, clenching her jaw for a moment at her former best friend. Taking a deep breath, the large female Maine Coon suddenly leaped off the rock and slammed herself into the Shadowclan leader, pushing her entire weight into the smaller tom.”Come on.” Mercuryrose said through gritted teeth, her large paw slamming Juncostar’s head into the ground. The black and rose-gold Molly needed the spirit inside her former best friend and leader out, her clan depended on it.
"Hey Ratface!" Yowled a voice over the rumbling of screeches and thunder alike, commanding the attention of the clashing felines. From ahead, on the upper side of the foresty ridge stood the silhouette of a cat with her chin high and her orange eyes brightly clashing against the dim light. She looked down upon the group of ThunderClan and ShadowClan cats with that familiar sense of superiority that followed her. A fierce breeze parted the clouds and the glint of the moon revealed the stature of the former RiverClan leader, Wisteriastar.
"Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" She sneered, bearing her fangs down at the imposters who lead the ambush. She knew that Pantherstorm would never pass up the opportunity to take her down, as much as he loathed her. Challenging him directly would assuredly lure him in.
However, it was quickly revealed that the calico warrior was not alone- almost on command with her taunts, a flood of warriors charged over the hillside and barraged the group of ambushers to come to the defense of the cats who had finally decided to fight back. And Wisteriastar joined them, starting with Hawkstar. She slammed the blunt of her weight against the tom's flank; while she may have appeared petite, the weight of her toned body hit harder than one would intitally expect, which gave her the chance of catching the other feline off their footing. Using that to her advantage, she hooked her paw under the tom's hindleg and took his balance from him, forcing him to hit the ground with a thud.
"No reasonable leader would turn on their deputy!" She spat with scorn down at the tom, "Get your head straight, Hawkstar!" She called, trying to urge forth the soul of the leader caught deeper within.
Hawkstar walked solemnly through the misty grove, pausing only when a sheet of raindrops began to fall. They passed through his phantom form to dapple the undisturbed grass beneath his feet, as if he was not there at all. Sound was also muted. Thunder peeled in the distance, but was more of a murmur to his spectral ears. The world around him moved and breathed, oblivious to the liminal interloper that stood in the clearing.
He’d arrived at last. This was the place where the battle was to happen, if he had seen truly from his invisible position in each of the camps. His heart ached thoroughly for the blood about to be shed here. Would their plan even work? He had to believe it would, else this shadow of an existence was to become his norm.
Shapes loomed in the foggy distance, revealing themselves to be ThunderClan Warriors making their way to the summit. Many wore faces of resigned grimness, but Hawkstar had eyes only for his own face.
At the head of the pack, striding purposefully beside a worrying Briarstep, was his body.
In truth, it had seen better days. Hawkstar had no experience with the laws of spirits, of how their physicality was ruled, but from what he was seeing now he was willing to wager a soul stuffed into the wrong container would eventually turn foul like crowfood. The once-sleek and thin body was bulging awkwardly around the shoulders and flank, sunken in other areas to form a gruesome topography of flesh and bone. His pelt was ragged and thinning in various areas, particularly along the spine which arched high, its vertebrae jutting up like mountain peaks. Further down by the ankles his skin was stretched and riding up, revealing pale white paws that could belong to none other than the ghastly tomcat wearing his skin.
The head turned to fix him with a stranger's eyes shining out from his own face. A cold thrill shot through Hawkstar’s soul. He knew Copperheart could see him.
He could only watch as his body then threw itself at Briarstep, who it warmed him to see, had turned back at the last minute. Good on you boy. Don’t follow me off a cliff.
The fight predictably stirred up a great commotion between the ThunderClanners, who yowled with confusion, some of them moving forward to intervene whilst others stood in their path. He saw Palefawn snarling in Goldenpaw’s face, the latter responding by raking her claws over the older Warrior’s muzzle. Blood spattered the earth.
Cripes, this is embarrassing. The enemy hasn’t even shown up yet and we are fighting amongst ourselves. It would have been humiliating had this entire war not been a farce.
The group quelled slightly as movement emanated from somewhere beyond the veil of mist. Was the ‘enemy’ here at last?