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.”