P A N T H E R S T O R M
A tom blacker than the night slipped through the foggy grounds of the forest. His form was but a shadow that seemed to wade through the trees, making his way towards a certain destination. He didn’t seem real, the way his figure slithered between the dense, dark forest or the way his paws barely hovered above the earth. It was almost like he merely resembled the shape of a cat’s silhouette rather than actually being feline himself.
The only thing that hinted he was once a living warrior was the cold glint of his yellow eyes in the darkness. It was difficult to tell what was what or rather- who was who, in the place of no stars. The forest in which those who committed the most heinous of crimes in their lifetimes were banished to walk for all eternity. It was so dark here, a place without the light of the sun or the glow of the moon. But he didn’t find himself particularly uneasy with the solitude or the emptiness. If anything, he preferred it. He thought it was better this way, with no one to intercept him or his own desires.
However, there was one thing he realized in his time here. The other spirits were becoming disruptive. He had become quite used to not interacting with anyone else in the Dark Forest, as their paths were typically arranged so that they were not allowed to run into another cat. Not that it mattered to him, since he never really cared for company anyway. But recently, he noticed that he caught glimpses of other shadows in the darkness around him. It never lasted long, almost as though the moment they caught sight of each other, they were torn apart. He wanted to test something, to see how far he could stretch the boundaries of this supernatural phenomenon.
Now, he stalked forward with a purpose. He planned on finding another cat in this forest, no matter how long it took him. If he was doomed to walk these woods until he faded away, with no concept of time, then what would it matter if he were to search for something in the meantime? He prowled and he prowled, his paws not stopping for a single heartbeat in his search for another form of life. He didn’t feel hungry. Nor did he feel tired. He simply existed. He existed to move forward, to find someone else in this everlasting emptiness.
Eventually, he happened upon the shape of another cat in-between the shadows of the trees ahead. He didn’t know how long he had walked for, but it was irrelevant. He had succeeded in finding another cat. He crept forward silently, as if he may have been cautious of whatever paranormal force that ruled over them here, like it might have threatened to tear him away if he got too close. But nothing happened. He stepped in front of the other feline and locked eyes with him.
“Greetings.” He spoke stoically, his voice gravelly and rough from the fact that he hadn’t spoken in perhaps many seasons. “My name is Pantherstorm. What’s yours?”
The hunger for payback and the thirst for revenge danced in the other tom's eyes as he leaned forward to drink in Pantherstorm's words. I have him now, he thought victoriously to himself. He had played his cards correctly thus far, and if he proceeded forward with the same intent, Copperheart would prove to be a valuable asset in his goals.
"Do you think ghosts have no right to step in the realm of those who are living?" Pantherstorm countered his question with one of his own- one of those contemptuous turn-arounds a scornful teacher would play on a student, as if they should simply have already known the answer. "If those whose pelts glitter with stars can cross those boundaries, it makes sense that we can do the same. We can walk the same grounds, breathe the same air, and spread our influence just as easily as they do."
"Actually..." he paused, his pale yellow eyes narrowing in glee. "There is the existence of one cat, who seems to possess the gift to interact with the dead unlike any other. It is because of him that the boundaries between our territory and those of the living has become blurred. This opening gives us quite the room to roam, among other things..."
"All we have to do is start here."
Copperheart now observed Pantherstorm with interest, though doubts shadowed his two-toned gaze. It was true that he hungered greatly for some sense of closure to his own story. Too long he had walked these desolate woods with only his own thoughts as company. Retelling the story of betrayal to himself so many times that it now bore no resemblance to what had truly taken place. The truth consumed and regurgitated so many times in the bile of his bitter mind as to become beyond recognition.
“What exactly are you suggesting? What power can we, mere ghosts, exert over the Clans?” Though even as he questioned the idea, he was leaning forward. His blue-and-amber eyes danced like gemstones held to flame.
He was done with recounting the past. It was time for a new chapter.
P A N T H E R S T O R M
Despite the shortcomings of his rather detestable personality, the other tom didn't immediately turn around and leave either. Perhaps he, too, assumed that his company was worth something, even if he was less than desirable as a companion. Maybe it was possible that the two of them could see eye-to-eye on something, after all.
His pale golden eyes narrowed dangerously at Copperheart's suggestion that his goal was foolish to aim for. Nevertheless, he listened as the SkyClan tom went about telling him his view of things and how he ultimately met his end. If he could feel sympathy, perhaps he would have expressed his condolences to the tom for his losses. Instead, however, he replied stoically while the other tom coughed up blood, "Then perhaps we ought to teach the Clans that the shadows of their past never truly disappear."
"I, too, come from the lineage of a Clan leader that did not protect me under her own guidance. Don't you think it would be worth showing them how little their leaders can shelter the flaws of their own Clan?"
Copperheart sat back on his haunches, tossing his shoulders in an impish shrug. He loathed cats who looked down on him, who looked around and saw everything as beneath them. But the odds of running across an altruistic soul such as himself in this place were…slim. It would be easy enough to just walk away, if he felt so inclined. But boredom was not calling his name. The monotony of solitude was still fairly unpalatable.
“A fool’s aim, if you ask me. The Clans don’t want to change, why do you think they built a system that rewards the fearful? My own father led SkyClan, yet he was happy enough to sweep my death under the nest. They’re all hypocrites when it really comes down to the bones of it. I was murdered, and that death was covered up to avoid change. Accountability for killers who follow a code that absolves them of blame.”
He sighed, and broke off in a cough that saw phantom droplets of blood fall before his hunched figure.
Copperheart’s two-toned gaze focused on the tomcat that now stood before him. His fur was bristling slightly, for he had not heard him approaching. Wraths as they were, they had little effect on their surroundings. He looked him up and down with scrutiny, his lips already forming a grimace.
“I’m Copperheart, of SkyClan– when I was alive, anyways.” He lifted a white gloved paw to the eternal gash where his throat sat mangled and laid open beneath his chin. His voice was raspy, like a dry branch rattling in the wind. But due perhaps to some supernatural logic, it still functioned well enough. Not that it saw much use these days.
“I suppose the customary thing would be to discuss how each of us got here,” He sneered contemptuously. “Unless you are like me, betrayed and scapegoated by everyone you ever gave a damn about. What say you, Pantherstorm?”