Juncostar
shadowclan leader
Hawkstar had called him out to the border for a private meeting. Though there was a gnawing sense of dread clinging to his belly, Juncostar was desperate for some way to make the other tom see reason. Perhaps if they could meet one on one without Ospreyshadow to antagonize, they could come to some agreement that would keep the kits in ShadowClan and ThunderClan off their border. After the patrol that had gone all sorts of wrong, the ShadowClanner had been on edge. He knew that it wasn't the fault of Hawkstar directly, and so tried to quell the rage that had settled in his gut immediately on hearing what had happened. Warriors had hot tempers, especially when they felt so strongly for one side of a cause or another. Of course, Hawkstar should keep a check on his kin, but Juncostar was willing to brush it aside just enough to meet with the tom to try and settle their differences.
Of course, he wasn't going to just hand over his grand-nieces and -nephews so quickly; he would be fighting for them even now when he was aiming for peace. Something in him, however, told him it wouldn't be so simple. He had hope, but he feared that hope was misplaced. Coming toward the ThunderClan border, Juncostar hesitated briefly. He could just turn back that moment; he could walk away and shirk his duties as a diplomat. He'd never been a great one, anyway. His method was a lot of lying and flattery, and likely wouldn't get him anywhere if Hawkstar was determined not to be flattered.
Shaking his head roughly, he set on his way again. This wasn't going to be easy, but it needed done. He'd just have to keep reminding himself of that. Breathing a heavy sigh, the tom pushed through the last of the brush that lay between him and the border. Forcing a hop in his step, his tail held high and his chin as well, the tom came face to face with Hawkstar across the border. "Hey there," he greeted happily, his tone hardly letting slip how uneasy he was to be going into this meeting. If there was anything he could lay claim to, it was his easygoing atmosphere that somehow found its way into most interactions. It was very rare he let it slip, and he was desperate not to let it slip this time. "So what was it you wanted to say?"
Hawkstar wanted to laugh, but managed to restrain himself. He’d had no great love for that slimy Warrior, but it was still prudent to be respectful. A death was a death, and seldom was humor the appropriate response.
“What you call convenience, I am tempted to say, was justice from StarClan.” His eyes blazed as he spoke.
“But I’ve never been one to let the stars handle my battles. Your Warriors will answer for Lightwing’s death with their blood, and think twice about taking a ThunderClan life from then on. Three days from now, at dawn, at ThunderClan’s pointed stones.”
It might be unusual not to hold the battle on neutral grounds, but Hawkstar desired the home advantage, and as the party issuing the challenge he was able to secure that. His claws itched. It had been some time since they’d last ripped through fur and skin, and he found that he quite enjoyed a good brawl here and there. He did not, of course, want anyone else dead. But a few well-placed wounds might remind their neighbors that they were not a Clan to be dismissed.
“I shall like to see you try, Juncostar.” He laughed, before spinning on his heel and prowling back from whence he had come. The forest swallowed his black figure into its shadows.
Juncostar
shadowclan leader
(he/him)
Face falling as Hawkstar mentioned the loss of life in ThunderClan, Juncostar lashed his tail. "A senior warrior and my uncle," he responded, eyes growing dark as the other tom continued to speak. He had heard the accounts from his own warriors about the manner in which Lightwing had died, but he had refused to admit that his kin could be so malicious. He hadn't been there, of course, and so he had the freedom to deny the stories.
"Convenient that Murktongue isn't here to defend himself, huh?" he spat, the fur on the back of his neck rising at the threat. A battle? Of all the things he'd been expecting to hear, this was the last on his list. "If you think you stand any chance of takin' those kits, you're wrong," he growled, "But we'll meet you. Just name a time 'n place, and we'll be glad to hand you and your warriors your tails."
Hawkstar’s affect was somber and stony. If his friend had hoped to find any kinship in an olive branch, he’d made it clear from his cold gaze and clenched jaw that none was to be found. Some of his stiffness was owed to the cold. A dusting of snow covered his medium-length black pelt, like frosty stars amid a night sky. Flames flickered and fell as he plunged step after step through the shallow snow which had fallen the night before.
“I wish I bore less grim tidings, my friend.” He meowed, the words taking the shape of frosted breath in the air. “But I think we both know that the time to turn the other cheek has passed. Blood was spilled, and a young Warrior of my Clan is dead.”
“I’m not unaware you suffered loss as well– Murktongue was a senior Warrior, no?” He continued. “Lightwing was no older than myself. And eyewitnesses describe his manner of passing as most unusual. He collapsed after facing your Murktongue, frothing at the mouth. He was dead in seconds.” Pain laced every word. It had been a cold night not unlike this that Hawkstar had limped back to camp, a young Lightwing leaning on his shoulder having just been rescued from a group of thug bullies from his birth Clan, ShadowClan. He’d joined ThunderClan for a new start. Yet it appeared now that ShadowClan was always meant to be his end. Would you not have died if I’d left you? It would have been hard, but you might have lived…
“Now of course, a battle is chaotic. Who’s to say if these accounts are accurate? Or that they imply what I think we both know in our hearts.” He glared. “After all, young cats can have undetected conditions. It’s rare, but it happens.”
He continued pacing, allowing his words to settle.
“But I’ve never believed in coincidences. Not like that. Something happened, and for that ShadowClan will answer.” He faced Juncostar now.
“I challenge ShadowClan to a battle against ThunderClan. Victory will decide the custody of the kits. You may refuse. That is your right. But ThunderClan is coming either way. I offer you now the opportunity to meet us on the field, we are not rogues who would ambush in the night. But we will have our dues.”