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.