//Un//masked

// chapter 34 //

This isn't real, he thought.

But the longer he stared at the blank copper eyes, the more real it became. When Dawnstar opened her jaws, letting the tabby and white body of Wrenflight fall to the ground, the resounding thud brought reality crashing onto him and, suddenly, Nightchaser felt an almighty roar leave his body.

Without thought, he threw himself at the DarkClan leader, blood pulsing through his veins and a red haze over his eyes. He was ready to sink his claws and teeth into her shoulder, her chest, her stomach, any part of her he could reach.

He stopped short as jaws clamped down on his tail, pulling him back. Yowling with pain, the truth-teller wheeled to face Flamestrike once more, the haze over his eyes so thick the tom seemed the colour of his namesake – a flickering, deep red.

The ginger tom hissed, moving to rake his claws over Nightchaser's face, but the truth-teller blocked his attack. Moons of nightly training had taught him his littermate's favoured moves and he could get around them easily. Unfortunately, the same could be said for Flamestrike.

Again, the black tom found himself locked in a seemingly never-ending circle of blows, parries, and feints, the two of them matching each other step for step, hit for hit. The tiredness he had felt when battling Minkfur did not affect Nightchaser now as he seethed with pure rage, bent on only one thing: revenge.

"Love doesn't make me so weak now, does it?!" he roared as he finally got past Flamestrike's defences, slashing across his jaw. The blow hit the ginger tom exactly where Nightchaser had hit him during training all those moons ago. For a single moment, the haze lifted, but one glance at Wrenflight's body returned it. Nightchaser advanced on his injured littermate.

"Answer me, brother," he spat.

Flamestrike's bloodied jaw parted. "You're no brother of mine," the tom hissed back.

Blood boiling, Nightchaser struck at Flamestrike's throat, all thoughts of mercy and justice far away from his mind.

Before his claws could break skin, he was thrown aside by another, stronger tom. Gasping for air, he looked up to see an identical black face staring down at him.

"This is the first time I have seen you act like a true DarkClan cat," the deputy murmured, circling the fallen truth-teller. "Only in the heat of battle, when you claim that love is what makes you strong, do you suddenly become the ambitious, strong cat that DarkClan yearns for."

Nightchaser narrowed his eyes, getting back up to his feet. Behind Spiderthorn, he could see Flamestrike doing the same. Around them, the battle raged on.

"But is it really love that drives you forward?" Spiderthorn questioned, continuing his rounds. Nightchaser shifted so that he was always facing him, refusing to leave his tail unguarded.

"What did seeing Morningfire's dead body do for you?" Nightchaser replied icily. His father's stumble at the mention of his former mate caused the truth-teller great satisfaction and he pressed forward.

"Love drove her forward. It was when you refused to love her back that she crumpled, unable to take care of her kits. You're the reason why she killed herself!"

His voice had risen to a screech and a few of the battling cats near them halted in their assaults.

Spiderthorn shook as he spoke. "I was not the reason she took her own life. You were."

Nightchaser's boiling blood turned cold in an instant. His father drew himself up to his full height, suddenly much bigger, leaving the truth-teller feeling like a kit once more.