(WILL REWRITE IN THE FUTURE) The Darkness Begins: Whispering Secrets

|| Chapter 3 ||

The sky, plastered with white stars against pale black, released Branchkit from any uncertainty upon leaving camp. Though he could smell Eaglefeather, due to being only a kit and not properly trained, couldn't follow the scent trail. He got lost, but it didn't matter to him, he was just invested in looking at the stars. Wow....Silverpelt is as beautiful as Poppykit, the young tom thought. He continued to walk, sensing no dangers in his distractions. The sound of dogs barking from afar was an unperceived threat. So, after walking 3 tree-lengths, he sat in a clearing which better allowed a view of the stars.

Eaglefeather, too, noticed the barking in the distance, and worried how the distance was closing. Catch a couple of voles...just real quick, the father thought. Tracking down a vole nest, he started to dig. The voles, awoken, tried to find a route of escape. He caught one, snapping it's neck. However, the barking was getting closer and closer - to the point where he could now scent them. Bad for him; he was far away from camp; good for him; he was close to trees which he could climb quickly. "One more....just one more," he muttered to himself. He stayed, trying to scent where the other voles ran out to, which oddly enough, would bring him closer to Branchkit.

His son, still oblivious to the danger before him, finally began to lose trance in the stars to the approaching barks. I need to hide... Branchkit thought as he scrambled to a nearby bush. Suddenly, they were before him, scenting the grass which led to him. Snarling, one started to stick it's head through while snapping it's jaws, which triggered his innate queue to run. Flight or fight; the young kit immediately determined to escape. Swiftly, he shot out, running as fast as he could. He glanced towards his side, and saw two dogs in pursuit; he went into pure panic.

While one of the dogs was behind him, the other launched at his side, sinking it's teeth deep into his spine. He screeched in extreme pain, his warm blood seeping down him, as the dogs' grunts and snarls grew distant. They threw him to the side, but the dogs were not done yet. The smaller of the pair pulled his leg, biting deep, a snap so severe; nearly severing his leg. Blood splattered his lifeless body; mouth open in a silent scream.  

Eaglefeather heard the screech, stopping his hunt as the painful cries sounded. He rushed to reach the violence, forgetting his quest for voles, and heard the sounds of pure joy only dogs exude when harming a cat. This must be a member of my Clan! Racing, he reached the clearing in time to see a poor young cat being shaken and tossed as a plaything by two dogs. The thud of this blood-soaked body against grass triggered his warrior instincts. He needed to save that cat, whomever it may be.

Charging towards the body - simultaneously shielding, and recognizing his son's pelt pattern upon this battered body; tears formed in his eyes. No! He can't be dead! He saw the slow rises and falls of the tom's chest as the dogs momentarily halted before lunging at him. Hope that his kit can still survive he battled with no concern for himself; no clear judgement used - as a warrior is meant, other than to protect and preserve Branchkit. One grabbed his scruff, giving him a good shake. He gouged at the dogs eyes, making it yelp. Running back to the cat, he tried to protect him, luring the dogs attention to him, and only him. He leapt at one of their face, clawing frantically. As the other tugged him off, he twisted his paw and raked the inside of its mouth. With a yelp, he was dropped. He had bite marks on his side and tail, but stayed up, despite the pain and blood-loss. Pouncing onto the smaller dog, he latched on, scratching at its flank furiously. The merciless beast turned its head round in a quick motion, grabbing and crushing one of the tom's front paws. An audible crunch still did not relinquish Eaglefeather's hold until the larger dog grabbed near his hindquarters - snapping Eaglefeather's lower spine. He fell to the ground heavy with paralysis in body and spirit of defeat - heavy in fear for his kit. He heaved himself to his uninjured front paw in one final effort....I'm sorry Branchkit. 

Under the star lit sky, silence resumed as the canines moved to wage havoc elsewhere. Against the backdrop of blood strewn grass - one chest continued to rise and fall, breath of life struggling to fulfill StarClan's wishes to continue....

So...chapter 3! I've never really written fight scenes before, but I think I can improve over time.