Drenching downpours (Closed)\

Boom! A lightning bolt crashed somewhere in the distance as a seemingly never-ending storm of rain poured down, drenching any cat who dared step outside of their den. Another crack of lightning flashed and thunder roared as a small, scrawny tabby tom came to a stop at the thunderpath. Mouseclaw collapsed right where he was into a puddle, not having the energy to move anywhere warmer or dryer. He needed to escape clan life just for a little bit...he didn't care if it was raining or not. He desperately wanted to have an hour or two without all his annoying clan mates up his butt. He hated them...he hated them all, with a raging, burning hate. He knew that it was the cats of the dark forest doing this to him, and he didn't mind. Another bolt of lightning and a louder boom of thunder came as he looked across the thunderpath. There, he saw the silhouette of a cat amongst the shadows. Unsheathing his claws was the only thing he could do with the amount of energy he had left.

The storm was vicious, and it made it hard to see or track anything but the clan needed to eat, so Duskfall had left on hunting patrol with Hawkpaw and some other warriors. They were all dispersed but all moving with the common goal of find prey. Which was why he raced closer to the Thunderpath than he usually would chasing a mouse that had been nibbling on a seed. He was close to dispatching it when he came across another Clan cat near the Thunderpath. He bristled at the possible intruder, but didn't get closer as the tom had yet to enter into their territory.

Hawkpaw following her father, raced up to him when she noticed he was tensing up. Not as diplomatic as her father, or closer to wise enough, she hissed at the Shadowclan tom. "Who are you and what are you doing here?"

She got closer than her father, still off the Thunderpath, but only have a leaps away from the Tom.

OOC: You can have Mouseclaw attack Hawkpaw, and Duskfall can finish him off?

OOC: Okay

IC: Mouseclaw hissed at the two cats as he stood up. He had had it with the stupid Thunderclan cats...he had had it with everyone. With a burning rage able to catch stone on fire, he leaped at the she-cat apprentice and tackled her to the ground, clawing viciously at her face with his extra long sharp claws which the claw part of his name had come from. "Die, you dirty flea-bag," He screamed. "Die, every single last one of you!"

Hawkpaw yowled in both pain and terror as the larger Shadowclan warrior slashed at her face. Her muzzled dripped in blood and blinded her as she tried to fight back. But she was small compared to the warrior, and the best she could do was scratch as his chest, a place that did little damage. It was futile.

Had Hawkpaw been alone, it would have been her death, but Duskfall was there as well. The brown tom growled in fury as he geared into action. He leaped onto the tom, slamming into Mouseclaw's flank. He scored his claws down the tom's belly once he had him pinned, and showed no mercy. He had no idea why this cat had chosen to attack them, but that mattered little when the warrior had attacked his daughter.

Mouseclaw yowled with rage as he was tackled by the warrior. He clawed at the tom, struggling beneath him. The life was slowly draining out of the Shadowclan warrior...one simple bite to the neck would finish Mouseclaw off. "I'll get revenge for this," he spat. "Watch your back, Thunderclan! Especially you two!" He slammed an unsheathed claw across Duskfall's face, hoping to leave a scar to be remembered by, but not sure if his attack was powerful enough.

Duskfall's right eye bled profusely from the Shadowclan tom's swipe, but still he had no intention of killing the tom. It wasn't the way of a true warrior, to kill another cat was dishonourable. He tried his best to instead subdue him with physical strength, but it wasn't really working. The tom was weakening, but not enough or fast enough.

Hawkpaw watched on as her father struggled, she knew that the other warrior would die eventually from his wounds, but whether it came at the cost of her father or not was still up to debate. Duskfall was in perfect position for a killing bite, but she knew he wouldn't take it. Her father wouldn't do such as thing, even at his maddest, when a she-cat who killed his sister fought him, he didn't finished her off. It wasn't his way, so she made the choice for him. Dashing onto the road where the two toms were wrestling, she pounced, biting into his neck while her father had the tom pinned and snapping down. It was a fatal bite.

Mouseclaw was startled as he felt teeth sink into his neck. His eyes locked on the warrior, he knew it was the apprentice who had done the killing bite, the most dishonorable by all the clans. A smile played on his face as Mouseclaw stared deep into Duskfall's eyes. "Revenge," he whispered before going limp and eyes turning cold and foggy. Mouseclaw was finally dead. Finally!

Duskfall froze on top of the Shadowclan tom is horror, unable to process what had just happened. His daughter, gentle, empathetic Hawkpaw had killed the tom. His little she-kit who he'd thought had the best of him and Softsong was a killer. And looking into her eyes, he saw no remorse for her act, only concern for how he'd respond. It was like a physical blow had been struck, Duskfall leapt off the Tom, and dragged him to the Shadowclan side of the Thunderpath. Then his brown paws splashing rain water from the Thunderpath jerked away from the scene of the crime and left for camp.

Hawkpaw saw the look of utter horror and disgust in her father's eyes, but was unable to do anything about it as he left. The sand coloured she-cat had done it for him, to save her father. Duskfall already had numerous wounds from the SC tom. The right side of his face looked slashed up beyond repair, and in the worst case scenario, he could be blind in one eye. Why didn't he understand?

Self-righteous fury filled the little she-cat as she firmly believed she had done the right thing. She had defended her family and clan, there was no dishonour in that. She took one last look at the dead tom, lying on the grass glassy eyed, and left for camp as well. She had done the right thing.