The Winds of Winter [PLOT FINALE]

Fallowpaw sat silently, barely fidgeting under the tension that lay across Fourtrees. She was settled among several of her fellow exiles, still not comfortable among the strange, unpolished Regime cats. She glanced up at Lichenmask, then down at the ground again. Now was the time to fight for purity, at Lichenmask's side. Finally, the moment was coming that she had waited for for moons, and she found herself a little bit wary. Just the thought of battling her old Clanmates to the death was a little disquieting, but it was too late to change her mind now. But given the chance, she would never change sides. This was what she what she wanted.

As usual, Brushgaze was right behind her leader Lichenmask. However, she was having trouble focusing upon the task at paw. With every step across the increasingly familiar ground, her mind returned to her five beautiful kits, left back in the Barn where they would be safe. Even though she knew that she would return for them shortly, it still put her through incredible pain to be without them… and she knew that their father didn’t feel the same way. It was horrible, how little he cared for his own offspring. Hopefully, once they defeated these impure and foolish kittypets, there would be a time of peace, and she could perhaps get the tom to spend some time with his own kits. Maybe he’d become a better cat, the cat he used to be, once StarClan stopped pressing on him so hard. With a deep breath, anticipation and worry tingling through every part of her body, she sat behind her mate and waited.

Thornleap crouched beside his comrades, his pale eyes two pinpricks of light as he peered out of the undergrowth. His heart pounded in his chest, his breathing becoming ragged as adrenaline coursed through his body. Any moment now... He could see it now: Windclan's newest deputy. Brindlestar would be so proud of him.

Vibrant foliage had curled up and died beneath the harsh red light of the eclipsed sky, the lusciousness of the forest giving way to nothing more than the smoldering carcass of its decaying corpse. Even now, as the early evening sky roiled and churned under the influence of a brewing storm, only the taste of death was upon the winds. Was this Lichenmask? Could one truly wield such incredible gifts that they could not only destroy the sky, but annihilate the life that resided beneath it as well? How could one who claimed to value survival leave behind such a legacy of death? Pausing upon the rocky crest that bled freely into the hollow of Fourtrees, the true depth of Brindlestar's emotions were lost within the heavy shadows that crawled across her features. Despair weighed heavily atop her shoulders, crushing her being with the sheer force of the dismal depths of her sentiments. She had perceived enough war to last lifetimes, yet here they were once again- only this time, fighting those they had once called Clanmates. "Remember," Her voice was ominously soft as she addressed her small party of Clanmates without turning to meet their inquisitive stares, "Do what you must to ensure the safety of those you've left behind. If you must take life to accomplish such a feat, then do not take it lightly." Without waiting to gauge an immediate response to her command, Brindlestar was brushing past the drooping tendrils of mixed grasses that arose up around her to protectively encase the contents of the sacred hollow, resisting the urge to bristle at the sight of countless phosphorescent gazes.

It appeared as though the Exiles had grown in numbers- with a plethora of unrecognizable members lurking alongside their newfound allies. Hardened features, scrawny and scarred, were too harsh to exhibit the same rugged allure of a Clan cat. Pridefully tilting her narrow muzzle skyward as she stalked through the parting sea of exalted former natives, hardly sparring a single soul a measly glance as she guided the loosely bunched party of moordwellers before Lichenmask. Perhaps it was just a mere trick of her hyperactive mind, but the grass below her paws suddenly felt stiff once more, hardened by the familiar viscous liquid that had formerly belonged to Littlestar. "Lichenmask," Brindlestar abraded voice rose into a resonating snarl, "I hope you've come to consider our words with what little wisdom you might possess."

The cream tabby body of Lionpaw padded up with the rest of his clan. He was ecstatic when he had heard he had been chosen to be on the force that drove out these mangy crow-food eaters once and for all. His golden eyes glinted with a sort of darkness he only could enjoy when he was in battle. In battle would he be. His fluffy body was quite noticeable amongst his sleek furred companions, but his size was one to be reckoned with at this point. He hadn't spotted the other clans yet. He didn't care if they were here or not. Mosspaw wasn't able to come with them. He was fighting for the calico molly he loved. He fought for Mosspaw and Windclan only, he couldn't give a mouse if the other clans all died, as long as Windclan survived. He flexed his claws, ready to fight.

When Brindlestar stepped out, so did the rest of the clan. Even if he was in the middle, closer to the warriors of his clan than the outside forces, he could still quite easily see over many of them. A slightly wild looking smirk came over his facial features as he truly saw his opponents. They'd be defeated with ease. Even if he went down, which he doubted he would, Windclan would still defeat them. They'd defeat the filthy rogues with them too.

Barletytuft took a deep breath, surprised to find how it shook in his chest. He did his best to keep his short, sandy tabby pelt flat, but there were too many emotions rattling inside him along with the cold and foreboding that raged from the outside. Still, he could feel his Clanmates moving swiftly around on all sides of him, and as he watched Brindlestar move condifently through the underbrush he gathered up all his resolve. He was fighting for WindClan, for Brindlestar, and Swiftstep, and Oakberry, and Brookpaw. This was what he had wanted all his life: to defend his Clan.

When Brindlestar addressed them, Barleytuft felt his spirits sink a little. He thought of his recent mock battle with the RiverClan she-cat, Flamewish, and how they had tried hard not to draw blood. Barleytuft knew that these former Clan cats would not be so kind - Lichenmask had proved that when he slaughtered Littlestar. They knew the warrior code and had chosen to forsake it. If they wanted to fight to the death then Barleytuft would do so. Brindlestar swiftly turned and entered the clearing, and the sandy WindClan warrior followed his leader.

Barleytuft had been to Fourtrees several times now, but it had never looked the way it did to him then. It looked like a battleground, rather than a meeting place under truce. He took another shaky, deep breath and faced his enemies - the Exiles, and Lichenmask. He spotted his former Clanmate, Thornleap, among the crowd, and suddenly the uneasiness was replaced with anger and betrayal. How dare that cat call themself WindClan after what he had tried to do to his Clanmates? Former Clanmates.

Now the young warrior stood tall, glaring evenly at the crowd of exiles as he waited near his leader and Clanmates.

Mistpaw padded up to shoulder her mother, brushing her fluffy grey pelt against hers as she looked evenly down at the exiles, nervousness thrumming through her. Brindlestar's strong voice vibrated through Mistpaw and gave her comfort, her eyes closing in her wish to lay down in her nest and cuddle with her mother on a cold night.

Standing shoulder to shoulder next to Brindlestar, not quite touching or even brushing his bushy fur against her shorter pelt, Scorchfang gazed off at the cats he and his fellow Clans once called Clanmates, before they abandoned them all. His eyes narrowed at Lichenmask, and his lips drew back in a snarl; this was the cat that had murdered Littlestar, who had stripped her of all nine lives with one swipe of his claws. It was clear that he had uncanny and downright terrifying skills in combat, so he knew he and his fellow leaders needed to be careful. If history were to repeat itself, they all could very well might as well just have one life at their disposal as well.

His orange gaze shifted from Lichenmask to a cat he had never truly seen before, but he instantly knew just who this cat was. Shade. His firstborn son. Stars, he looked just like Rowantalon, and his amber eyes were the same color as Sweet’s. But while his first mate’s eyes always shone with a sad sort of compassion, this cat’s were glistening with pure excited evil. It sent a chill down his spine, and he forced his fur to stay flat. How in StarClan’s name could a cat like him conceive with a beautiful and compassionate molly such a creature with no morality?

Perhaps it was a good thing that Minnowcall sat this battle out. He didn’t want to even begin to think of what he would do if he lost his mate to his own son. Wildstrike had been ordered to help protect the camp, his second eldest son Liontail was still too sick to fight, and one of his youngest sons Poppypaw was practically forced by his own littermate not to partake in combat. He wished he could have protected Orchidpaw, Crowfur, and Daisyflame from the threat of death as well, but he knew he couldn’t keep all his cats out of battle. ShadowClan needed to be just as strong as the other Clans if there were any hope in taking their enemies down.

---

Shade’s lips curled when he made eye contact with Scorchfang. This was the first time he had ever seen his true father. He knew better than to be impressed or intimidated by his size, however; this cat was a soft little coward who had never even once tried to own up to his mistakes in breaking the warrior code to be there for him, even if he and his mother were from different Clans. Before the night was over, he would make sure that this tom paid dearly.

---

A soft growl rose in Orchidpaw’s throat where he stood behind his father and his deputy next to Sparkpaw. These cats have all done the Clans such a disservice by abandoning them, but no one more so than Lichenmask for killing ShadowClan’s precious leader. Even if he died in battle and never got to see Sparkpaw or Poppypaw again, he would make sure this vile fox-heart got karmic retribution for being a dirty leader killer.

Ravenpaw stood next to her brother, scarred eyes glimmering with uncertainty. Swallowing, she tried to judge by sound and scent the number of opponents they were facing, but it was impossible to tell. She just hoped no one would die tonight. She fought the temptation to shift closer to Orchidpaw. If we have any chance of winning this, I can't rely on others for everything. Crowfur has trained me well. I'm sure I can at least hold my own. The black-and-silver molly shivered with a mixture of fear and anticipation. No one had forced her to come. She was here to defend her Clan. Her home. Her family.
__________________________________________________________________________________
Wolf's ear twitched with impatience. Why did they have to wait? Wouldn't it be better to attack when they had only two Clans to face? Suddenly Wolf spotted some familiar faces among the WindClan cats. She flicked her tail in nervousness, frightened for the first time in her life. Frightened that a WindClanner might recognize her from kithood and drag her back. A bit confused by the fact that she didn't see Graybriar, the hesitation was clear in her stance. Only now did it hit her that she would be fighting her relatives. No, the Regime was her family now. The only cats she held any loyalty to were Xeuxi and Shade. Not Lichenmask. Not Brindlestar. Not Badgerthorn or Graybriar. Those cats were strangers to her now. Although... perhaps after the battle she would pay her mother a visit, if only to exchange harsh words.

He was slightly nervous. He couldn't deny it. However, he wasn't going to show it. Swiftstep stood behind Brindlestar. He didn't let any of his emotions show through. He needed to be strong for his clan. They were his family. He'd be devistated if he lost any one of them during this fight. The tom looked over at Barleytuft, flashing him one of his signature grins. The evil will not come out of this victorious!
--------------------------------
Crowfur was slightly behind Scorchfang. He had his head high. He feared no cat and he wasn't about to show any signs of weakness. The only thing he did fear was losing someone close. The large warrior noticed Ravenpaw's nervousness and slowly stepped over to her. He then pressed his pelt against her's. He was going to do what he must to protect his clan, even if it meant losing his life.
-------------------------------
Cold blue eyes shone with hatred from the shadows. Darkpaw absolutely hated the Windclan leader and deputy. How he longed this day to come. He'd show them how strong he truly is! The tom let out a silent snarl as he listened to Brindlestar speak. Pathetic. She was nothing more than a joke. Trying to act tough wasn't going to save her. Darkpaw was ready to dig his claws into some flesh.

Sparkpaw stood by Orchidpaw, whose eyes were set on Lichenmask. "We have yet to reach the battle. Lichenmask is powerful, after all, leave him to the leaders. We can help take out the followers." She growled to him quietly. "And I swear if you even try to sleep or die out there..." She trailed off, not wanting to bear the thought of Orchidpaw dying. Poppypaw would be devestated and Scorchfang would be furious... And she would have failed him. It was her job to keep him safe and alive, since he wasn't willing to do it himself.

Entering Fourtrees with his party of clanmates in tow, Tinystar made his way over to the already arrived leaders and stood next to Scorchfang, his blue gaze fixed on Lichenmask. Next to the RiverClanner was a cat whom he hadn't had the chance to see before, but he knew perfectly well who he was; Shade. The two exiles joining forces made sense, seeing as they both wanted nothing the clan's suffering, but their grown numbers sent another wave of worry up the small tom's spine. They should've known that Lichenmask was going to seek help, which would make the battle to come more difficult for the clan cats... No, he couldn't doubt them. No matter what, a battle was inevitable and while the stars were missing, Tinystar still believed that their ancestors were looking down on them somewhere from the vast darkness above, and hopefully had the clans' victory in favor...

~~~~~

Standing amongst the crowd of ShadowClanners, Daisyflame looked up at Lichenmask, wanting nothing more than to claw his pelt off. That brute... he would pay for his crimes against his family and clan. That being said, it was extremely hard for his fur to not raise and his claws to stay sheathed, seeing as though the clans were surrounded by enemies... But, he somehow managed, though he was still on high alert, seeing as though a fight could break out any moment.

Amberpaw crept after her Clan, mulling over the plan in her brain. As SkyClan's medicine cat apprentice, she hadn't received much battle training; half the reason she'd become a medicine cat in the first place was because she'd shown no interest or real skill in fighting as a kit. With that in mind, Amberpaw stayed in the underbrush, a thick bundle of herbs held tightly in her mouth, as her Clanmates entered the clearing of Fourtrees to face the threat of the Exiles. ShadowClan and WindClan had already arrived, looking ready to fight.

The young golden tabby she-cat took a deep breath and sat her herbs down under the relative safety of a thick bush where she could quickly treat injured cats and give them somewhere to shelter and recover before getting back into battle. Amberpaw listened anxiously to the angry voices beginning to echo through the clearing. She prayed to StarClan - if there were any good cats left among her ancestors - that it wouldn't come to a battle. If it did, though, Amberpaw would be ready.

As the conversations progressed, Amberpaw examined her nearby surroundings, searching for anything that might help her heal: moss, herbs, sticks, cobwebs. Though she could hear her heart pounding in her ears, she couldn't let the Clans down. She could panic later.

Elmpaw crept into the clearing with the rest of his Clan, green eyes dark as he stopped near Brindlestar. His tail lashed with agitation, his hackles raised slightly from anticipation and fear. This was his first battle at this scale and he was definitely scared to say the least. He had to give it his all, though. Shrugging his shoulders a little to relieve some tension, he raised his head high and glared across the clearing at the Exiles. He was ready to have blood on his claws if it meant he could protect Brindlestar, his Clan, his livelihood, and the forest. The old apprentice's lips curled back from his teeth in a snarl, unsheathing his claws.

Spiderfur struggled to contain a nervous twitch as she followed the younger cats into the dismally decrepit Fourtrees. Twice now she'd fought an unholy battle beneath the reaching boughs of the giant trees, and today - tonight? - would make it thrice. The unbearably cyclical nature of history was not lost on the old she-cat as she found herself staring at her former Clanmates standing with the sun-killer Lichenmask. A chill ran up her spine at the thought that soon, she'd be fighting them. Though slightly disheartened by this thought, she moved her gaze to Swiftstep. Her wonderful, strong son. He was the reason why she came and why she fought. Littlestar's swift murder by Lichenmask shook her to the core. Spiderfur found herself next to her son semi-protectively, despite the fact he was far bigger. These cats, they wouldn't spare her son after learning where he came from, she wouldn't either but that wasn't what was at stake here, never would she allow harm to come to him. He was all she had left of Wildfang and StarClan forbid they try to kill their son. The little brown she-cat still held terror in her heart, but this would be all or nothing. If they lost, there would be no reason for her to live any longer.


A somewhat bedraggled-looking she-cat came behind Tinystar. The young mother followed with a determined look in her bright blue eyes, glancing over the exiles only briefly so as not to lose her resolve. She completely avoided looking at her former apprentice Falcongaze. Tonight she'd fight for her mate and her kits' right to live amongst the clans despite their blood. Firflower had found something wonderful growing up in SkyClan and she wasn't about to let it all come crashing down around her. Sagepaw, Spottedpaw and Robinkit were all counting on her here. Passing by her concerned-looking medicine cat apprentice, the queen gave Amberpaw an encouraging brush on her flank before moving to join the rest of her Clanmates in the dark clearing.