One wrong move (closed)

Spottedpaw's deep amber eyes narrowed as he sized up his prey from a distance. The dumb squirrel was just sitting on its branch, gnawing on a couple of seeds it had just scavenged from the forest floor below. A cold breeze ruffled his pelt and reminded him that leafbare was coming and prey would be scarce soon. This was precisely why the ginger tom was out hunting. He was alone, even, having left camp just before dawn and started his illicit hunt when the first light shone weakly through the woods. He was too old to be a 'paw anymore. Spottedpaw had to prove himself worthy to receive his name after a bout of greencough kept him from training and participating in the war; Condorshade would be disappointed.

His claws gripped the bark of the branch he was balancing on even tighter. This squirrel, and as many more as he could catch this morning, would earn him his warrior name. He just knew it, as surely as he could feel the cold air through his pelt as he launched himself at his unsuspecting target. The squirrel turned suddenly, but too late--Spottedpaw's outstretched claws met its throat and silenced its frightened squeak with a crunch. His attention was drawn entirely to the enticing smell of its blood, and unfortunately, he hadn't yet calculated for the landing from such a high tree. The SkyClan apprentice met the ground with his left forepaw first, rolling it painfully inward and following suit with the rest of his bulk. The squirrel landed, lifeless, next to him. Spottedpaw sat up in a daze, entirely unaware that he'd launched himself into ThunderClan territory, several foxlengths from the border line. How embarrassing.

As much as he enjoyed the companionship of kin and clanmates, the muscular tom also found solace in the silence of the forest. The occasional chirping of a bird, rustling of leaves, scuffling of rodents... it was merely welcoming background noise. A cold breeze ruffled his medium-length, sandy tabby coat making him look even slightly larger than normal. The scars that marred his face seemed to be put on display as the fur of his cheek and maw was slicked back. There seemed to be a memory of stinging from the bitter cold. His green eyes closed shut for a moment and he sucked in a deep breath, allowing the icy wind to sting the back of his throat. It stuck there and he stopped. Whether it was akin to the dryness that had become a constant on his tongue since the sight of Birdflight or not, the memory of the sightless socket-sockets-flashed through his mind.

Despite the reassurance, the knowledge, that the former Shadowclan apprentice's injury was merely a small part in the duty he played as a warrior, it had quickly become something he could not shake. One of his clanmate's now bore the same horrific wound his own claws had caused. Beartooth saw firstpaw what he had caused, the extent of the damage he was capable of. One massive paw raised and his forest green eyes studied it intently. Never before had he considered how strange they looked in comparison to a normal paw, how peculiar, how grotesque. For one who rarely thought over things, he found himself plagued with thoughts of the former events and his part in all of them. There was a tightening in his chest. The warrior tried to swallow the lump of ice in his throat. He wanted to scratch at his face, his throat, to rid himself of the sensation. But before he could even twitch a muscle, something smacked the side of his face.

Instantly the smell of blood overwhelmed his senses. Squirrel was next. He blinked and finally put together the scene before him. A dead squirrel had fallen from the tree. Thump! Not seconds later the form of a cat thudded against the ground well within the confines of Thunderclan territory. Beartooth was not the best at scenting but immediately he picked up the smell of Skyclan. Immediately instincts kicked in and his fur bristled. Claws, already unsheathed from his examination moments earlier, Beartooth was ready to spring. He was on top of Spottedpaw without any hesitation and easily pinned him to the ground underneath the weight of his bulk. Blood thudded in his ears as the adrenaline began to pump through his veins and drive the fight that began to flood through him. The inherent need to protect kin and clan overwhelmed him as he snarled, "You're not welcome here, Skyclanner. There are enough trees in your own territory, squirrelheart."

Beartooth used Leap and Hold on Spottedpaw, dealing 8 damage and using 10 stamina. Spottedpaw is pinned for 1 turn.

Beartooth
HP: 40/40
SP: 120/120

Spottedpaw
HP: 12/20
SP: 80/80

The member 'Reindeer Ripped' has done the following action : Dices roll

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'Effect Dice' : 3

Spottedpaw's senses came back to him far too late. Suddenly, he was pinned by the biggest, most brutish cat he'd ever seen in his short life, with the oddest fangs and extra toes with claws to match. The small apprentice stared with his mouth hanging open, eyes open wide in a mixture of shock and fear. He didn't have a lot of time to waste, though, so when he finally regained his composure, he did his best to claw and kick at is opponent. It was unfortunate that this enemy was so heavy and muscular, though, because he couldn't get a single good hit in while he was struggling against the forest floor. 'I didn't know, I swear to StarClan that I didn't know! He screamed in his head, but the only sounds coming out of his mouth were grunts and gasps of effort.

Spottedpaw is no longer pinned.

Spottedpaw:
HP: 12/20
SP: 80/80

Beartooth:
HP: 40/40
SP: 110/120

The Thunderclan intruder flailed underneath him, claws tearing away at the soft fur of his underbelly. There was minimal damage done from the younger cat's position but the struggle was infuriating and eventually, Beartooth stepped away. There was more fight to be had but a different approach would be better than continuing what had been happening. Sunlight glinted off of the warrior's fangs as they were further revealed by the drawing back of his lips in a snarl. Without hesitating, he lashed back out with claws extended. The wild blow connected with Spottedpaw's ear, tearing through the soft cartilage with several sharpened claws. Blood immediately stained his claws and was flung across the apprentice's coat and the forest floor. It hung in shredded ribbons, a mere memory of an ear. Fur stuck to the warrior's claws, stuck by the precious blood that had been spilled.

At the sight of the carnage, Beartooth stopped for a moment. The memory of Aspenpaw, Birdflight, was fresh in his mind. It stopped him. And for once in battle, there was hesitation. He swallowed, the picture of Ridgepaw or Harepaw with their ears in shreds. This was the damage, the horror, caused by the tom's massive paws. Although he was not one for much thought, this had built up within him for moons. 'You're not worthy of being a Clan cat. Look at you! Seven claws and those stupid fangs.' For some reason, the edges of his memory had decided to dredge up the voice of Beepaw. His stance faltered. As the words bounced around in his conscious, the bulky tabby took a step back. He closed his eyes to steady himself as he took in a sharp breath of cold air. Where the vicious predator had once stood was now an unsteady mass of a cat. He still looked as fearsome as before but internally the tom was far from that. He was lost, confused, overwhelmed.

Finally, the bloodied paw slammed against the ground in a willful attempt to gather the recesses of his mind. Thoughts of his atrocities would wait until after the clan was defended. With another inhale, Beartooth forced steel into his eyes, "Get out! Now!" He rarely rose his voice or lost his temper. The adrenaline could pound through his veins and the tom would still be just as focused on his mission. But now as he struggled for control over the dark thoughts that had decided to surface at the most opportune time, his voice barely raised as he barked out the commands to the intruder. All he wanted was for this cat to be gone, back in Skyclan territory where he belonged. All he wanted was for the conflict within him to die away underneath the idea the images that haunted him were a mere part of being a warrior and not something that specifically had to do with what he was. Another look at Spottedpaw's ear caused the warrior's stomach to churn. This just needed to end.

Beartooth used Front Paw Strike on Spottedpaw, dealing 8 damage and using 10 stamina.

Beartooth
HP: 40/40
SP: 100/120

Spottedpaw
HP: 4/20
SP: 80/80

The spotted tabby rolled away as soon as he was able, mind completely in a panic and still processing what was happening. He only barely got to his paws when the large warrior lunged at him again, and Spottedpaw jerked back and shut his eyes instinctively. Searing hot pain shot through his ear and spread throughout his body, and he shrieked in pain and horror when he realized the wet sensation across his face and shoulder was his own blood. His wide, amber eyes stared up at his attacker as he crouched, tail tucked, and backed slowly away. What was wrong with this cat?! Even he seemed unnerved by his own actions. Spottedpaw flinched when the other tom snarled at him, and he quickly followed orders. He turned his back completely to Beartooth, shooting off towards SkyClan territory with a severe limp in his left forepaw. He was in intense pain, but his fear was greater.

The blood seemed to wash over his paws and coat the side of the apprentice's face. Breathing was quick but labored with adrenaline that seemed to roar through his veins. His massive paws stained the earth as he faced Spottedpaw with heaving sides. As the apprentice backed away, retreating into Skyclan territory, Beartooth slowly felt as the heat of battle wore off. His eyes once raging with fire, externally as hard and cold as slate, cooled into their usual dull, forest green. As the enemy cat fleed back to his own camp, undoubtedly seeking the aid of the medicine cat, drops of scarlet traced his trail. It struck a chord within him and he found his own step faltering as he backed away. An image of Birdflight was seared into his mind's eye and the blood that had dried around the empty socket. Following it was the memory of the Shadowclan cat.

He could picture the tearing of the flesh perfectly. His own awesome claws had once ripped through Aspenpaw's eyes. Although when it had happened, Beartooth had merely written it off as the defense of his clan. But his horrific claws, monstrous in their nature as Beepaw had once suggested, had torn apart another in such a grotesque manner. When his eyelid flickered shut for a split second, the warrior could picture his own claws sinking into Birdflight's flesh. There was a short gasp that left his maw involuntarily. It was true. The very thing that his adoptive brother had accused him of was true. All this time he had been ignorant to the creature he was. It seemed to hit him at once, rendering his paws weak and shaky. Beartooth fell to the ground. He could picture his claws shredding Hailpaw's ear, or even sweet Ridgepaw, as easily as they had the Skyclan apprentice. Never would he commit such an atrocity, right?

Beartooth gaze was glazed over as he stared down at his paws, finding for once in his lifetime a growing disgust. These things had caused the ruthless maiming of his clanmate. They had inflicted wounds he would not wish on his own clanmates. And he had never once considered that what Blizzardshine's son said could have been true. For so long he was under the belief that somehow he was living how he was supposed to, that this was all merely his duty. None of it had accomplished anything other than the vicious scarring of other cats and even come back to kin and clan. For the first time in his life, the bulky tom allowed himself to be overtaken by the torrent of emotions that welled up in his chest and threatened to rip him apart. Tears formed at the edge of his eyes as he stared at the mess of his claws with an overwhelming amount of disgust. Starclan was as cruel as he had begun to believe. It was them who had cursed him with such awful appendages.

His sides heaved with a weight that he had been unaware of for so long, one that suddenly seemed to knock the breath from his lungs and threatened to cause him to lose the grip on reality he had once seemed to hold so tight. Beartooth's goal had always been his duty to the clan, their protection, and for his kin. What was it worth if he could not manage that? What was it worth if he brought the very thing he fought to prevent? He couldn't fix what he had done. The past was unchangeable. Digging his claws into the earth, the Thunderclan warrior fought to contrive some way of relieving the pain that had built up within. Birdflight had taken the blow meant for him. One paw raised, several claws glinting in the faint light and without hesitation, his pressed them to the fur just under his ear. His retribution would finally come, for the pain he caused. With a low hiss, he dragged his claws across the tabby fur. The pressure was only relieved just over where the thin flesh of his eyelid covered his eye.

Even if he had managed to fail in the past, what would he be in the future without his sight? How could he make up for what he had done? Blood began to pour down his maw as a fire burned underneath his skin. Several moments passed the crimson drying in a crust on his fur. Although he couldn't see his own reflection, Beartooth was able to come to the knowledge that he now bore the same scars that Aspenpaw had died with. His own horrible, several clawed marks. It seemed to quell something within him but a wound much deeper had been ripped apart internally. Swallowing the dryness in his throat, the warrior hauled his mass back onto all four paws. Numbness seemed to sweep through his chest and his paws were heavy as the boulders that comprised Sunningrocks. Each pawstep was laboriously slow. The medicine cat's den was the next stop. And there he would face Pricklepaw.