Bloodspirits [C/SoloKinda]

Bloodstrike froze at the edge of the thunderpath... and on the other side of it... so did Darkspirit. It had been a long time since they last saw eachother. The last time Darkspirit had seen his grandfather, he had watched him die. There was silence for quite some time, an unspoken conversation passing between the two: "I have things to say, but I don't know what." Hunter green eyes held the gaze of a fiery blue and molten gold mismatched ones. The sun was setting, casting the world in the frigid pink of leaf-bare's last light. Slowly, finally, Darkspirit sat. Once he had, Bloodstrike followed suit. The older tom was quite a bit larger, but Darkspirit still had his firm, youthful muscle mass whereas Bloodstrike had noticeably shrunk.

"Well... you're alive after all." Darkspirit finally broke the silence, drawing a slow, stoic nod from his grandfather.

"As are you." Bloodstrike replied simply. When the silence passed between them again, it was far more tense than it was awkward. Birds began to sing their songs of the night, but neither cat heard a thing. Nothing else existed... only the other cat.

"I know you're not Bloodstar any longer. So what are you now?"

"Bloodstrike." The older tom replied shortly again. "I don't imagine you're still Darkpaw. At least I hope not. You're my descendant after all. You should be doing well."

"Darkspirit." The younger tom barely suppressed a growl. He hated his name. So much. "Courtesy of Stoatstar, to eternally remind me of who my father was. I don't know why. I held no loyalty to the Dark Forest or Morningstar. I hated them both." His tail twitched in irritation at the memories and his claws gouged the earth beneath him. A silence followed once more. A monster came rumbling down the thunderpath and passed between both cats in a rush of wind. Neither Bloodstrike nor Darkspirit moved. They sat and stared at each other with an almost identically stoic expression. The resemblance was uncanny.

"I also hated my leader as a new warrior. I hated him because he was distant and useless, yet still claimed to be doing exactly what the clan needed. He was too stubborn to step down despite tragedy after tragedy and a continuous display of poor leadership. One day he did us all a favor and threw himself off of the gorge." Bloodstrike's gaze dropped to Darkspirit's paws for just a moment as he considered what else to tell his grandson. "I went after him the instant my father became Wolfstar. I wanted to make absolutely sure that he was dead. If I found him, knowing he had only one life, I would have buried my teeth so deep into his throat all of my ancestors in Starclan would bleed as a result. I knew I'd need help though, as I didn't have the experience needed to fight a former leader efficiently... so I brought Dawnhawk with me." A silence passed again, and Darkspirit's eyes narrowed. He'd known his father's clan given name was Dawnhawk, but Morningstar was the name he'd given himself after he lead the Dark Forest's invasion of the clans. He sensed that the old tom had more to say, so he stayed quiet to listen.

"I knew even back then, as young as Dawnhawk was, that he had a darkness in him. An anger. He would help me kill Spottedstar... Spottedleap, without question. He was willing to go... but he did make me see sense before we got very far at all. He told me that betraying my new leader by going after the old was a poor way to begin my career as deputy of Skyclan. He was right. After I thought for a moment I called off my search and we went back home." Bloodstrike's eyes met Darkspirit's gaze once more. "Your father had so much potential. He was cunning, resourceful and absolutely relentless to achieve his goals. But in the end.... he made his choices. Instead of waiting for the opportunity to be named the next deputy, he betrayed us. He brought the Asylum and took the title of deputy by sheer force. I suppose you know the rest."

"I know a lot. He was well known, but not for any kindness or good deeds. To hear anyone compliment him or have anything good to say about him... I don't think I've heard such a thing in my entire life." Darkspirit's eyes were hard and unblinking. If there had been any good in Dawnhawk, he never wanted to know. The evil tom was gone and all hope of redemption went with him straight to the Darkness where he belonged. Another silence. Another moment of staring. Finally Bloodstrike spoke again.

"He had talent, as I said. I don't know what hurts worse; The fact that he wasted his potential due to selfishness or that he took everything from me when he finally went down, including my ability to lead my clan. He left wounds in this forest, Skyclan especially, that are so deep it will be felt for many more generations to come."

"I know you probably have a lot to get off of your chest, but I'm not interested in stories about my father. I didn't know him well beyond being the fox-heart that he was, and I don't care to know more. I hate him. I want it to stay that way. He's gone. I want to know more about you. What made you think fighting a Dark Forest cat was wise?"

"It wasn't. But fighting is all I know. I've tasted sweet victory and I've swallowed bitter defeat, but I have never experienced surrender. I challenge you to find one other cat in this entire forest, that has lived as long as I have, and can still say that." There wasn't a single one of them. All of the cats as old as he was had submitted to either the Asylum, the Dark Forest, or both. Bloodstrike had not. Darkspirit eyed him calmly before speaking again.

"I've heard that you yourself are a bit of a monster. Do you think you passed on your anger and desire for victory at any cost onto Dawnhawk? Do you believe that the pain this forest has experienced isn't any of your fault?"

"I don't care about the forest. I care about Skyclan. I don't take responsibility for any of Dawnhawk's actions regardless. You may believe whatever you like." Bloodstrike and Darkspirit rose to their feet. Another monster flew between them and buffeted both of them with frigid winds. The sun was dropping lower, almost putting the land in blackness now.

"You already told me you were going to kill Spottedleap if you found him, and for what crime? For not living up to your standards as leader?" Darkspirit's gaze was icy, but his tone was still eerily calm.

"For being a threat to my clan. If he would have come back, I was afraid my father would have given leadership back. Wolfstar loved Spottedleap, as he was his father, but love makes us blind sometimes. We were finally free from his incompetence and I wasn't going to risk letting my clan slip back into that trap." Bloodstrike wasn't as stupid as his grandson thought. He could practically smell what was coming next. Darkspirit was so much like he was at one point in time: Idealistic, stupid, and angry. Darkspirit allowed a moment of silence to pass between them again.

Then he unsheathed his claws.

"You are no different than another cat I know, one in my own clan even. He was a sympathizer for the Dark Forest. I have never told anyone until today. But it doesn't matter. I may not be ready to fight him, but I am willing to bet I could put an older warrior like you out of your misery." Darkspirit didn't know what he expected, but Bloodstrike laughed. It was a soft laugh, one that hinted more at contempt than amusement.

"Me, you and Dawnhawk make quite the trio. We all have our own ideas of justice and we are willing to kill to uphold it. So be it then, Darkspirit. Let's fight, if you insist. Cross that thunderpath and find out why that even your murderous, war-mongering father waited until he had an army to challenge me the first time, and that he had to be a Dark Forest abomination to do it the second time." Bloodstrike dropped into a fighting stance and narrowed his eyes, giving his face a haunting, undead-like appearance.

Darkspirit wasn't deterred. He'd seen true undead and listened to the howls of the condemned as his lullabies. An old, raggedy cat was nothing. The duo-colored tom charged across the thunderpath. Bloodstrike and Darkspirit collided with a thud, and the two toms became a whirlwind of claws and teeth; Of flesh and fur. Both toms struck eachother with powerful blows, the sounds echoing off of the trees around them. Over and over one another they tumbled. Bloodstrike would be on top, then Darkspirit, then Bloodstrike again. Everywhere their bodies went left a trail of blood.

The strength of the young tom didn't surprise Bloodstrike in the least, having fought a Thunderclan cat a time or two before. Darkspirit on the other hand, never suspected such an old tom still had as much strength as this one had. He didn't expect to struggle as much as he was. Teeth were plunged deep into the back of the younger tom's neck and he was forced to the ground as he howled in pain and fury. He pushed back against Bloodstrike, trying to force the older tom off of him. But he was fighting against the old tom's weight as well as his strength. It was all he could do to stay on his feet, let alone try to swipe with his claws. The two of them struggled, with Bloodstrike knowing his stamina was limited in his old age. He tried to maneuver himself to be side by side with Darkspirit, but the young cat moved with him, albeit in shaky shuffles.

He moves well... his footwork is good. Bloodstrike couldn't help but feel... proud. Still, he had to do something quick or Darkspirit's stamina was going to overwhelm his own. He began to rock the younger tom back and forth to unbalance him. Darkspirit continued to move with him... until Bloodstrike pushed forward on his strong, Skyclanner's hind legs. That was it.

He unbalanced Darkspirit and had him pinned to the forest floor. Swiftly, Bloodstrike's giant forepaw was on Darkspirit's stomach, threatening to rip it open. Darkspirit's hind legs went to Bloodstrike's forelimb and buried the claws deep, but the old man didn't even flinch as blood leaked freely from the wounds. Actually... none of the old tom's wounds seemed to bother him. It was almost like he couldn't feel them.

Unexpectedly, Bloodstrike released Darkspirit and backpedaled away. The younger tom flipped to his feet, panting just as hard as his much older foe was. Bloodstrike was smiling at him.

"I could have killed you. You fought well, but I would have gutted you and left you for crowfood." Bloodstrike said through huffs and puffs. Darkspirit just stared, confused. He was tired, far more tired than he cared to admit. He'd underestimated his grandfather... just like he'd underestimated Starlingflare. Was he really too overconfident? What was he missing? Regardless, he wasn't sure that he wanted to continue. Bloodstrike was right... he could have killed him. Why hadn't he?

"I don't get it... why let go?" Darkspirit asked, hoping to buy some time if he kept Bloodstrike talking.

"I'm not the monster you think I am. I'm certainly not the monster your father was. Go home Darkspirit. Maybe once my arthritis is so bad my forelimbs no longer function you'll stand a chance." Bloodstrike laughed again, though Darkspirit detected no malice. He didn't understand. He hesitated... then winced. Now that his adrenaline was starting to wear off, the wounds all over his body were on fire. He watched Bloodstrike and searched him for any sort of pain whatsoever.

The old man never faltered. Not once.

What in the Star's name are you? The old tom was covered in scratches and bites and was bleeding just as much as Darkspirit was, but it didn't seem to matter. Bloodstrike could tell by the look on his face what he was thinking, but he wasn't about to tell the youth anything. Bloodstrike had become accustomed to pain long ago when he was a captive of the Asylum, and even further when he had to withdraw off of poppy seeds for an entire new-leaf. He could feel pain, but it was nothing new to him. He could handle it.

"I'll be back for you one day. Unless you're about to tell your leader what happened here. I don't actually want to start a clan war, this is between you and me only."

"Oh agreed. I have no interest in tattling to Birdstar. Just us then. It was a border skirmish and nothing more. Right?" Bloodstrike even gave him a wink. Darkspirit didn't return it.

"... Right." He agreed, just before he turned around to limp home. Normal cats would have said goodbye maybe, or had something to say over their shoulder. Darkspirit however, did not. Bloodstrike turned away as well, neither limping nor grunting like his grandson. He was content to go home, get treated, and not tell anyone the truth of anything this night.