Battered Wings [copper]

Quillpaw had somewhat began to understand what was going on around him. There was a she-cat who took care of him, someone by the name of Swiftheart that the other shadows constantly referred to as his "mother". Which wasn't true, but these cats didn't seem to care about what he said. And so the new mother was forced upon him, along with a sister called Crowspirit who's wheezes drove Quillpaw mad whenever he could hear it. The sickness that clung to his clanmates made his own fur feeling sticky and gross, and he had attempted to get that awful feeling off his fur before, even going as far as to rip out shreds of fur to get the awful goo away, but it never worked.

Crowspirit was saying something, though it didn't register in his woozy mind. All he could hear was the awful, awful wheezing noise that grated his ears like claws, slowly dragging through his very flesh in an annoying rhythm. In, out. In, out. Quillpaw could feel his chest rising faster with each new breath as he struggled to calm down his heart. Blood rushed through his ears, turning his mind to mush as he starred at his paws. What was Crowspirit saying? He had no idea. All he could hear was those wheezes-

"Stop it," Quillpaw managed to reply at last, amber eyes flickering wildly over his paws.

It didn't stop. Why didn't she stop it? Quillpaw shook his head as if to make the wheezing noise stop grating his ears like rocks running over sand. Crowspirit was saying something again, but it only made him want to score the warrior's face. Stop it! He wanted to scream, let his boiling rage erupt from his chest and into the she-cat's face. Stars, it hurt. His chest felt like it was on fire, burning a hole right through his fur.

Then she attacked him.

Quillpaw tumbled back, the ground finding him before his paws could. The air was knocked out of him, leaving him motionless on the half-frozen marshland. What had just happened? She couldn't have- but she did. She did, and now that he looked up to those eager, piercing yellow eyes, he knew that it was intentional. Was this why she had led him out here? Was she following Sablestrike's orders? He knew that the deputy would come for him, but he never expected that he would ask someone else do it. So Crowspirit had decided to kill him? Quillpaw scrambled to his paws, chest heaving with breaths as terrified amber eyes darted over his soon-to-be killer.

He couldn't die here! He still had to find his mother, and his littermates. He took a step back, but the she-cat continued to approach him, and in an attempt to fend her off his claws lashed out blindly. He could feel the familiar rip of skin under his claws, and distantly he heard an ugly cry. It took him a while to realize it belonged to him.

Quillpaw used Front Paw Strike and Desperate Blows, dealing 6(+4)dmg and -14SP

Crowspirit
35/50 HP (-10)
83/120 SP

Quillpaw
7/20 HP
16/60 SP (-14)

Quillpaw relented his attacks once the blows no longer came to him. Crowspirit was backing off, thankfully. But she was also crying, and her fur- wait, he could see her fur! The apprentice watched, stunned, as the shadow viel seemed to lift off the she-cat, onyl to reveal blood-stained fur and- and-! Quillpaw screwed his eyes shut, crouching down and covering his ears as the mournful cries echoed all around him. Stop it, please! The screams were worse than the wheezes. I take it back! Something was nagging at him, amongst all the cries, that he had heard someone cry like this before. He had seen how blood could blossom over fur like a dark crimson river, trickling down a cat's chest and drip oh so slowly onto the ground until there was a puddle that would creep up to him, ever so slowly, until his paws too were soaked in blood and all that he could smell was the unforgivable stench of death and blood, and all he could hear was sobs and cries until the dreaded silence that would follow where only the trickle of blood could be heard and when the blood no longer flowed with life-

Quillpaw gasped for breath, as if he was breaking out of the surface of water. As if he was drowning. No, no, no, Crowspirit wasn't, she couldn't be- but when he saw her, eyes ruined beyond repair and face screwed up in agony, he knew that it was so much worse than death. He was rooted to the spot, doomed to watch it all over again. The tears that mixed with blood... he looked away, closed his eyes as if that would stop this from becoming reality. What had he done? He didn't- this wasn't his fault! He should take her back, take her to see the medicine cat, they would know what to do, but-

Stars, he was scared. What would they say to him? As much as he despised the Clan, and as much as he knew some members were planning to kill him, he couldn''t survive without them. He was sick, and they had the medicine. He didn't want to die. He wasn't selfless, he couldn't think for others. He could only think for himself, and that meant...

"I'm so sorry," He choked out as he leaned down. I'm saving her from spending the rest of her life in misery. This is a mercy kill. I'm helping her. I'm the good guy. As long as he kept repeating those words to himself, it would be alright. It had to be alright. His teeth closed around her throat, closing down even when she kicked and screamed. Her claws scored his body, leaving behind claw marks that he wished were deeper and more painful. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry. He didn't want to do this!

At last, Crowspirit's body fell limp, and he let go. He was shaking. Quillpaw took in a deep breath, choking on the bloody stench that suffocated him. He had to get rid of the body. His paws slipped on the bloody ground when he tried to move, and he bit back a cry of desperation when he saw the blood-stained snow. How was he going to fix this? They would know Crowspirit was killed- should he come clean? Or lie and say a rouge attacked them? Quillpaw starred at the body, still warm with life, and felt a bitter tang in his mouth. He had killed someone. That thought didn't quite register with him yet. What to do...

He was bloody and wounded. She was wounded and dead. What were the chances that they had been attacked by a rouge? Quillpaw starred at the lifeless corpse blankly, then finally moved forward once more to tease open her claws. He drew out the tufts of fur that she had clawed out from him, then gripped her scruff and began dragging the body towards camp. A rouge group had attacked them, that's all. Sablestrike would be so disappointed that his murder attempt had failed.

And as he walked, the viel of shadows descended upon Crowspirit's body once more.

Quillpaw used Killing Strike.