Bane of the Pure OR Miststar's Journey

[Cloudbat]

Bane of the Pure
PROLOGUE

It began with a dream.

A dream where once more she sat in the beautiful glade of her ancestors, lit by their holy light. She bowed her head in obeisance, relishing their presence. “You have news to share with me, StarClan?” She asked respectfully.

“Indeed we do. You remember, of course, that we could only give you one of your extra lives, because that was the only one Owlstar had lost?”

The FogClan leader hissed under her breath. Of course she remembered how that impure excuse for a leader had robbed her of her rightful inheritance.

“Yes. What of it?” She asked warily. What did they mean by that?

“Would you not like a chance to earn the rest of them for yourself?”

“What do you mean?” The ivory FogClanner asked shakily. How on earth could she do that? Was there some sort of test she had to pass?

“You would have to leave your Clan – it would take moons, perhaps even seasons. But it would be a way to prove once and for all that you are the rightful leader of FogClan.”

What? Of course she was the rightful leader of FogClan. And what were they driving at? Just because she’d been robbed of her lives didn’t mean she wasn’t fully capable of turning this sin-drenched Clan into a shining community of purity.

“What is it that you are proposing?” She asked, trying to keep her tone respectful. “You must hunt down Owlstar and her rebels and kill her seven times, so that we may give you the lives that are rightfully yours. That is the only way.”

Miststar’s blue-green eyes widened as her fur bushed up along her spine. It was ridiculous. How on earth could she leave FogClan? This was her home, her kingdom. She had such plans for it.

Yet…perhaps StarClan were right. Who was she to doubt them? It was by their grace that FogClan was hers anyway. Should she not bow to their wisdom? Besides…Volepelt was a fine deputy. She had complete faith in him to run the Clan while she was away. She need not even fully explain the purpose of her journey –simply say StarClan had called her away.

Which was nothing less than the truth, after all.

Then, she would return with seven extra lives. The twisted she-cat smiled. It was a reward worth the risks.

“Yes.” She said, bowing her head once again. “I have considered your proposal and I agree. I thank you for blessing me with your wisdom once more. But how am I to find Owlstar? I have no idea where she is.”

“Go east, far to the east of your territory, to the MoonGlade and beyond, into the mountains. There you will find what you seek. Good luck, Miststar.” The unknown spirit that had been speaking came forward and licked her head, then turned and vanished into the trees.

It rejoined the rest of StarClan, who silently watched it, waiting for it to speak. “She agreed.” It said, somewhat cautiously, but with its head up, and eyes certain despite the slight trembling in its meow. “Good.” Murmured one of the spirits in the crowd. “Very good. At last, our true will shall be done.”

Unknowing of this, Miststar awoke.

The First Life: Perseverance

“But why?” spoke the dusty brown tabby tom in front of her. It was not even in a curious tone of voice – just flat, unemotional. “You need not know why, dear Volepelt. I trust you to take care of FogClan in my absence. I will return.” She hoped her imperious tone of voice would be enough to dissuade him from querying further. It was. He modestly cast his gaze to one side, tail twitching. “Then I shall trust to the powers of our ancestors to keep you safe.” “Good. StarClan bless you in my time away.”

With that, she turned, without any hesitation, and left him, pausing only to eat a cardinal from the fresh-kill pile.

With that, her journey truly began.

---

After much consideration, she had realized the best route, if the slowest, would be to go south, and circle around StreamClan territory to get to the mountains. It may have been easier to simply go through the marshy territory, saying she was traveling to the MoonGlade, but she did not want to risk it. This route might be slow, but it was the surest guarantee of secrecy.

It was a fine day, a good sign. The sun permeated even the fog that shrouded her land. Miststar liked the fog; it was cool, how she imagined purity would be if it were something tangible. And that, she mused to herself, is the problem. Sinners do not understand the breadth of their crimes because they cannot see the darkness welling in their souls, the brightness that would come if they let it.

No matter. They would all see it, in time. When she had life enough to cleanse all the sinners in every Clan.

---

A quarter moon later brought her to the base of the mountains themselves.

And to the foolish tom who wandered there. Willowpaw. A trembling, stuttering idiot who had left with that black and white traitor that she tracked and pinned without mercy.

“Tell me where Owlstar is.” She hissed, her paws pressing into his chest. “Tell me!” “I-I-I d-don’t K-KNOW!” He cried, twisting under the claws sinking through his gray fur, his ears laid flat and green eyes wild. “Of course you do! You left with her!” “I-I-I g-got l-l-l-lost! I-I’m on my OWN! P-p-please! L-l-let me go! I d-d-don’t know anything!” “LIAR!” “N-n-NO! PLEASE!” His voice rose to a wail. Miststar, wild with rage, pressed down further, her claws sinking into his flesh.

How easy it would be to end his worthless life.

But no. Taking his life would be pointless. It was Owlstar alone that she would murder, to save her soul from as little corruption as possible. She might be near-perfect, but killing was still killing.

“Fine.” She said callously, releasing her grip. “I’ll let you go. But bear in mind – should I see your wretched hide again, I’ll send you away with some real wounds to think about.” Willowpaw, shuddering, leapt up and dashed away over the grass faster than a rabbit.

Not only was he a traitor to StarClan, he was a traitor to the true way of life. He was meaningless and blind, so she would have nothing more to do with him.

---

She pondered how best to get at Owlstar. She remembered who had deserted FogClan besides Willowpaw. Sootpaw. Cinderpaw. Hailstorm. Blackpaw. The three apprentices would be easy enough to disable….but Hailstorm was a strong, experienced tom.

Even more so, how to whittle down her lives without raising suspicion? It would be too difficult to rid her of all of them at once…even if she could separate Owlstar from her precious minions.

Slowly, plans began to form as she drew ever closer to her hated foe.

---

Finally, she saw her, as she peered through a rare bush in the stark, craggy cliffs of stone. Her enemy. The one cat who, alongside Gingerstar (the living personification of sin herself), was the single greatest threat to her power.

Now, to lure her away from her faithful flock.

---

After only two days’ worth of spying, it was easy to see what their biggest weakness was. Food. There was precious little of it in these forbidding rock behemoths, with their lack of undergrowth and cold, cold nights. Even she was finding it difficult to sustain herself, and she was an accomplished hunter. She felt smug satisfaction that Owlstar would be finding it even more challenging.

Surely they must regret it by now. But perhaps not one of them has had the dignity to admit their sins. Poor young minds, blinded by their warped loyalty. I shall lead them into a new era where they will be under a leader who shall provide for their souls and their bodies.

---

Sootpaw was out hunting. Again. For as many times as a cat could hunt in these boring peaks, scratching his paws to the bone, without going crazy. Then again, he reminded himself grimly, it sure beats the crazy back home. If that even counts as home anymore.

Still, home here wasn’t a delicious prospect either, in either sense of the word. The lanky gray tom duly sniffed the air, tasted it, and flicked his ears. Not so much as a mouse bone. Typical.

What managed not to die of cold got taken by the ever-watchful birds of prey that seemed endless around here.

He padded on a few more lengths, more out of habit than anything. He sniffed wearily once again….and his whole body perked up. Was that…was that prey he smelled? Then his heart sank. If it was, it was probably some fox’s or raptor’s dinner. He sniffed once more, harder this time, mouth open. No! It was an honest-to-StarClan bird that didn’t even smell of any predators!

If he’d been in any more of a clear state of mind, the gray apprentice might have held back, might have questioned such an easy chance at food. But so overjoyed he was that he simply padded forward, enthusiasm renewed, to find a dead robin that seemed like a gift from StarClan.

He was so weary he didn’t even notice the careful feathers arranged to cover the slit made along its stomach, did not smell the faint but unmistakable whiff of the fruits known to the Clans as deathberries.

---

Miststar smiled. It had worked perfectly. It was a pain to give up food that could have easily kept her going for more than a day, but it was worth it. Silently, her scent carefully masked by having rolled in mint leaves, she crept along after him, keeping to the shadows cast by the boulders and tall, sparse pine fir trees.

---

Owlstar was puzzled but overjoyed when Sootpaw brought back the robin, happier than she’d seen him in almost a moon. “Let everyone else take a bite of it first, I insist.” Despite her noble words, the stocky she-cat’s stomach growled loudly.

Cinderpaw broke out in giggles as Blackpaw tried to hide a smile. “No.” Sootpaw insisted. “You have half. We’ll split the rest.”

“If you insist.” Owlstar hide, attempting not to laugh herself. Carefully stripping off the feathers, she lowered her mouth to the bird’s chest to eat, relishing the bland but wonderful meat. Actually, not quite as bland as a regular robin…smelled slightly unusual too – but by the time even the faintest suspicions had occurred to her, she was already choking, trying to hack up the meat she’d swallowed while the others gasped, trying to hold her down as she thrashed.

But there was nothing they could do; she died.

Thus Miststar took the first life for her own.

[Cloudbat]

The Second Life: Strategy

The first death had made them more cautious; it was to be expected. This time, she might have to kill one of the others to get through Owlstar; she was almost constantly guarded now, after they’d examined the bird and found the deathberries inside it. Miststar knew they weren’t sure if it was deliberate or not, but they took no chances.

Neither would she.

---

Her second plan required even more of a sacrifice; disguising herself with fox dung. It was revolting, but it would serve its purpose. It was several days later now; their guard dropped slightly, believing it to have been an accident. After all, you still have six lives left, don’t you? She sneered mentally at Owlstar. Lives that belong to me.

That number, by the end of today, would drop to five.

Again, it required bait; luckily, this time only a trail of feathers, not the prey itself (stolen from their fresh-kill pile as they all went to asleep, even Cinderpaw who was supposed to be on guard.)

Concealed on a branch above a briar thicket she waited for Owlstar to pick up her trail – the trail started right outside her den, slightly apart from the others. As expected, her foe was first to wake and find it – dutiful, gullible Owlstar. Checking the skies as even Miststar did now (you never knew when a winged killer would attempt to strike) she cautiously stepped forward, tail flicking.

Take it, take it, prayed the insane she-cat silently.

Owlstar did; her gaze flicking to the fresh-kill pile, she let out a soft growl and began to pad forward, sniffing the ground. Doubtless she thought a fox was the culprit. She needn’t have worried; the dung Miststar had found was old; the fox had probably only been passing through.

Breath held, she watched as her foe clambered down the rocky shelf, into the brush at the bottom…right toward the briar she hid above. As she tried to get her large bulk in it, Miststar dropped from above, not even giving her time to shriek a warning before delivering a killing bite.

Thus Miststar took the second life for her own.

[Cloudbat]

The Third Life: Loyalty

This time, not only were they frightened, they were puzzled; how had they never noticed a fox in the area before? And all of them, especially Hailstorm, insisted on never letting her go out by herself again.

So Miststar resigned herself to killing the others, as well. It was a price worth paying. She could feel the promise of power when she received all the lives; for StarClan had told her in a new dream that it was best to do it all at once; she agreed with their wisdom. One extra life had hurt enough; she couldn’t imagine dragging the process out.

Stilll, it would be sweet.

---

“Everyone, I’ve decided it’s no longer safe for us to remain here.” The rebels nodded their unanimous agreement. “I appreciate the fact that none of you have deserted me; this will be your reward. I had thought that the edge of the mountains would be safest, but it appears they are not. Therefore, we shall travel to the ranch and stay there for a while.” Cinderpaw was excited. Blackpaw cooly raised an eyebrow; Sootpaw tensed. Hailstorm frowned, opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end merely shrugged.

Miststar grinned.

Two down. Five to go. It would be wonderful to leave these wretched peaks.

---

Almost half a moon later, and it was a sorry state of affairs. The group was so tight-knit and vigilant now that it was impossible to get close, and since it was almost greenleaf now there was plenty of prey.

Miststar could have screamed in frustration.

Her former ingenuity had deserted her; plus, she could no longer use their lack of food against them. Worse yet, they were almost to the ranch – while they might not necessarily be accepted there, it would still be much harder to conceal herself with so many other cats to notice her…or would it?

Wasn’t the best place to hide a leaf in a forest?

---

Her disguise was by no means foolproof, but it would work for the short time she’d be around the ranch – just one rogue among many as she and so many others watched the new, wary arrivals.

Her distinctive pelt was obscured by a layer of grime; her posture, proud and imperious, was now a casual slouch. Her own parents wouldn’t have recognized her. But thinking of them brought long-gone sorrow, and she brushed it away.

The one it would be impossible to hide were her eyes – but she would simply look down a lot, and pretend she was shy. Just another straggler passing through.

But this time, she needed another method. They were wise to the lead-off trick, and deathberries (if she could even find any) would also cause suspicion. Argh. Trying to calm herself, she tried to think of Owlstar as just another fat, stupid mouse to catch. A mouse that could think and fight back. A badger, then. It suited her colors.

But even badgers surely have families, she mused to herself. Friends, too. Wouldn’t they risk their lives for them? Indeed. So this time, her bait had to be one of the apprentices. Cinderpaw would be best; she was gullible and the youngest of all of them. Cinderpaw…she had been Miststar’s own apprentice, once. Strange, she’d almost forgotten.

She felt a slight pang at using a cat who had once been under her care as part of a trap, but squashed the concern. This is for the greater good, she told herself firmly. There is no room for weakness. Besides, if this works, only Owlstar need die. Though she’d accepted that she might have to kill some of the other rebels, she was still reluctant. True, they were traitors, but they were still FogClan. Still part of StarClan’s trust to her. They might yet see the light.

Willowpaw had been an exception; he was not only a traitor to her but to Clan life. He was meaningless.

Oh get on with it, she chided herself. Owlstar won’t die while you skulk among hay bales and ponder.

So she acted.

---

Miststar, acting her part as shy but friendly rogue, “accidentally” ran into Cinderpaw while she was hunting around the barn. “Oh, sorry…I didn’t see you there.”[/b The adult she-cat was careful to keep her voice soft. “It’s fine!” chirped the fluffy gray tabby. “Wanna hunt with me?” She asked, her face lighting up. “I could use some company, and it gets old when eeeeeveryone else is a tom except y’know, my leader.” Miststar smiled at the little cat; it was genuine. Such innocence. Most apprentices weren’t worth the dirt on their claws. But Cinderpaw had been special.

“Of course, young one. But won’t your…um..leader be worried about you?” She said, feigning innocence. “Naw, not now that we’re out of those crummy mountains. Yuck! Everyone seems pretty nice here. ‘Sides, I’m old enough to take care of myself.” Miststar stifled a laugh; she was barely nine moons. “Well, then, I suppose it’s all right. I know an excellent place for water voles.” “Ooh, those are tasty! I used to catch them by the river all the time before…well…” Cinderpaw shuffled and looked away. “N’mind. Sorry. Let’s go.”

The leader, again trying to quash the pang of misgiving, took her to the ‘hunting spot.’

---

It was nothing but a small vernal pond that she’d come across during the journey before; though she would admit it was only luck that it was here again. It wasn’t far from the barn –close enough for yowls of help to be heard, she thought guiltily.

Sootpaw, Blackpaw, even Hailstorm she’d have much less trouble leading to their possible deaths. But Cinderpaw…this had been a mistake. StarClan, forgive me, she prayed.

“Wow! Nice place you got here. I never would have found this.” Bounding up to it, Cinderpaw sniffed around its edges. The pool was barely deep enough to submerge a full-grown cat in. Though deep enough for her purposes.

Cinderpaw, already happily hunting, didn’t notice her ‘companion’ silently coming up behind her. “Surprise!” said Miststar as she shoved Cinderpaw in the water. The young FogClanner only giggled.

“Hey, stop that! I – wait, I can’t get up. Seriously. I can’t get up.”

Cinderpaw sounded puzzled, and Miststar knew why – the pond, though beautiful, possessed mud so slimy it was practically impossible to get out of; she’d discovered it by seeing a deer wade in its water at this time of year, to cool off. The poor animal had struggled for nearly an hour to get free. It would be far more difficult for one weak apprentice.

“Oh St – I mean oh my gosh. I had no idea that that would happen, I’m so sorry. Do you want me to fetch your…leader? Could she help?” Miststar feigned concern, her tail twitching and her ears laid back in her act.

“Yeah…her name’s Owlstar, she’s a big black and white cat. Tell her I’m – that Cinderpaw’s in trouble. She’ll come. Shouldn’t be hard to find her – we’re new. Hurry.” The little she-cat shuddered, her spine fur bristling from the cold sliminess of the muck.

Bowing her head, Miststar did as the apprentice bid.

---

“What?! How could you lead one of my apprentices into a trap?” Owlstar was almost irrationally angry, leaning forward to glare into Miststar’s eyes.

But she was equal to it; she merely cowered, tail between her legs, and looked away, whiskers drooping. “I-I’m sorry. I really didn’t know! Please, I’ll never bother you again. Just get Cinderpaw out.” “I don’t need an invitation from you, rogue. Take me to her, now.” ordered the large FogClanner, her pelt bristling and yellow eyes seeming to pierce the very air.

So off they went.

---

Owlstar and Hailstorm went together; it was unfortunate, but luckily she’d planned for it. Two plans, actually, though she’d prefer not to use the second one as it meant they might figure out who she was.

As she led them there, still playing the part of the quivering rogue, her mind raced. They might ask her to help get Cinderpaw out…what would she do then? She could “accidentally” push Hailstorm in as well…but then the game would be up. Or I could take a chance and strip all the rest her lives from her at once, Miststar mused as they ran over the grass to the pond.

It was tempting. Yet a little voice in the back of her mind whispered it would be too dangerous.

Hmm. Back to Plan A it was.

---

Seconds later, panting, the trio arrived. The birdsong in the nearby trees was sweet, but disturbed by the whimpers of Cinderpaw as she struggled; she’d only managed to raise one leg up partially. Owlstar, with a look like thunder, marched over to her, gray-pelted Hailstorm by her side, and bent over as far she dared to grab the apprentice’s scruff.

Hailstorm, anxious to aid as well, cast around for a stick, found one, and gripped it in his powerful jaws. Turning back to the pond, he began poking around Cinderpaw’s feet, trying to loosen the mud.

They had completely forgotten about the “rogue” who had taken them here. Which suited her purposes perfectly.

Silently, she slunk into the bushes around the edges of the far side of the pond, half a tree-length away from the trio. Amusingly enough, she happened to trod on a water vole before it squeaked and dove into a burrow. She chuckled mentally at the irony before continuing her careful, roundabout path toward her true prey.

When she was close enough not to raise suspicion, but far enough away for her ruse to be plausible, the ivory FogClanner began shrieking as if an animal were attacking her, and she swiped at the bushes, flailing, imitating the noises of a fight.

“Help! Please! Somebody! Anybody! HE-” She then cut her cry off, as it had been smothered, then crept behind a rock, still continuing to make the noises.

---

Owlstar and her warrior had finished freeing the tabby’s partially uncovered leg and were working on the second when they heard the plea for help from the unknown rogue.

“After all this unnecessary work she put us through, intentionally or not, I’m not very inclined to help her out.” growled the leader. “Owlstar, I understand. But she did come and tell us at once. I believe she meant no harm. I don’t like her or know her either, but if we lose our sense of honor, then who are we?”

Owlstar hesitated, then relented. “Fine. Go stop whatever it is, then come back. I don’t care if she’s injured, that’s all we owe her.”

Hailstorm dipped his head quickly in assent and dashed into the brush.

---

Hailstorm met no enemy except the deadly gashes in his throat as he gargled, twitching, unable to breathe. When the light in his eyes died, Miststar removed her claws and primly began washing them with casual efficiency. Yet despite her cool demeanor, she felt guilt. Still, no time for it now. The time for reflection and self-doubt was later.

Stepping lightly but quickly, she stepped out, remaining as inconspicuous as possible as she made her way toward Owlstar. Luckily, her foe was too absorbed in trying to free her follower that she barely looked up. When she remembered her warrior, Miststar was right behind her, about to kill.

“Hailstorm?” She called. “Hailsto….” Then she smelled the rogue and her ears flattened as she spun around, furious. “You! What happened to Hail…wait. Your eyes. I know those eyes.” She muttered as the cool gaze of her former deputy made eye contact with her at last.

Miststar could not resist a crack as, ducking, she swiftly swiped at Owlstar’s legs, unbalancing her and forcing her to the ground.

“All the better to see you with, my dear.”

[Cloudbat]

The Fourth Life: Patience

There was a fight, brief but bloody. Owlstar had died once more, but she too had received vicious scrapes on her belly and chest. Now she was the hunted, crouching in a rabbit burrow as her ears were pricked for sounds of pursuit. Crouching as she replayed Hailstorm’s death again and again in her mind.

Had there truly been no other way? Of course there hadn’t. But how she be judged for his death? Surely StarClan would understand; they had set her on this path after all. He had been an obstacle on the way to the prize.

Still, she had killed him of her own free will. Miststar felt unclean. All of the times she had killed Owlstar, she had felt only triumph. But Hailstorm…she had known him, if only as an acquaintance. They had patrolled together, hunted together, shared prey. She had never dreamed of murdering him.

For the first time she began to wonder if she was truly doing the right thing.

However, ponderings disappeared as she heard yowls of victory; they had found her path. She could only hope that the traps she’d set would lead them astray. The pale-coated leader was no condition to fight; it only increased her sense of dread to know that the apprentices as well as Owlstar would be out for her blood. She was confident in her ability to fight them off, but she didn’t want to kill them unless it was absolutely necessary.

Distantly, she heard cursing as somebody – Sootpaw or Blackpaw from the sound of it -stumbled into the web of thorns she’d hastily planted by a small stream. It would take a while for them to get out, but in the meantime –she counted quickly – three cats were still left.

And one was getting close; she could smell the half FogClan, half wild scent very near the entryway of the burrow. Was it Owlstar?....no. It was Blackpaw, which meant Sootpaw was stuck in the thorns and her prey and Cinderpaw were still out there. She’d masked her scent with mud, but…would he check here anyway?

He did.

Such fury she had never seen on a cat’s face before. Fury mixed with sorrow and pain. “I know you’re here.” He hissed, his silhouette distinctive against the faint starlight coming into the burrow. “Miststar, you piece of dung. It wasn’t enough to take FogClan; you had to hunt down Owlstar too. I don’t know how your evil, twisted mind works, but I swear to you that you will pay for your crimes, you wretched filth.”

His heavy body slowly navigated the climb downward, downward…ever closer to her hiding spot. Forgive me, StarClan, she thought forlornly. I never meant for this to happen. Creeping out, she faced the apprentice. He leaped down at her; she ducked, and he skidded past her. Like lightning she swiveled, pouncing, her back paws holding him down as her front paws found his eyes and sunk into them. He howled piteously as his sight left him forever. She withdrew, head low at her shameful act.

“I am sorry, Blackpaw. But nothing shall stand between me and my rightful inheritance.” With that, she climbed back out of the burrow.

---

Cinderpaw, she soon discovered, had been led astray by her second trap; an intentional trail of her scent leading to just below a bees’ nest. Luckily, the apprentice had sense enough to submerge herself in the mud of the nearby stream to soothe her stings– near Sootpaw, in fact.

Now where was-

“You think you’re so clever, don’t you, my deputy?" The last two words were spoken with such scorn that even Miststar, cold and imperious, shivered as she turned to face her enemy. The white parts of her fur almost glowed; the black seemed to melt into the night. Her yellow eyes were cold and without any mercy.

“You don’t even deserve a warrior’s death. But I’m giving you one anyway. Consider it a mark of the respect I once had for you.” Before she’d even finished speaking, the big she-cat lunged – but Miststar had been ready; she dropped and rolled to the side with only a nick on her tail to show.

Owlstar immediately flung herself down onto the smaller FogClanner; her thick-boned frame kept the ivory she-cat captive even as she kicked wildly, jaws gnashing as she attempted to bite her captor. “In a fair fight, you could never win. Accept that as you die.”

The former leader of FogClan killed the former deputy of FogClan with a single bite, then with one last disdainful look, she padded away.

As if StarClan could have ever favored her, she thought as she snorted to herself. Then again…she would be lying if she were to say her own faith in them wasn’t slightly shaken too. Why had they allowed this? She had been a good leader, a good –

A good fool as teeth sunk into her neck again, and even as she died for the sixth time she wondered, unbelievingly, how it was possible.

Miststar, smug as a cat could be, sat back, tail waving in satisfaction. She spoke once to the corpse before fleeing.

“In a fair fight, I would have won before it even began.”

Thus Miststar took the fourth life for her own.

[Cloudbat]

The Fifth Life: Resourcefulness

It was hot now, the heat that scrambles minds and makes one want to spend their time lolling about and drinking water. They had chased her far from the Ranch, far from the territories of the Clans.

Nearly a moon had passed since her last kill. Things were at a stalemate now. Owlstar could not track her down, especially with Blackpaw blind now, and Miststar had not been able to murder her again. It became almost a game. A deadly game, in which she no longer held the advantage. Her foe still had three lives left; she had been robbed of her only extra one.

What she needed was a masterstroke.

The problems were numerous, however. The heat, first and foremost. Secondly, her wounds. Luckily, she knew a few basic cures and had been able to dress the scrapes (if clumsily) and stave off infection. But they were still only half-healed.

If I cannot kill her, what can? mused the ivory she-cat to herself wearily, but then a spark of an idea shone in her mind. What can . . .?

Another plot was set a-brewing.

---

Finding the badgers had not been difficult.

Baiting them and keeping them from murdering her themselves would be almost impossible.

How would she lead them to Owlstar, or lead Owlstar to them? For all her unworthiness the black-and-white she-cat was not stupid. She wouldn’t fall for the scent-trail trick again.

I’ll just have to take risks, she decided with conviction. This shall be a demonstration of my faith. If StarClan wishes me to succeed, then I shall.

As the sun set she disguised her scent and stole into the den of the black and white brutes. It was close, very close, but she managed to kill a kit and escape the sett before the parents woke up and bellowed their rage as their murdered child was carried off.

---

“Badger attack!” screeched Sootpaw, who was on guard as he smelled and heard the galumphing of the heavy creatures coming, tail bushed out as he called the alarm.

The other three woke quickly, groggy but waking rapidly as they too realized what was coming.

---

The wounded leader was quickly growing tired as she ran for her life with the dead cub hanging limply from her jaws, her breath coming in ragged spurts. Only the thought of being given all her lives kept her going, and only barely.

Finally she saw the just-rising shapes of the rebels and with the last of her strength tossed the cub into their midst as she ran by – and then collapsed and rolled down the slight slope, only narrowly missing the mud pit at the bottom.

She smiled weakly in relief as snarls and yowls reached her ears along with the metallic taste of blood.

Thank you, StarClan. Owlstar must be dead by now.

But the badgers’ bloodlust was not satiated and their beady eyes narrowed as they sniffed, realizing there was still one more cat that they had not injured or killed. The three smaller creatures had fled up trees – the larger one had sacrificed herself and lay dead.

One picked up the scent of the ivory she-cat and growled to the others of what it had found. Eager to slaughter her as well, they crashed down the slope – into the mud pit. Still, one managed to cut a slash in the green-eyed FogClanner as it tumbled by, eyes filled with hate.

Miststar merely felt relief. It was over, almost over.

Yes, thought the silently watching spirit who had first sent her on the quest. It is over. Almost over.

Thus Miststar took the fifth life for her own.

[Cloudbat]

The Sixth Life: Honor

The penultimate life was not gained in an act of trickery or bravery, slyness or courage. No, the sixth life of a FogClan leader was taken by honor.

Miststar, tired of complex plots that nearly took her life in the bargain, waited long weeks to heal. While she grew stronger, she watched the already-haggard foursome grow worn down by constant paranoia and vigilance.

Though the three apprentices were almost always sent out in pairs now with one behind to guard Owlstar (usually the blind Blackpaw) there came a day when it was Sootpaw, and, exhausted from his burden and his black-and-white leader sleeping soundly as well, his head drooped and he succumbed to slumber as she hid in a tree branch above, watching.

Malice given form seemed to pin Sootpaw down, knocking the wind out of him and ragged claws flexed at his rapidly pulsing throat while cool green eyes met his yellow ones.

The fanatic’s voice was low and hoarse. “I would advise against moving very much, or at all. Now wake your unholy leader.” The warrior-age apprentice hesitated, but shook his head. Beads of blood pooled under his chin as the ivory FogClanner slowly dug the miniature daggers in soft flesh. She wouldn’t kill him – she needed him as a bargain piece – but he need not know that.

“O-owlstar.”He choked out and she relaxed her grip, though still keeping him pinned. “Please…wake up.” The heavyset leader’s eyes slowly opened, but as she took in the scene she sprang up, fur bristling. She opened her mouth – almost certainly to spit curses – but her former deputy interrupted.

“As is obvious, I can slit his throat before you can even knock me over. So here is my promise: one of your lives in exchange for his.”

“You dare?! You are so low as to use an innocent life for a bargaining chip? I don’t know if StarClan still watches over us, but if they do they are blind, sick, twisted fiends for allowing you to take power in my Clan, Mistdung. You could never be a true leader.”

Unperturbed by the insults, she merely yawned. “Tick, tock. My claws itch for blood, and I’m not fussy about whose. Come and lay face-down so I can end this.”

Snarling with loathing, the bi-colored she-cat did as instructed, and only her apprentice’s frightened face restrained her from killing her murderer five and now six times over as her neck was bitten.

Any temptation Miststar may have had to break her word and kill again were swiftly chased away as Owlstar came back to life almost immediately and slashed at her, grazing her side as she fled.

Both foes were now fully mortal.

One last gamble to be had.

One last life.

[Cloudbat]

The Seventh and Final Life: Acceptance

No pretense shadowed the foes’ final encounter. The next day both stood on a grassy plain, so far from home as to be unimaginable.

Green eyes met yellow. One wounded in body and mind but driven by desperation and madness, one so full of loathing for the world that had allowed this to happen.

“Did you really have that dream?” Owlstar asked scornfully as they watched each other. “Or were you always a piece of covetous scum and found an excuse?”

“Obviously. I am StarClan’s messenger and servant. You may have planted the seed of FogClan but it was always going to be mine to grow and nurture, and mine alone.”

“Fine. Take my whole Clan, my life, but why hound me like a filthy dog, murdering again and again? How is “your” precious Clan while you seek petty vengeance?” She spat. “We have no blessings of our ancestors left between us; and my loyal ones-” (Here she looked at her apprentices and her gaze softened a bit) “-will not interfere. We fight to one of our true deaths."

“Your lives will be mine when I kill you for good at last. Surely it is obvious.”

The bi-colored she-cat laughed. “You ask me to comprehend the mind of a mad fool.”

“I ask for a fight I will win.”

“HA!” screamed Owlstar, leaping at her opponent. Miststar was expecting it and ducked, only to have her head raked down the middle as her foe smoothly landed behind her, turned and slashed with incredible speed. She scarcely had time to land a blow herself before she found herself keeping up a constant stream of defense to avoid being destroyed.

For the fanatic was drained of strength and the old leader as fresh as a new warrior. Slowly, she was beaten down, edging backwards in weakness.

As Owlstar dove in for the final blow, her former deputy used the last of her strength to lash forward and rip her chest open as her former leader’s fangs sunk in her throat.

Both died at the same time, surprise in their faces, as if neither could believe the final picture in the tales of their lives. Such overpowering yet crippling belief in one’s own faith and strength.

It will always be the bane of the pure.

EPILOGUE

Sootpaw, Cinderpaw, and Blackpaw wordlessly buried the pair side by side.

All were still recovering from the nightmare had been the last few moons. It now seemed almost like a dream.

All spoke words over the graves, Cinderpaw mumbling and sighing and Blackpaw staring sightlessly and yowling into the night.

Sootpaw, who now called himself simply Soot, spoke with a heart heavier than he could have imagined possible.

“Here lies Owlstar, first leader of FogClan and a decent, honorable, faithful cat. Here also lies Miststar, a deceiver to all including herself. One will be missed and the other is better gone. I now renounce my life as a Clan cat, as do my friends, Cinder and Black. We will begin new lives, unmarked by tyranny and fear. I pray…I pray StarClan helps the Clans, somehow. Please.”

The trio moved on, free from the shadow of the fog and mist. What became of them is another story.

But this one has one last part to tell.

---

Owlstar’s shade joined her ancestors after she was tested. Miststar’s went to the very place she feared and loathed: the Dark Forest.

StarClan, weary and sorrowful but grimly satisfied by the success of their plan, turned their eyes back once more to the suffering souls of FogClan.

And wonder if even they could heal the wounds inflicted so deep upon the sufferers of the regime in their own names.

And whether they should even try.

END