Heartless [open]

[Warfrost]

An evening sky was dramatically painted over the world as the sun began to fall from its throne in the celestial kingdom overhead. Bright amber was melted into shades of dark crimsons and rosy pinks, making the scattered clouds stand out with their dark black hue. For a moment, the world was the color of a sunset; the soft light from the retreating sun deepening and smoothing shadows. This beautiful minute in time was enough to take one's breath away, as the exchange between dominance of the sky took place. As the sun sank ever lower towards the horizon, its brilliant colors played in the warm river. Red and gold danced along its moving surface and played in its rolling depths. The winding river had become a liquidated sunset, desperately holding on to these magnificent colors as if trying to preserve their rare hues. The enchantment of this time caused the birds to quiet and the breeze to still. Earth and heaven seemed to be holding its breath, until it couldn't stand it anymore. The quick disappearance of the sun breathed life back into the now nightly canvas of nature. It wasn't as grand as the sunset, but the midnight blues and dark greys worked well with the silvery moonlight whites.

A supernatural hush came over the land as the night introduced an intimidating realm of shadows. The sound of water rushing over rock was the only noise heard, as if the river did not mind the eerie stillness. An icy claw of the moon hung high above the ground, surrounded by sharp thorns of cold stars. But not as cold as the beast that disguised itself effortlessly into the ebony and ivory of a hauntingly silent night. It was barely noticeable in the colorless world, but dull yellow eyes betrayed its presence. Stalking through the reeds, the creature continued on its way, sure of its destination. The reeds were disturbed by a chilling breeze, rattling as if talking. What is this creature? they whisper. What intent does this beast have? But these questions remained unanswered as the bulky monster prowled out of the marshy lands and into a field of subtle brush. It passed a Twoleg nest, unconcerned by the hairless beings that never came out much in the late hours. Finally it drew to a stop a fair distance away from the Twoleg nest- it could still be seen but the creature was well out of sight if the Twolegs did happen to venture out into the night. Its shape was more defined against the sky now that it had left the marshland behind. It was a cat- and a rather large and muscular one at that. Power and strength could be sensed beneath that black-and-white fur, as was made obvious by its next set of actions.

The tom's yellow eyes darkly searched out a certain element. Finally, they landed on a low bush with thick, protective leaves and strong branches. Crouching, his muscles strained to contract, bulging as all that strength and power was concentrated in his central, entire being. Suddenly, all this restrained summoning of power was unleashed with fierce motion. His muscles rejoiced as he released the clenching command, shooting off the ground in a mighty lunge. His claws quickly became unsheathed, and the warrior landed heavily on the bush. Many moons of practice had left him expertly skilled: professional and advanced battle moves left the tough plant shredded, down to even the wooden stalk. The tom stepped back to size up his success with a criticizing eye. This was what he was born to do, this was his purpose. War. Whiskers twitching in satisfaction, he sat quietly, resting for awhile to allow restoration of his energy. He was a battle strategist, and a very talented one at that. He took in consideration his strengths and weaknesses. Although his large size and muscle bulk did make him very strong and hard to bring down, it also set him at a disadvantage. He wasn't at all agile or quick with running, so he had to make up for that with his other strengths. Much training when he was an apprentice and regular practice while he was a warrior led him to better himself in this art of battle. Rightly so, for he might as well live up to his name: Warfrost. A name that he darkly wished would be feared upon the tongue of his enemies.

One day that name might just change. Warfrost was ambitious for the leader position of his Clan, wanting to make "Warstar" be the greatly feared name of the RiverClan leader. Surely then his Clan would be led to greatness, and long after he was dead and gone the cats would learn stories about how RiverClan became possibly the most powerful and fierce Clan under the guidance of their fearsome leader, Warstar. Even the queens would frighten their kits into obedience by saying if they didn't behave, the mighty Warstar would steal them away while they slept. Not that Warfrost wanted to be remembered as a carelessly bloodthirsty villain. Rather as one of the greatest leaders ever known that he was feared and respected, even in death. But for now, he remained as Warfrost, the helpful, kind warrior his Clanmates knew and loved. Or, thought they knew. Warfrost was disgusted by their blindness, but he needed to keep them in their current opinion of him until he rose to power. The last thing he could possibly want was any aroused suspicion before he had a chance to get his claws on the leader position. But first the deputy and leader would have to die before then, and Warfrost would be risking much to arrange that. The black-and-white tom turned his track of thought away from the careful planning he had to do for the future, and concentrated again on searching for a suitable bush for his battle practice.

[Greenflower]

The sun had slipped past the horizon, falling asleep after a long day. The warm air started to cool and darkness started to fall over the land. A soft but chilly wind that was only brought by newleaf started to weave its way through the tree branches which clattered in the wind’s wake. The new leaves shuddered and wished for Greenleaf which was the time they would be at their greenest. Mice, rabbits, and voles curled up in their shelters and were protected from the creatures that stalked the night. While the rest of the world seemed to be falling asleep, one shape kept moving.

Moving in a straight line, the sleek shape of a cat slipped through the silence. Night was falling all around but it didn’t seem to bother her. Black and ginger fur blended with the undergrowth, her light paws didn’t make a sound, and her breathing was even, Greenflower was invisible. The only way something would notice the she-cat were if she dropped the fish that hung from her jaws. It was the last of the prey she needed to bring back to camp. After a long day of hunting solo, as she did most days, this was the last of the food she was bringing in. The she-cat did wear a smile though as she pushed through some bushes. Since the beginning of newleaf, the amount of prey had increased. Her days had been wasted in leafbare when the river was frozen over and she couldn’t get a paw into the water. With the arrival of newleaf, fish was bountiful and her hunting missions were great successes.

She was a loyal cat, her clan came first and that was why she spent the days hunting. Cats wasted such time sharing tongues or just screwing around when they could be doing work. At times Greenflower swore that the only cats that worked as hard as she had a hidden agenda. These cats wanted to be the deputy and then leader or wanted to gain favor of those in charge to receive praise or respect. While Greenflower did use it as an escape from her clanmates, she also believed in hard work and its rewards. When she brought in the most prey after a long day, there was a certain pride that she yearned for. Greenflower had no interest in being a friend, a mother, a deputy, or a leader. Instead she strove to find pride in herself, to be confident in her own abilities was good enough for her.

The sound of rustling bushes broke Greenflower out of her uncharacteristic good mood. If there was another cat around, she would want to get out of there quickly. Instead, her curiosity got the best of the tortoiseshell and she crept toward the source, careful not to make a sound.

Greenflower froze when she spotted the massive shape of Warfrost. The black and white tom padded around, searching for something and suspicion immediately started to fill the she-cat. While cats usually praised the large RiverClan cat for being helpful to the clan and a decent tom, Greenflower didn’t trust him. Something about the young warrior seemed off to her. Maybe she was overanalyzing again, her mother often warned her about this habit, and it tended to get on the clan’s nerves. Yet with Warfrost, she didn’t feel that she was going too deep. Scratch the surface and it was easily seen. It was a shame that most cats were morons; Greenflower had always believed that if more cats thought the way she did, the clans would be much safer.

Warfrost seemed to have found what he was searching for. His muscles bunched up under thick fur and he leapt at a harmless looking plant. The sound of a fish hitting the forest floor seemed to echo through the silent trees. Greenflower had known of Warfrost’s abilities but she had not had a chance to see them first hand. The plant had been literally torn to pieces by strong claws and thick muscles. The second reaction was a flinch; the sound of the dropped fish had undoubtedly given away her position.

“Mouseshit.” She swore under her breath. Greenflower rarely wanted to speak with other cats, much less a brute such as Warfrost. Why the hell had she investigated anyway? She was only a short distance from camp, she could have been there by now, dropped off her fish, and be snug in her nest.

Despite this, she didn’t turn and run. Instead she waited to see Warfrost’s first move. Would he acknowledge her or ignore her. A plan was already starting to form in her head.

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Words: Lucky 777
Muse: Good but still trying to get used to Greenflower
Comments: Didn't quite match 900 words but I hope I gave you something to work with. (:

[Warfrost]

The thud of flesh heavily dropping to the ground made Warfrost's well-trained muscles tense. It was familiar to him, the smell of fish. His mouth immediately began to water for the tasty catch as he turned to face the other cat. It was none other than Greenflower, the silent and anti-social warrior who did not partake in any social Clan affairs. His black ears flicked attentively forward at the she-cat as she muttered a foul curse under her breath. Warfrost, at first, simply stared at her with those eyes the color of a yellow moon in a foggy Leaf-fall sky. She was four moons older than him, but he knew less about her than he did of the smallest kit in the Clan. The black-and-white warrior let his gaze drop to the fish she had let fall to the ground. Stretching out a large paw, Warfrost slid it toward himself and bent down to take a generous bite. The tang of blood and water trickled over his tongue, the tantalizing taste driving him to take another bite. "So do you usually stalk your Clanmates or is this a new habit?" The tom meowed in his deep voice, rumbling with youth and strength. His yellow eyes didn't lift from the the fish carcass at his paws as he talked to the socially timid she-cat. He nibbled at the fish for a second before standing and flexing his claws. Warfrost eyed the small, scattered brush around him. Chewing thoughtfully, he walked over to a thick, hardy clump of tall grass growing stubbornly above the stunted tufts of softer plant growth around it.

Warfrost padded around it, mouth drawn down in a decisive frown. Finally he crouched in front of it, calculating the best method of attack. "Out of curiosity, why were you spying on me? You honestly can't be that suspicious of your fellow Clanmates, can you?" Unsheathing his claws, he shot out a paw and brought it crashing down on the tall plant, slicing a few strands in half. It was a simple Front Paw Strike, one of the basic moves you learn in the beginning of your training. The tom suddenly leaped to the side of the grass, striking another paw where he imagined an enemy's belly to be. But just as soon as he had done that he twisted slightly and did a strange, unfamiliar move. It was similar to an Upright Lock, but modified almost completely. Warfrost did rear up on his back paws halfway, lunging forward with his front paws spread apart widely. His paws came crashing down on both sides of the plant as he landed heavily on it. His jaws tightly was clenched around the thickest fronds of grass and his back legs slashed at the rest of the plant. In a few seconds the hardy grass was destroyed. Warfrost lifted himself, staring down at the crumbled remains. Although he had completely killed the plant, he shook his head in dissatisfaction. "Would have effectively leave the cat a bloody mess without killing it, but it was much too slow. They could have moved out of the way or counter-attacked even before I got that last move in." Warfrost shook his head again and walked back over to the fish, taking a few more bites and chewing moodily. "An apprentice could have dodged that!" He angrily hissed under his breath. Then, suddenly, seeming to notice Greenflower was still there, he grumbled, "Some cats finish their training and think they're done for the rest of their lives. But there's much more left to learn and perfect."

Warfrost seemed fairly concentrated on his late-night practicing, but the adrenaline that pulsed through his veins eased and he relaxed into a subtle crouch. The large tom continued to finish half of the fish and pawed the rest toward Greenflower. "Do you practice often or not at all?" Warfrost asked, eyes burning with frustration and calculation as he went over the motions of his earlier battle tactic and waited for her response. His attack hadn't been all that bad, but Warfrost obviously seemed to hold high standards for his own quality. What he considered to be a "failure" made him unusually talkative with the she-cat he hardly knew. It might have been apparent he wasn't completely focusing on Greenflower at the moment, and his questions were probably asked subconsciously while his true thought lied within how he could improve his battle ability. That was the way Warfrost was, and his Clanmates knew he worked hard. Of course they'd always believed it was so he could serve his Clan better. Most cats didn't take into regard that the monster of a cat could have other intentions in mind, but he seemed so friendly and helpful all the time they had no reason to. Ah, the cunning wit of a liar.

[Greenflower]

When Warfrost turned to face her, Greenflower straightened up. She met his yellow gaze with her own green without hesitation. The she-cat did her best to feign confidence despite the fact she had no desire to be speaking with this tom. She already knew that he was analyzing her; he most likely had little time to do it before. In Greenflower’s knowledge, this would be the first conversation between them. She knew little about the other warrior, which made it difficult to form a real plan of attack but she didn’t let her panic show. Her shoulders only relaxed when Warfrost’s attention turned from her to the fish and before she could react, he snagged it with a paw and took a bite.

“That was supposed—“ She started but shut up with a frown. The warrior took another bite of prey that was going to the clan. How disrespectful! She thought with the flick of her tail. She had caught that prey; he had no right to eat it. Her internal complaining was useless though as almost half the fish was already gone.

Greenflower’s newfound hatred for this tom grew when he switched from eating the fish to accusing her of spying. Her tortoiseshell fur fluffed up, making her look like a bothered rabbit. “For your information, I was going back to camp with prey for the clan when…” Again she was unable to finish her sentence. Warfrost didn’t seem to be paying attention as he stalked over to a patch of grass. With a quick motion, he ripped it apart in a simple but powerful movement. A shiver shot down Greenflower’s spine and unconsciously she backed up a step. With other cats Greenflower would not be as fearful but something about Warfrost kept Greenflower on edge.

Warfrost continued to ignore her while he moved into complex fighting moves. He grappled with the empty air but each of his strikes sent an imaginary pain through Greenflower. The unidentifiable move, which resembled an upright lock to the she-warrior, was powerful and deadly. After the grass he had chosen to fight was completely destroyed, he continued to speak. His low voice was ghostly and he seemed to be speaking to the open air rather than Greenflower.

Despite the awful mess Warfrost had made and the brutality of his fighting moves, Greenflower found herself agreeing with the younger warrior. Training was never over; it reminded her of her old rival. Stormpaw was the type that would never settle he would have trained well into warriorhood. It was disappointing that he never made it that far. At that point, Warfrost was reminding her of Stormpaw and she did her best to suppress the ghost of a smile. His words spoke of the stupidity of the normal warrior, believing that they were the best only because they received their name. It was the reason cats were killed in battle, if only training continued after the naming.

The question was suddenly turned on Greenflower and she straightened up. “I practice when I can.” She mewed, her tail twitched with anticipation as she watched his ever twitching muscles. “Training is difficult though when you don’t have a partner. I would rather not associate with my clanmates.” Greenflower paused and flicked an ear. “The idiots.” She muttered under her breath. It was quiet but she knew that Warfrost could hear her. “Is that why you have superior fighting skills?” She switched to Warfrost when passed the half-eaten fish toward her. With a sigh, she took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. It was better to not waste prey and she hadn’t eaten much during the day. “Do you train every night?” She asked, a sudden curiosity filled her. Warfrost really was a different cat than RiverClan saw but there was more than to him than just being a brute. This was the most interested Greenflower had been in another cat in what seemed an eternity.

[Warfrost]

Newleaf crickets chirped merrily as they hid in the grass. The night air was comfortably lukewarm, and Warfrost was able to drag his mind off of battle practice and fully on the she-cat. The large tom smirked as she admitted her significant dislike for associating with her Clanmates. He was further silently amused when she whispered about them being idiots under her breath. "Be that as it may," Warfrost calmly meowed. "A Clan needs warriors, not phantoms. If you don't like to associate with the so-called 'idiots', then there is no need for you to be part of a Clan. Everyone needs a purpose. What's yours?" The way this was stated made it more or less a rhetorical question, but Warfrost seemed to have an interest in her answer. At her questions, his full attention was drawn. The warrior sat, his emotionless yellow eyes searching her subtle expression. "Superior fighting skills? Is that what the Clan thinks of me?" A rumbling chuckle vibrated through his lungs. "That's probably part of the reason. I suppose it's not much of a surprise though, since my mentor was Dawnfang. You might remember him. He was that tall copper-colored cat with those brilliant fighting skills. Dawnfang worked me hard each and every day, always pushing me beyond my limits so that I might overcome my weaknesses. In the rare moments where he wasn't training me I was off practicing by myself." Warfrost paused, noticing the respect seeping into his voice for his previous mentor. Dawnfang was the only cat he had admired and respected; the copper-colored prodigy had been worthy of holding authority over Warfrost. If Dawnfang had ordered him to pretend he was a squirrel, Warfrost would probably have done it in a heartbeat without hesitation.

Warfrost blinked and continued, "You and I were apprentices together for a short while, remember?" His whiskers twitched in amusement. "You truly must not acknowledge your Clanmates. Or you were just so busy arguing all the time with-" Warfrost immediately cut himself off, recalling the tradgedy of Stormpaw's death. It must still sting Greenflower to know that she had been saved while Stormpaw died. If memory served right, they seemed to have been enemies, but even an anti-social cat like Greenflower must feel some sorrow with the knowledge that she survived while her Clanmate drowned. Clearing his throat, Warfrost decided it best to answer her second question. "Every night? I try to. There's a lot I do other than just practicing battle moves. As an apprentice I built muscle by swimming a lot against the current. So I swim when I can as well. I find it important to train by yourself at times, so you can get to know your various strengths and weaknesses and how to put them to good use. My 'superior fighting skills' mostly comes from self-teaching. I take normal battle moves and modify them to fit my abilities. Battle is mainly what I know, it's what I do best. I couldn't let them call me Warfrost for nothing." The tom finished talking, frowning at how much he rambled. Perhaps Greenflower wasn't the only one socially awkward.

Thoughtfully remembering her earlier statement, he cautiously suggested, "I have to agree with you that training is difficult without a partner. There's quite a difference between practicing with a cat with battle training and... attacking plants. It's more realistic in a way, because you have the risk of getting hurt or wounded. I know you might not like to associate with your Clanmates, but you seem quite content on approaching and talking to me. If you don't consider me too much of an idiot like the rest, perhaps you'd like to practice with me?" Warfrost stood and backed up, making sure to sheathe his claws. The warrior longed to actually fight someone, even if it was just practice with sheathed claws. It made it interesting because they could defend themselves and fight back. The tom could further improve his fighting skills this way, and Greenflower might learn a thing or two as well in the process. Warfrost desired to have an apprentice, and not only because it would make him legible for being chosen deputy, but because he wanted to actually pass down some his battle knowledge to another cat. To teach them as well as Dawnfang taught him. Secretly, his heart twisted in hidden agony every time he thought of his former mentor. The copper tom had the misfortune of running into two foxes that had been chased off of ThunderClan territory. Even with his legendary skill, the tom was no match for two full-grown male foxes, especially after they managed to break one of his back legs. Warfrost was all the more set on becoming leader one day because of that. To let Dawnfang know he had trained his apprentice to glory and power. That was one of the reasons Warfrost fought so grandly in battle. He was fighting not for himself, but for the only cat he truly had cared about.