Cynical

[Darkie]

Darkwater padded out of her den, tail twitching. She was annoyed, as usual. She looked around the camp at all the gullible, mouse-brained cats that surrounded her. It continuously astonished her that they could believe all that waffle that they were fed about the “Flaming Eternal” watching over then and accepting their souls when they died. Nothing happened when you died. You ceased to exist. Nobody remembered you. Darkwater firmly believed that the only things that mattered were the things that you did when you were alive.

She wandered over to the fresh-kill pile and sniffed at the meager offerings. Apparently everyone else had already eaten. Those lazy kittypets would never hunt for themselves, or do anything else for that matter, either. Her tail thrashing now, she climbed up to the top of the boulder, and then leapt to the ground on the other side. She bounded off in the direction of the pine forest, intending to catch some prey. She wanted something to eat, and it was probably the best way to get some privacy. All of the other cats were still scared to go up on the mountains because some mouse-brained cat had gone up and gotten himself killed over leaf-bare. It had been his fault, anyway. Even kits knew not to go to the mountains during leaf-bare.

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

The only clue to his evil presence was the slight shadow that slid along the ground with him; an extension of his own shadowy pelt, perhaps. The superstitious told of a cold wind that followed him - a cold wind of death and hate. In reality there was nothing so dramatic to anounce his passing. Only the keenest eyes and ears and olfactories would sense him as he padded along silently, cold eyes alert.

He licked the last blood from dark lips as he left the side of a sapling. He was not hungry; he seldom was. The Phantom ate well. Instead, he was pensive - a strange state for the black cat who usually killed before thinking. He'd had little need to think in the past moons; but now he thought. Blood could not be enough; after a time killing became monotonous. Every cat feared him. It grew tiresome. Some new diversion was needed: some new cruelty that would entertain his lust for blood and terror, and that would keep the encroaching boredom at bay.

Cat-scent - there was a cat somewhere ahead. There - the edge of the pine forest. A black she-cat just entering the trees. A kill? Perhaps not. Perhaps there could be a better use for the creature before him. What use? Phantom wasn't quite certain yet; but the dark, deadly mind was wrapping round a new thought. For the first time in a very, very long time, Phantom allowed himself to purr just a wee bit, in anticipation. Quicker now he trotted on silent paws toward the black cat ahead of him.

[Darkie]

Darkwater slowed her pace slightly as she entered the forest, listening for the sound of a tiny heart beating, or some scrabbling in the pine needles that covered the ground. There was no detectable sound, but when she scented the air she quickly located an unsuspecting mouse. She stalked forward slowly, careful not to make a sound, or to move in such a way that the animal would hear her. Inwardly, she sneered at her unsuspecting prey; no wonder mouse-brain was an insult- she was no more than a foxlength behind it now, and it STILL didn’t know she was there! She caught it, and killed it quickly. She hesitated, thinking that she ought to bring it back for the Clan, but then decided against it, and devoured it; she was hungry, and besides, what had her Clanmates ever done for her? Very little, was the answer; Darkwater was never one for owing another cat for anything; the idea of being indebted to someone disgusted her.

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

Phantom's silent tread brought him to within a foxlength of the black she-cat ahead of him. She pounced on a mouse and he smelt the warm blood as it flowed from the lifeless creature. His whiskers could feel the body-heat clinging to the corpse. He licked his lips silently. He wouldn't mind feeling the life leaving a soft, helpless creature in his strong jaws, between his sharp teeth. His tail twitched. No; he would eat later. He ate abundantly, always. He smiled faintly, blinked his eyes slowly, and crept closer to the cat before him.

"Good morning," he whispered, his muzzle now close to the other cat's right ear.



{ooc;; Short post; sorry. --slapslap--badllama. No muse.}

[Darkie]

In the heartbeat that came after the voice whispered in her ear, Darkwater thought several things. First, that she had not given the mouse enough credit. Secondly, that she did not recognize the sound of this cat’s voice, and thirdly, that she should immediately attack. She whipped her head around and bit down, hoping to catch the cat’s ear. In retrospect, it, perhaps, was not the wisest choice; the cat had not shown any trace of hostility, after all. In that moment, however, it didn’t matter; she could already feel the adrenaline pumping through her body, urging her to fight, to kill, if necessary. The heat of battle was already blazing in her heart and in her eyes; she could almost hear the battle cries, almost feel her claws meeting flesh. Whether or not the cat had come for a fight, it was going to get one.

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

The black cat would fight him. Even as he twisted slightly to avoid the cat's sudden attack, he felt almost pleased. Most cats didn't fight. Most cat's cringed, pleaded, or simply screamed in terror. Of course the cat had no chance of harming him; but a fight... How long had it been since he had a true fight? Far too long. He felt a strange mingled purr and growl rising in his throat. He whipped round and felt his claws rake the side of the black cat's haunch. He smelled the blood and had to strangle his killing instinct. It would be so easy. To snap the neck. To rip open the abdominal cavity. There were so many ways to kill, to draw blood, to increase the other cat's pain and to bring forth the screams and whimpers of terror, pain, confusion, rage. But he strangled the killing instinct. Perhaps he could use this cat. A dead cat could be useful. His mind dwelt momentarily on the lovely terror and confusion and awful horror that would fill this cat's clan if he dragged the bloodied, mutilated carcass back and left it there. But a live cat could be very useful; perhaps more so. The beginnings of an idea were still forming in his mind. Like dark thunderclouds gathering in the sky, filling the spaces between the trees with dark, menacing shadows. He twisted out of reach of the other cat and let a snarl rip from his throat, just briefly. It wouldn't take long. He would pin the cat here and then see what sort of shades had formed in his mind.

[Darkie]

Darkwater restrained herself. Her first attack had been impulsive, mouse-brained; the place where the other cat had raked his claws down her felt like it was on fire; she obviously needed to be more careful this time. She backed up a little, dropped into a half-crouch, and stared at the cat with piercing eyes, the tip of her tail flicking back and forth. She pulled her ears back and growled deep in her throat when he snarled at her. The intelligent thing to do in this situation would probably have been to spend some time sizing up her opponent; getting an idea of his capabilities. But Darkwater didn’t want to- she couldn’t. She already felt the fire in the very core of her being- the need to fight, to draw blood, to ravage flesh with claws. Something inside of her demanded that she fight- now; that she hesitate no longer, that she teach this piece of fox dung what it meant to be an EmberClan Pelt. Before she knew what she was doing, she lunged forward without warning, claws unsheathed to rake the cat’s side. She would not be the only one to lose blood today.

[[[ShAdYCaUStI]]]

The she-cat crouched warily before him and he waited. Would she run or attack once more? She sprang forward again and he stepped aside, but not before one of her claws had cut into his pelt. Not a deep cut, not a long cut; not even a painful cut. But it was a cut. How long had it been since any cat had cut him? How long had it been since any cat had come anywhere near closing with him? He felt the anger inside him rising. This arrogant cat would know pain and suffering for that insult. He flattened his ears, narrowed his eyes to slits, and twisted, leapt onto the other cat, his claws slicing through the air as he brought his fury against the black cat who dared to fight him. He would not kill this cat; he still had the gatherings storm clouds in his mind warning him that perhaps this interesting run-in could have benefits in the future. But he would hurt her. He would draw her blood, draw screams of agony. This cat would suffer.