story | Quillfrost's Destiny

Written By: brokenthroat
Status: in progress
Genre: Fanfiction | Warriors | OC
Disclaimer: Warriors is copyright to Erin Hunter. Everything else belongs to brokenthroat.
Comments: meh.

It'd been three seasons since the battle at Fourtrees.

Three seasons. The thought jarred Quillfrost's mind. Every night he closed his eyes to the sound of screams, and opened them to the waves of blood running sticky and thick over his paws. No cat could forget the bloodshed that had turned a once peaceful gathering place into the stage for carnage and destruction.

It was the day that ThunderClan fell. It was the day that brother turned on brother, warrior on warrior, and claws sought to kill rather than to drive away.

If he closed his eyes, he could still remember it as though it were only that sunrise. He'd ascended the crest above the hollow alongside his Clanmates, twitching his whiskers nervously. There was an unspoken thrum of danger in the air, thick as fox fur over the clearing below. The ThunderClan cats had already assembled, and atop the Great Rock a black-and-white smudge was perched: Crowstar, the ThunderClan leader. The air was still, but Quillfrost could still^{is this 'still' necessary?} smell the scents of WindClan and ShadowClan across the ridge, perched among the undergrowth and watching like hawks in wait. It sent a foreboding shiver down Quillfrost's spine.

Forgive me, StarClan, for what I'm about to watch my Clan do.

(His leader was the first to move. Tall, burly Fogstar moved forward,)^{This seems a little redundant} standing at the edge of the crest with his proud head held high; his dark grey fur, bright with RiverClan sleekness, was turned silver by the light of the full moon. With a twitch of his thick tail he summoned his Clanmates, and as one, they bore down the hill with a great speed. Across the ridge, Littlestar of ShadowClan and Mothstar of WindClan did the same, and in heartbeats the hollow was alive with the screeches of cats. Quillfrost felt his blood turn to ice as an elderly ThunderClan queen was caught by a husky ShadowClan tom: she let out a thin wail before her voice died in her throat as the tom's teeth closed around her spine. The violence was horrifying, and the smell of blood and fear turned the young tom's stomach.

But he was powerless. The prophecy had been clear as the river in greenleaf.

As long as the thunder brought rain and storm, the Clans would never be safe. The thunder must be destroyed before the world would fall to darkness.

Crowstar's kits, Rainkit and Stormkit. ThunderClan had to fall. It was so clear, so obvious...wasn't it?

Quillfrost shuddered, disturbed by thoughts of omen and righteous killing. If he'd never delivered the prophecy to Fogstar, it may never have happened...but his duty was to the Clans. He'd had no choice. The young medicine cat felt sick, but there was nothing that he could do or say. He'd made the right decision. It had to have been.

Please, he thought, sickened. Please, don't let me be wrong.