The Next Generation

Instructions

Poisonpaw stared at her feet, her amber eyes glazed over as her mind drifted. The wind tugged lightly at her short, light brown and white splotched fur as she thought. A twig snapped behind her and she jumped, turning to see Thornstar and his son, Darkpaw, padding beside him. Poisonpaw smiled and got to her paws as they approached. "There you are." The leader purred, licking her forehead and eyes shining with love as he looked at his daughter, reminding him so much of the cat he loved. Poisonpaw smiled as Darkpaw's ears perked, his attention turning to the undergrowth. "I think I smell something." The young black and gray tom mewed. "I'll be right back." Then he turned and bounded off, searching the forest for his prey. Poisonpaw wasted no time, waiting until he was only just out of earshot to ask the question she had been wondering as they made their way back to camp. "What was my mom like?" Thornstar's eyes widened, pain and regret and longing all mixed together flashing in their green depths as his pawsteps faltered slightly. He hesitated for a moment, then sighed. "She was wild, Poisonpaw. She was so, so brave and smart and charming-well, not usually, but to me..." He laughed sadly. "She was snappy and rude at times, but once you got to know her, she was a different cat. She was adventurous and even kind at times, and fun.. carefree... I loved her... I /love/ her so, so much... But it was partly my fault that she turned for the worse." Poisonpaw nodded sullenly as they entered camp, cats immediately sending her 'looks'. Though they tried to hide it, cats were suspicious of her and judged her because she looked so much like her mother. The same narrowed amber eyes, the same white and brown fur, the same long tail and legs.. The young she-cat sighed as Nightshade padded over, nuzzling Thornstar before smiling at Poisonpaw, who gave her a weak smile back. Nightshade had been like a mother to her. She was kind and caring and gentle... But sometimes, just sometimes, she didn't want to /be/ like Nightshade. Sometimes she didn't want to /be/ quiet, even though if she wasn't she knew the Clan would think she was just like her mother. But, even though she hated herself for it, sometimes she wanted to /be/ like her mother. Fearless, carefree, vicious, ready to take on the world and reign hell as she pleased... Sometimes she wanted to be like Vineripple. -------------------- Fox paced just past the ThunderClan border, his forest green eyes narrowed and his tail lashing behind him. His strong muscles flexed beneath his long, sleek russet fur as his mind raced. From the moment he opened his eyes, Vineripple had told him about ThunderClan. About how she loved it, loved his father, Thornstar, and how he had betrayed her for Nightshade. Even thinking the she-cat's name he felt rage bubble in his veins. The young tom had so much of it. Rage, that is. He had been born and raised on it, spoon-fed his mother’s hate from an early age, and that's what he chose to focus on. The rage his mother had, and what he was going to do to avenge her. Because that's what he was going to do. Avenge his mother. He was going to take over ThunderClan. Take Thornstar's lives one by one while Nightshade watched. And then it would be her turn, and he'd kill her. Slowly. Very, very slowly. Yes, and his mother would be watching from the Dark Forest, an evil smile on her face as he did it all in her name, in her honor. He grinned darkly at the very thought of it. However, what Fox chose to ignore about his mother were the things his brother held close to his heart. The love in her eyes as she taught them to hunt, the way she playfully wrestled with them, how her eyes shone when she told them stories.. Crush knew how much she had loved Thornstar. How much she still loved him. And, how much she loved them, him and Fox. She loved them to the moon and back, but Crush also felt... conflicted. His mother was a bad cat. He had watched as she nursed a deep hate into his brother, even though he knew she loved them and couldn't foster the same feeling into him. Why couldn't she, though? Because Crush remembered. He was the first of all three of them to open his eyes, and he saw it all. He saw the death, he saw the blood, he saw the wild, crazed look in her eyes as she fought for her enemies ends. And, even now, moons and moons later, he couldn't forget. He couldn't forget the cat he knew his mother was, the things she had done... The gray tom squeezed his green eyes shut, digging his claws into the ground. His white underfur glistened slightly. She loved him, yes, and she would never do anything to hurt him, but to her enemies? To her enemies, /she/ was the monster.