User:VibrantPassion/Blackhaze's Curse

''Sometimes tales are told one-sided, blinded by relationships within the story. This happened to Blackhaze, a deceased WinterClan warrior who walked a path of blood and shadows her entire life. Now, we see her experiences through this cat's own eyes, and see how things went her way.''

Prologue
The gloom of this forest was the first thing that Blackhaze saw when she opened her eyes. Her wounds from her death - crushed by stalagmites - no longer ached, yet scars laced her pelt like pale pink streams, making her shiver as she was reminded that she was no longer alive.

The black she-cat pricked her ears, and her pupils dilated as she realized where she was. This could never be StarClan - there was no hint of starshine in this dark and empty place. She curled her lip in triumph. None of those foolish, “heroic” cats who roamed the dumb stars would run here, and she stood up straighter, lashing her thin tail like a whip in her pride.

“Welcome, Blackhaze.” A voice hissed in her ears, and she flattened them, baring her teeth in the beginning of a snarl. Her head whipped from side to side, as the voice continued, “You have earned your place in the Dark Forest, and you are now to walk this path of bloodshed for all eternity.”

Might as well tell a story now of how I came here, she thought contemptuously, casually sitting down and lapping a paw, still blood-soaked from her fight to the death. The taste would have been disgusting to other, feebler cats, but she lapped it up with relish. She closed her eyes, and began…

Chapter 1
Havenwatcher let out a screech as the queen’s hindquarters trembled, her blue eyes so wide with fear, a white ring showed around the iris. The tabby she-cat had been kitting since dusk, and her wails rang through the camp as her kits fought a battle to the light inside her.

Swallowbeak stayed in the nursery with the pregnant cat, wearing an expression of pure consternation. She was exhausted, but it was her duty to help her Clanmate through this fight, as the dappled orange cat was the medicine cat of WinterClan. Fenneldust paced in circles near the entrance, his black ears flattened to his head. His golden spotted fur was fluffed out to twice its size, and every once in a while, he stuck in his head anxiously to check on his mate.

Swallowbeak sighed. Havenwatcher was exhausted, and yet there was two more kits to go to meet the living. The ones who were born, a small tom and she-kit, were mewling in protest as spasms wracked the body they were trying to nurse from.

Suddenly, a spasm passed, and out forced a large black she-kit, letting out a loud yowl. Havenwatcher stared at the kit in surprise, then twisted in agony again, one last kit to be born.

Finally, a she-kit slithered out, silver and graceful, letting out mewls as she was being shoved by her sister. Havenwatcher moved the little kit next to her brother.

“Have you named them?”

Havenwatcher blinked up to look at Swallowbeak, and mumbled, “I name the black kit Blackkit, and the pale beige tabby tom, Stagkit. The little silver kit is Beautykit, and the last she-kit is Tawnykit.” She touched the last kit’s tortoiseshell head, and it wriggled closer, seeking her milk, and letting out purrs.

Swallowbeak looked up, and hissed as Fenneldust barged in, his eyes wide with amazement. “Are they okay?” He flung himself down by his mate, lapping her ears. “They’re beautiful, beautiful!” he kept repeating, then stared at the black she-kit who twisted and tumbled, a sour expression on his face. Swallowbeak looked at him in alarm. Why did the tom express such a look to the she-kit? Was something wrong with her?