The Old Tradition [Light!]

[× Vulture ×]

A massive tomcat padded into RogueClan's nursery, powerful muscles rippling beneath his sleek white pelt. Jet black paws carried him stealthily across the ground, until --

"Fox dung!" Falcon cursed. His blind eyes looked down at his paws, though more endless depths of blackness was all he could see. He'd tripped over a stick or a stone; who knew what it could've been when you couldn't see as much as your own whiskers? The RogueClan warrior's eyes had been clawed to the point of permanent blindness in a battle with ThunderClan, which had been the idea of the sinister RogueClan leader, Darkness. He was evil, so dark-hearted that he was one of the few cats ever in existence to actually reach their ambitions. RogueClan had taken over all the Clans with the help of huge, muscular mountain cats.

Chaos had finally been unleashed.

Newborn kits were being taken away from their mothers; helpless elders were being murdered merely because they couldn't serve RogueClan like warriors; two leaders had been exiled, and now the same thing was happening to the medicine cats. Nothing was the same as it had been, and Falcon, the only RogueClan cat who supported the Clans and followed their traditions, had accepted that it would be like this -- pure horror that overpowered everything -- forever.

But Darkness had only gotten so close to victory. He joined the Dark Forest one day, forever to be lost in the imprisoning shadows that stretched on from every direction and hid the truth from their cold-blooded victims, who had paid the ultimate price for burning their hearts down to cinders. Night, a cat seemingly even more evil than Darkness, had taken over RogueClan after the leader's death, even though he had promised the rank of leader to Deathblood. Now the sinister tom was keeping the nightmare they all had to live through in pristine condition, never letting one soul free.

Falcon blinked, the darkness his yellow gaze always stared into the same as when his eyes were open. He sighed, his breath quivering in furious sorrow. This wasn't right. This was hell. But no one could stop it.

A single tear of burning anger and pain for others dampened his fur. As it fell to the ground, he let his legs crumple underneath him so that he was laying awkwardly in a soft nest of moss and grass, staring straight ahead into the same nothingness of which was Darkness's fault for starting all this in the first place. Waiting for his mate Blossomblood to join him like she'd said she would, he hoped and prayed to StarClan with all his aching heart that light would someday reign over Darkness...

[--Light of the Sea ☼]

Blossomblood looked up as her mate entered the den. She flinched as her amber eyes met his sightless gaze, still not used to the ghostly look and scratched eyes the tom carried around with him. She flicked her ears, carefully trying to conceal the worry and aggravation that his blindness caused her. The white she-cat was young, foolish, and headstrong, and like many headstrong foolish cats, tended to throw herself into things without thinking about them...

Slowly and clumsily, the expecting she-cat hobbled to her feet, her growing belly swaying. "Falcon," she greeted her mate cheerfully, before making her way towards him. "You made it."

Truthfully, Blossomblood was annoyed by the handicaps that had struck the couple, around the same time. She considered them crippled, by the ones they had once considered their worst enemy. She licked her belly, wondering how many kits would come, and what they'd look like.

Eventually, the she-cat collapsed next to her mate. She glanced at him, evaluating her position. There was no light to glance off the single tear on Falcon's face, so the she-cat did not catch it. Instead she briefly stroked him with her muzzle and settled down into a more comfortable position. "You seem unhappy," she guessed, noticing his distracted and distraught expression.

[× Vulture ×]

((SORRY!!!))

Falcon jumped as he suddenly heard Blossomblood's voice in front of him. He'd thought she was in the camp, getting fresh-kill or basking in the patches of sun that blotted the clearing. But apparently she was already in the nursery, waiting for him instead of how it had started off.

"Falcon," Blossomblood greeted her mate. "You made it."

He was briefly pierced by her words. He knew she meant nothing by them like she would have if they were still arguing enemies instead of a couple, but being the sensitive cat he was he couldn't help taking what she said to heart. You made it. Like he would have trouble. Because he was blind...He could always sense when Blossomblood was uneasy with his disability; he would imagine her staring at his emotionless scratched eyes, cringing and drawing back.

His ears pricked as the she-cat rose from her nest. He could hear her uneven pawsteps, and knew she was swaying unsteadily, her enlarged stomach making balance difficult. For she and Falcon were going to have kits; every time he thought about it, he would throb with excitement at the idea of being a father. If anyone tries to take our kits away, I'll personally claw their ears and tails off, he thought determinedly. Even if I am blind!

Blossomblood padded over to him and laid down awkwardly by his side. "You seem unhappy," she observed in concern.

He could feel her inquiring gaze against his fur. "How can I be happy when all this is going on?" Falcon growled, resting his head on his front paws. A sigh escaped him. "I can't believe I ever trusted Darkness. How could any of us have been so stupid...? Just because we're in RogueClan, it doesn't mean we have to be evil cats out to destroy the Clans. Why did Darkness have to make it that way?" He lifted his head back up, staring into the direction where Blossomblood's scent was strongest. "And now Night is continuing it." There was a long pause; even the virtually silent decapitation of leaves from tree branches now that leaf-fall had arrived could be heard. "What will happen when our kits are born, Blossomblood?" he murmured, his voice tense with distress, yet soft with despair. "W-will they be stolen from our sides? Will they be killed without even being given a chance to experience life? Why do things have to be this way?" That was a question he asked often, whether it was to himself or to another. But he rarely got an answer. Because even if they wouldn't admit it, nobody knew why innocent blood was being spilled.

[--Light of the Sea ☼]

[Wheeee!]

Blossomblood paused and listened to Falcon's words, occasionally giving her belly a lick. The tom's sightless eyes were nevertheless pierced with anger and fright, as he stared off into an unknown distance. She nudged his shoulder, trying to be as kind as the merciless she-cat could be.

"Why do things have to be this way?" Blossomblood repeated his words. "I know you're not expecting much of an answer. However, I can take a guess, even if it turns out to be a mistake." She settled comfortably against her mate, kneading the ground. "For some, it's only but a need to survive. In this forest, it's kill or be killed. Darkness, I think, took the meaning of that and expanded it for something new." She paused, and took a deep breath, checking for any of Falcon's emotions in the air. "I know that's not what you meant, though. I'm not sure why others do it. Who can say why some cats feel the way they do?"

Blossomblood was one of 'those cats,' and she knew it. The white cat thought Falcon knew it too, but he seemed to be lost in some sort of nightmare. She didn't dwell on it too long, however, and chose to speak again.

"As for our kits, if any other cat tries to lay a paw on them, I'll rip them to shreds. These kits will survive." Blossomblood flexed her claws against the ground, sheathing and unsheathing them.

[× Vulture ×]

It wasn't the answer Falcon had wanted, but he knew his mate meant well no matter what she said.

"As for our kits, if any other cat tries to lay a paw on them, I'll rip them to shreds. These kits will survive."

Falcon smirked. "That's my Blossomblood; as tough as a rock." He purred, beginning to groom his chest fur. He was calm again, and the troubling thoughts of Darkness were ebbing away.

"Would you like some fresh-kill? You must be hungry. I could go get you some," he offered.

((Sorry. I didn't really know what to say. I'm brainlocked. Dx))

[--Light of the Sea ☼]

((I can never decide to laugh or cry when I see your avatar. =P))

"Would you like some fresh-kill? You must be hungry. I could go get you some," Falcon suggested after complimenting Blossomblood's stubbornness. At least, Blossomblood assumed it was a compliment; Falcon was her mate, after all. She brooded for a moment, giving her stomach another lick.

"Mm. I'm not actually that hungry," she replied to the offer. "But thank you." Those were not words that left the cat's mouth very often, and because of that reason the meaning was amplified. The white she-cat chose a topic more suited to her tastes. "So, the kits," she said. "They'll need names, won't they? What do you think?"

((Don't worry about brainlocks, this post isn't very good either - I think it might just be because I'm lazy though. At least we can start the arguing now.))