Post by aspenheart on Dec 27, 2017 2:36:05 GMT
Lucky sat silently. He hardly had strength to speak anymore. Here, he guarded the border between StarClan and the clans, or the clans and the Dark Forest. All three met here, in the Star Cave. The ice, some said, was from the cold hearts of the evil that lurked several foxlengths away. Others murmured that it was from the cold glares of the StarClan guards. Lucky knew both were lies. It was simply ice, that was all. The stars reflected in it, however... that was something special. He hardly had the form to appear, much less have any sort of tinge of color in his pelt. The deep scar across his throat twinged, and his eyes shifted up.
Prowling slowly along the far edge of the border was Beetlestar. The newer clans' first menace. Not the first to earn a place here, but the first to be a legend. His cold eyes fastened on Lucky. Blood still dripped down his pelt from the killing wound. The toms met eyes, and stared at each other for a long while. Beetlestar flattened his ears, and snarled over at Lucky, almost daring him to attack. He didn't. Then, the evil tom began to taunt him. Still, not a muscle twitched. He was far too old to be phased by such a thing.
To a living cat, this ordeal would have simply appeared as faint shadows in the ice, a quieting of the whispers. Only a skilled cat who visited one or both realms regularly would know what was really happening, unless they thought it wise to enter the worlds of the dead. So, here the pair remained, waiting for some poor living cat to make the choice between good and evil.
Prowling slowly along the far edge of the border was Beetlestar. The newer clans' first menace. Not the first to earn a place here, but the first to be a legend. His cold eyes fastened on Lucky. Blood still dripped down his pelt from the killing wound. The toms met eyes, and stared at each other for a long while. Beetlestar flattened his ears, and snarled over at Lucky, almost daring him to attack. He didn't. Then, the evil tom began to taunt him. Still, not a muscle twitched. He was far too old to be phased by such a thing.
To a living cat, this ordeal would have simply appeared as faint shadows in the ice, a quieting of the whispers. Only a skilled cat who visited one or both realms regularly would know what was really happening, unless they thought it wise to enter the worlds of the dead. So, here the pair remained, waiting for some poor living cat to make the choice between good and evil.