The challenge is simple. Write a small to medium fanfic that explains why Greytuft hates Mistynight so much. Title it: Hated (Your Username).
The winners fanfiction will have a special appearance in this, and any of their OCs to play an important role. Also.... depending on the quality of the winning piece, I may let you decide if Misty x Maple, or Misty x Dream, but that's only if the writing is ESPECIALLY good!
All competitors will receive a reward. Write well!
'I shall never be free from His shadow. See how I refer to him as a God? He has been a God since the moment I was born, yet to me he is more of a demon. What kind of God would inflict all this suffering upon me?'
There are some things you don't question. Like the direction water flows, or the fact that rain goes down, not up. Or the fact that StarClan is good, and the Dark Forest is bad, or that the Clan leader deserves their position. Probably one of the biggest things that we refuse to question is the Warrior Code. If it says we must hunt for the elders and kits and simply members of our Clan over ourselves, we do it. If it says that a medicine cat can't take a mate, and one does, we scorn them. But is it really right? Doesn't it take over our lives, twist them and make each life in all the Clans the same? Doesn't it crush independence, allowing us to blindly follow whatever the leader wishes? The code is oppressive and wrong. At least, that is what I tell myself each night. I am still not certain that this justifies my actions. For I am a Codeless warrior in a Code obsessed world. I have done more to destroy the code then any Clan cat before me can claim.
'I am trapped in a living nightmare. I killed myself to escape from it all, yet woke once more in new hunting grounds. I do not think I shall ever be free, not like all the other cats. I hear these new hunting grounds are for good cats, those who need to be rewarded. I do not believe them. For I am far from good.'
I woke with a start. I am generally a light sleeper, but for some reason that night I had slept like a log. Maplebranch was standing near me, grinning at the sight of me disheveled and tired. I narrowed my eyes at him, considering giving him one of my legendary glares, yet decided against it. I did not want my reputation as grumpy to last my entire life. I got to my paws and stretched, my back arched at my mouth open in a soundless yawn, then began my morning ritual. I licked one paw until it was wet, and scooped it around my ears, cleaning my head, which my tongue could not reach. I then did this to my other front paw, and used it to wash the other side of my face. I did this until I was certain my head was clean, and proceeded onto my back, After a while, I looked up and noticed Maplebranch still standing there. He had an odd expression on his face, like he wanted to help me reach the base of my tail, which I was struggling to clean at that moment, and yet felt embarrassed at wanting to help. I sighed, and beckoned him over with a flick of my tail. He scampered over, seeming happy, and we began to share tongues. Once we were both moderately clean, we began to talk.
"Why did you wake me up?"
The ginger tom adopted an awkward, scared, guilty and apologetic expression. I couldn't tell if it was genuine or not. He was getting too good at hiding what he was really thinking. I suppose he learned from a master... me.
"Oh... yes... you were supposed to go on the Dawn Patrol..."
His voice trailed away. I still couldn't tell if he was faking it. I decided to act like he was. If he wasn't, no harm done. If he was, I had discovered something. I was young, but all those moons of betrayal and death had left a permanent mark upon me.
"I suppose we'd better get up," I mewed, studying his face intently, searching for a slight trace of disappointment, or glee. I got more then a slight trace of disappointment. His whole face fell, which I found especially suspicious. What kind of cat actually covered their whole face in sadness when someone just says they should stand up? I stood up and left the den, not looking back to see if he would follow. I already knew he had.
'Trust is what gets you kiiled. Believe me, trusting someone is a death sentence. At least, that is how it is for me. I hear some people actually rely on trust and love. I wish I could say the same. Yet my life has been one series of betrayals. I have lost the ability to trust.'
Greytuft surveyed me, his cold amber eyes boring into me, exposing me for who I really was.
"Stickstar!" he called to our leader. "I don't think Mistypaw deserves to go to the Gathering tonight."
Stickstar looked over me quickly. His green eyes were far more gentle, yet I already knew what he would say. What he always said.
"I suppose you know better then I, Greytuft, and since she is your daughter, and you know her better then I, I shall take your word for it. Mistypaw, go to the Apprentice's Den."
I dragged my feet, and walked slowly towards the den, casting resentful looks over my shoulder at Greytuft. He watched me with those cold amber eyes, and whispered, "The Code is falling."...
I woke, and almost yowled out loud. Two yellow eyes were hovering over me. In the darkness of night, I could not tell who it was. They were scentless. Suddenly I felt a pain in my side, like claws. I tried to yowl in pain, but the yellow eyed cat shoved their paw in my mouth. After struggling for a while, the cat sat on my throat, crushing my windpipe. All of this was silent. I blacked out with the heavy weight of the mystery cat stil upon me.
'Isn't it a comfort knowing that they all hate you? That you cannot prove anything? That if you don't do what they want they will kill you?'
"Wake up Mistynight! You've got to go on patrol!"
I came to in the medicine cat den. My side was aching, and my throat felt like Dreamheart had sat on it. Who was that speaking? Clawthorn?
"Clawthorn?" I asked. The tom grunted. I supposed that was a yes. I attempted to stand, but the wound in my side burned. I knew I would not be able to leave the medicine cat den. Yet I must, or Greytuft would surely kill me. I tried to stand once more, and was unsuccessful once more. Clawthorn growled, making my ears throb. I understood he would call Greytuft if I did not manage to join him on the patrol. If Greytuft came, my short life would be over. Finally, on the third attempt I managed it. I got to my paws, legs shaking uncontrollably. I glanced at my side, and the sight made me want to vomit. The fur was torn away, revealing my flesh. The medicine cat, Nightdream, had obviously tried to patch it up, but the few cobwebs plastered to my side seemed so pointless compared to how large the wound was. Pus oozed from the deeper scratches along my side, glistening yellowish green in the midday sun. Clawthorn, much to my satisfaction, looked nauseated.
I followed him out into the clearing. Silence fell as all my Clanmates noticed I was there. Personally, I don't think most of them hate me. I think they are just too scared of my father to act otherwise. Dreamheart, the mousebrain, strode up to me like we were friends.
"Hi Mistynight! Oooh, look, you've got pus coming from your flank! It looks gross!"
I glared at him. He did not take the hint.
"You know, my Dad once got a gash like that! He came stumbling into our den and was all like, 'I tripped on a stick,' and my Mum was like, 'Oh no!' and I was like, 'I bet you ran into a badger!' and he was like-"
"Mistynight is wanted on patrol."
I wasn't sure if I was glad or not that Clawthorn had interrupted Dreamheart. Although the white tom was an utter mousebrain, he was still nicer to listen to then Clawthorn growling at me.
"Yeah," I confirmed. I was happily surprised by how steady my voice sounded. "Leave me alone, mousebrain."
I did feel kind of bad at how disappointed he looked at my words, but a shrugged it off. He wasn't my friend. I had no friends, only those stupid enough to try to befriend me, yet were pushed away by me. I could not allow any more deaths of those I cared about. For somehow I still did care about others.
I marched out of the camp, ready to patrol and hunt, the eyes of many cats upon my back.
'I remember the times when I was the one being betrayed. Betrayal and betrayal, it is a relief I am still this sane. Now I am the one doing the betraying. Remember this, it is best to betray one before they can betray you. For they all wish to betray you, even if they hide it well.'
"Uh, hi Mistynight, I bought you a um... I bought you..."
Blushing like crazy, Maplebranch dropped a plump vole at the foot of my nest and hurried away. I watched him leave, rather exasperated. Appleleaf, the medicine cat, purred in amusement. Sadly, I understood why. It seemed Maplebranch and Dreamheart were 'competing' for me. Every single day one of them would do something for me. Maybe bring me fresh kill, or clean out my nest, or help Appleleaf tend to the wound in my side. It had been a quarter moon since I had gotten it, and Appleleaf said it was healing quite well. I knew I would be scared for life, but to be honest, I felt extremely lucky. I had survived, when I surely should havedied. From that moment on, I called myself the Survivor.
'I think I am insane. I hear voices when there are none, and I see a threat in everything. I should not be surprised by this. When you are shunned from society, odd things happen. Guilt and dread mess with you. It is a wonder I am still this sane.'
I glared at Greytuft from across the clearing. He pretended not to have seen me, yet I knew he had. He tensed slightly. The change was miniscule, yet it was enough. He knew I was there. Now the whole Clan would treat me like dirt. And fresh dirt at that. Well, the whole Clan apart from Maplebranch and Dreamheart. I carefully walked through the camp, stepping daintily and delicately. Perhaps it seems odd that I decided to do this. Try to manipulate my Clannates emotions so that I dl not seem as much of a threat. It is not odd though. Far from it. Of course I try to make some like me. Far too many don’t, and I am sick of Greytuft controlling my life.