Chapter Text
Pawsteps like drops of lava sunk into the snow. The crackling and groaning of ice crumbling beneath their paws was like fuel to the fire as they traveled in a neat formation toward PenguinClan’s icy cold camp, their eyes burning with determination.
The warriors’ hackles rose as the generals led them in patrols to surround the camp. They stood at attention, feeling the icy wind nip against their short, heat-adjusted pelts. They couldn’t see any of their opponents through the thick snowfall, but the minty, fishy scent wafting into their noses told SpikeClan there were a multitude of battle-ready cats just waiting for them.
The halting of pawsteps around the camp eerily silenced the chilling air. Hundreds of scar-clad warriors stood in a neat formation around the camp, their tails bristled and their ears on alert. Contrasting the battle-scarred cats was a skinny, furless, ancient tom that trotted through a pathway in the middle of the army. His short tail flicked behind him and he ran his tongue over a yellowing snaggle tooth.
Nimbly he planted his paws before the army of warriors, his big ears swiveling back. “Behold,” he declared triumphantly, a grin not crossing his wrinkled muzzle. “The leader of SpikeClan!”
Silence echoed through the snowy forest, only broken by the sound of hundreds of pawsteps turning their well-trained formation toward their leader. With their eyebrows knitted and jaws clenched, the SpikeClan warriors waited patiently for their leader to make his entrance.
A large, tortoise-shell-furred paw crunched into the thick snow; black and orange fur against the blanket of pristine white. His pawsteps were loud and thundering, and the earth shook when he leaped all four paws into the pathway made by his warriors.
His thick tail lashed expectantly behind him as he stalked forward, fiery eyes burning holes into the camp below his massive form. His menacing huff was visible with the icy air puffing out of his nostrils; it was almost similar to a plume of smoke.
He let a low growl slither out from the depths of his throat, as he scanned the land before him. “Open the gates!” he demanded in a low, gruff voice. “Or die.”
Shadows of the PenguinClan cats rose in front of the SpikeClan warriors. They waited patiently, unsheathing their chipped and bloodstained claws—and they had to hold back a laugh when the short, fluffy, blue-gray leader revealed himself and his warriors with a determined look on his flat face. Baring his teeth, he locked soft eyes with hard ones.
“Attack!” he ordered loudly, his small warriors unsheathing their claws and charging toward SpikeClan’s bristling army.
PenguinClan was horribly outnumbered—the strong, battle-scarred SpikeClan warriors easily and angrily pinned their weak bodies to the snow. PenguinClan’s leader let out a frightened whimper and turned to his rival leader with a huff.
“That is but a taste of our fury,” he declared, with an embarrassingly determined face. Scorchstar couldn’t tell if the small cat was serious or not. “Do you yield?”
The warriors scoffed and Scorchstar chuckled. “I do not,” he sneered, his fiery gaze turning to the furless tom below him. With a quick yowl, the SpikeClan warriors overpowered the rest of the snowy cats, holding them down as the massive tortoiseshell tom and his warriors tore PenguinClan’s camp to shreds.
Scorchstar’s fiery eyes glittered deviously as they met the one thing he was looking for—a glittering golden flower believed to be sent from StarClan, by the name of the Superstar. If the wrong cat got their paws on it, the entire forest could be destroyed. Good thing it was SpikeClan’s now.
Horrified gasps and a desperate “no!” came from PenguinClan’s defeated warriors as Scorchstar leaped up shattered rocks to the fabled flower. Fiery eyes locked with the plant, he let out a triumphant cackle, his thick tail lashing behind him.
“I’ve finally found it,” he declared, his eyes wide with malice. “And now, no one can stop me!”