..there were stars in her eyes. (warriors fanfic || critiques appreciated)

Night had fallen, and the moonless sky was pitch black. Shadows danced against the four stumps of what were once mighty oak trees, standing tall and proud around a large, jagged rock. The clearing was now dirt, dry as sand, for the once-green grass had been stripped away. The stars were dim at the painful sight: what was originally the gathering place of the fearless warrior cats was now just another dump, wrecked by twolegs.

A tom cat walked silently amongst the wreckage, his darkened eyes matching his weary, solemn face. His ebony paws, which contrasted from his bone white pelt, made soft thumping noises as they hit the earth, but other than that, the night was unnatually quiet. Silent, even. After the twolegs deserted the once-forest, discovering that the oil they desired wasn't to be found here, it was completely empty. Not even the most foolish of prey animals would venture here, especially since any decent sort of food was miles away.

But the cat... he didn't come here to live, as that was impossible. He came here to pay respects, and to die. Even if he stayed back in his new home, he would still die, or suffer a fate worse than death. To become evil.

He lifted up his head, mouth opening to check the area for any scents. Upturned dirt, moistness in the air, and crowfood, probably crushed by the twoleg monsters. No signs of life, just signs of death. Even the rare patches of grass he did find were dry, crumpled, and dead-looking, like patches of smushed straw.

Closing his eyes, he imagined the night sky as it had been many moons ago, back when the great Bluestar was still breathing. A deep, rich blue, shining with thousands of bright white stars. A reminder that StarClan was watching over them... oh, StarClan. Where did they go? Were they watching over them still, from a safer section of the skies, farther away from Earth?

His paws ached, and he knew he couldn't stand it any longer. He was the age of an elder now, too old to pace around like he was. The last time he saw his reflection, he noted that he was smaller than he had been. His bones were frailer, his claws duller, his muscles less prominent, and gray fur surrounded his muzzle. But he still had the sprit and the endurance of a young warrior, and that would last him until he died, which wouldn't be long now.

He struggled to climb up onto the High Rock, but he managed to pull himself up after a few moments. Memories of happiness twinkled in his eyes for a second, but then they were dark again. His face was still that of a tired, elderly tom who searched restlessly for peace, and for many moons too, but still couldn't find it. He could barely sleep, for nightmares still haunted him.

Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something moving. Something that hadn't been there before. He whipped around, heart racing and head pounding, both from fear, which he had never truly expirienced before. That fluttery feeling inside that made him shiver like he was cold. Fear. Whatever it was, he wanted it to stop. He wanted it to be over. Couldn't he just die already?

Then, his own shadow began to twist and move. His heart leaped, doing backflips in his chest, and he couldn't help gaping at the sight. It expanded into a cat about the same size he was when he was younger, with the fiercest pair of eyes he'd ever seen. Only they weren't amber, like he had remembered them, but a wicked black, like some sort of nightmare creature. Reddish shadows enveloped it, like some sort of shield. It's grimy brown tabby pelt was several shades darker, and matted with what appeared to be blood. Blood-tinged claw marks cascaded across it's chest. Except it wasn't an it, it was a he.

The shadow cat didn't have to say anything. He had visited before, and the elder knew what he had to offer, as well as his price.

"Kill me if you wish," the living cat spat, his voice croaky and hoarse from lack of speaking. "But I beg of you, don't turn me into one of your evil slaves."

"First of all, they're not slaves, they're warriors of the greatest clan known to the cats. Aside from that, are you positive? Youth, power, untold strength- it's all yours if you agree."

The offer tempted him, but he knew what he'd have to pay for it. Driven by defiance and maybe a little fear, he hissed back, venom in his voice, "No. Leave these sacred grounds."

"Fine, fine, I'll leave your precious dump, but I have a question first," the demonic cat huffed. "What happened to the one they called Blackfoot, the strong, fearless, sharp-clawed deputy of my adopted clan? Right now, all I see is an old, weak, goody-two-shoes FOOL! Let me speak with Blackfoot..."

Before the elder could react, the demon's shadowy eyes turned blood red, and they glowed furiously. The living cat could feel the life ebbing out of him, being sucked into the shadows like dust is sucked into a vacuum. Suddenly, he collapsed, yet as soon as he touched the ground, he vanished.

A sly smile flickered on the shadow cat's lips as another dark sillhouette began to fade into existance beside him. It was nearly the same size as him, muscular, and sharp-clawed, with bone-colored fur and ebony paws. His eyes, however, were pitch black, and he was protected by a barrier of night. As he grinned, his fangs were visible.

"Welcome, my friend," the first demon greeted, then they both blended back into the shadows until they disappeared completely.