"Yeah, right. I'd doubt that." He sneered. Teased. Taunted. All Heronpaw could do was grovel as Yarrowtail snarled. Mostly because Yarrowtail was her dad.
Let me explain. No, really. This time I'm explaining.
Heronpaw is a small, white she-cat with amber eyes and black splotches. Whilst Yarrowtail is a dark black cat with yellow eyes and white paws. Now, Yarrowtail was huge, and burly, with rippling muscles and hooked claws. Heronpaw was exactly the opposite. Instead of a short tail, Heronpaw had a long and feathery white tail with a black dot here and there. She was small, and lithe, and quick on her feet, able to flip and dodge with any warning.
As for her claws? Well, Heronpaw had no claws.
Right now, Yarrowtail was teasing Heronpaw, saying she couldn't climb up the redwood and if she did she would fall with a single flick of her tail.
Alright, let me explain one more time. So, Yarrowtail and Heronpaw are part of a huge group of cats called the Cats of the Rising Gale. They live in an even bigger redwood, which had fallen onto its side, been hollowed out after decades by bugs, and was several miles long. The redwood was simply a home, the cats had no relation or respect for one another, and fights broke out constantly and everywhere. Now, this redwood used to be the tallest in the world, and, located on a pleasant, nature-filled island, it was a popular tourist attraction. Surrounded by heavenly meadows and sky-reaching redwoods, it was made for relaxation.
Until the redwood fell.
The shops closed. The island was abandoned, took over by wildlife. The meager group of scared cats multiplied into thousands. Soon, the island became a prey- and cat filled- place, with brambles and streams and meadows, all in the middle of nowhere. The cats had no leader, so they waited together, believing strength in numbers. This came of no use, since there were no enemies, but they stuck together for generations, until the fights came. They stayed together, of course, but they were unhappy.
Now, back to the present. Heronpaw had given up on Yarrowtail, and had sat down to groom herself. Yarrowtail was jeering uncontrollably, and Heronpaw's hatred for him was building by the minute. Pretty soon, she felt no love, and wanted to kill the mean black cat. This was when Heronpaw leaped and sunk her needle-sharp teeth into Yarrowtail's shoulder. Unbalanced, Yarrowtail fell onto his side, and Heronpaw began pummeling him with her paws. Yarrowtail tried to claw Heronpaw's face, but the paws proved too hard to beat, and Yarrowtail laid down. Heronpaw reared up, fury gleaming in her amber eyes. "This is for Lily. And for Kink." She growled. Smashing down with weird force, for a slim figure like her, she bit down hard on Yarrowtail's neck, but not before he managed to choke out a few words. "They- They aren't. They aren't dead. In- They are in oak." He flailed for a moment, panic shining in his eyes, then slowed to a sickening stop, blood trickling from the bite marks imprinted on his neck.
Yarrowtail, the grand, Yarrowtail the great, was dead at the paws of his own, murder-loving daughter.
Heron was on the loose.
