“Hello again, Webstar.”
The scarred white tom sat unassumingly at the entrance of the den, slowly flicking his tail. If Webstar wouldn’t have known better, he would have thought him completely harmless.
“Snowsoul.” Webstar returned, with a curt nod.
“Snowstar, mind you.” He corrected, his tone icy. After a pause, he narrowed his eyes, crouching low to the ground. “Let’s get to business, shall we?”
And with that he barreled the Tideclan leader over, claws ripping into his fur.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - ☼ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
By the time Webstar could think clearly again, Snowstar had been dead for several minutes.
Webstar blinked, wincing. His whole body burned like it never had before, and he struggled to stand, every muscle under his pelt throbbing in pain. He blinked again, raising a paw to rub at his eyes, but nothing would come into focus -- all he could sense was blurry, bewildering, darkness.
“By Starclan, what has happened to me?”
