The Wrath of Kan (wuuut star trek)

      It was a still cold night, only a day since the death of Dawnflight's death and the birth of her kits. The clan had grieved, cleaning her still pelt and burying her near camp, and since then had again focused on preparing for the rouge attack. The camp walls had been strengthened with thorns and brambles as well as dens. The four kits had been kept warm and cared for by Silverpaw and Scorchtooth constantly. Since there were no other queens in the clan they had been moved to the Medicine Cat Den. Cats spent their time trying to catch enough prey to fill hungry bellies and the rest of their time training and prepping for battle.
     Ghoststar crouched in her den. She had been in there since the death of Dawnflight, only coming out occasionally before disappearing again. Darkmoon had taken control for the most part, though sometimes she would mysteriously disappear off into the tangled forest. Snakefang would keep things in order when the black she-cat was gone. He constantly worried for the clan and felt angry at Ghoststar's behavior. She was the leader of the clan. It was her job to encourage everyone and keep the faith up, and yet all she did was hide in her den. The dark tabby tom often visited her and tried to coax her out, but it was hopeless. Ghoststar was somewhere far and distant in her mind. The stress seemed to much for her.
      "Where's Ghoststar, I need to talk to her about the kits." Scorchtooth shook his pelt out against the cold as he asked Snakefang. The warrior looked towards her den.
      "She won't want to be bothered." He said, his amber eyes dropping.
       Scorchtooth scoffed, his tail lashing once. "Won't want to be bothered, eh!" He stormed through the thin snow to the leader's den. Snakefang would watch him duck through the hanging lichen, hear them argue for a moment, and then watch as he came back out with a scowl on his face. The clan was losing faith and hope. The rouge attack was looming over their head, the death of their only Queen, and the dim future of the weak kits. What are we going to do? 

      Ghoststar layed in her nest, curled into a small ball. Her gray eyes stared ahead and her breath softly moved her white fur. She couldn't hear anything except the deafening silence of her den. How could she let Dawnflight die? The she-cat was so young. She should be here to raise her kits. If Ghoststar had tried harder, if she had been a better hunter and taught others to hunt better she could have given Dawnflight more prey. She could have kept the tabby cat's strength up. Then she would be here. She wouldn't be dead and cold somewhere deep in the ground. It's all my fault. I'm not a good leader. 
      And what of the rouges? They are going to come and just kill more cats. They destroyed a tribe that had been living in that territory for many many moons. Twilightclan had only been living in the dark, tangled woods for a few moons. Most of the cats hardly had any experience with fighting. They would be slaughtered like mice. Ghoststar started to shiver, not because of the cold. It's going to be all my fault. I'm not a good leader. 
     And what of the kits? They had no mother now. They would grow up orphans. Who would give them the love and affection they needed? No other she-cat in the clan was kitting and thus no other cat had milk to feed the young ones. They needed milk to suckle. They needed a mother's warm fur. Scorchtooth had been keeping them comfortable in his den with Silverpaw but they would soon starve. They needed a mother who was milking. Their future was dark and seemed hopeless. And it's all because I wasn't good enough. I'm not a good leader. 
     Snakefang would come in often, trying to get her to go out and talk to her clan. Scorchtooth would do the same, but more viciously with his words. And yet Ghoststar couldn't. She couldn't stand in front of those cats knowing she had failed them. The moment push came to shove she fell. Starclan was wrong to give her nine lives. Wrong to trust her with such a task as taking care of a clan. What good was she? The stress was closing in on her, making her vision blurry. Her ears began to ring. The silence was violent.
   
     "MRROW!" The silence was suddenly broken by a yowl in the clearing. The sound of snapping twigs and shuffling paws filled the air a few seconds before hissing and growling replaced it. Ghoststar was on her paws in a second, all her before thoughts swiped away for the moment as adrenaline pulsed through her. The she-cat bolted out of the den, the moonlight setting her fur in a white blaze. Cats were tumbling around, their eyes wide and teeth bared as claws ripped at fur. Eyes flashed in the moonlight at the camp walls. Ghoststar realized what was going on. The rouges had come. There were many of them, but most couldn't get through the camp walls without getting their pelts torn. Some found holes big enough to fit through and it would be long before they discovered the entrance and stormed in.
     Snakefang sent a rouge running, holding clumps of fur between his claws. The cat escaped through a hole in the wall, and another rouge leaped in to replace him. "Ghoststar!" Her friend bolted to her side. "They're here, we have to have a plan!" His amber eyes were wild and his hackles were raised. Ghoststar's milky gray eyes looked over camp another time. He was right.
     "We have to have cats defend the entrance to try and keep them out; two cats. And two more defend the medicine cat den. The kits are in there. They're our priority." More rouges were finding their way into the camp. Snakefang nodded.
     "Spade!! You and I will guard the entrance!" The dark tabby tom yowled to his former enemy, racing to the thorn barrier and posing himself to fight. Ghoststar looked around for more cats. "Brownfur! Owlflight!!" She brought the two she-cats together. "You need to guard the Medicine Cat den now!" They looked at each other, knowing the kits were in there and bolted to their positions. The rest of the cats would just have to try and fight off any cats from camp. We'll all have to try and stay alive.
      Ghoststar felt her insecurities threatening to consume her again. She squinted her eyes, crouching. The sound of fighting faded from her ears. She felt a cat brush her pelt. It was the Starclan cat that had visited her before, her deep red pelt gleaming in the moonlight. "Foxstar!" She mewed, her eyes widening.
     "Ghoststar, you don't have time for this. You need to pull yourself together. Twilightclan needs you to fight for them. Cats fight as hard as their leader. They need your confidence." Foxstar's eyes were stern. Ghoststar felt ashamed. She was right. "Don't doubt yourself. We chose you because you can handle it. You deserve the nine lives we gave you. Show them that." The cat faded as quickly as she appeared, but Ghoststar could still feel her presence beside her and all the other cats that had given her a life. She would do it. She would fight for her clan bravely, despite her fears. If she was to fail, if they were to die tonight, at least they should go out fighting. With a yowl, she threw herself into the fray.


(So! Here's the battle that we've been building up for! I know there aren't as many rouges really as I implied but that's because we needed more cats to fight. So although we have a set amount of developed characters for the rouges, you can also play just random cats to fight because they have greater numbers let's pretend. haha There's a post on the rouge blog too to sum up whats happening with them, so let the role playing begin!)

I colored this for the scene yo. It looks pretty rad. Not my art work though haha