Dying Sun (Book One)

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Prologue:

His mouth was parted so that his perfectly sharp teeth were on display. His yellow eyes were glaring at the ginger tabby cat sitting in front of him. The ginger tabby was calmly licking at his chest fur in embarrassment; his mate next to him had his fur fluffed up defensively.  

“You never believed in me,” Crowfur hissed, his yellow eyes lighting up with anger. “You thought I was too passive to question you, but guess what Squirrelstar; you were wrong!” Crowfur unsheathed his claws, and let them dig into the leaf-covered dirt below him. “You are an unfit leader and you don’t make the tough decisions! You throw it all on me. I don’t see any reasons why I shouldn’t get rid of you here and now.” 

Squirrelstar looked up, only vaguely interested. His mate, Gannetfoot, unsheathed his claws as well. “Are you going to let him talk to you that way?” he hissed at Squirrelstar. His calico pelt was fluffed up in anger, and his green eyes were narrowed with rage. 

Squirrelstar only ducked his head, looking like a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. Gannetfoot scoffed, and sheathed his claws, before sitting down next to Squirrelstar and attempting to calm himself down. His tail tip twitched irritably as he watched his mate do nothing about what Crowfur was saying to them.  

“You’re no better. You’d have me killed so you could take my place,” Crowfur hissed. “I ought to kill you as well.” 

Gannetfoot stood up, his anger flaring to a boiling point. “You will do nothing, Crowfur! You aggravate and argue and tempt, but you are nothing but a coward!” Gannetfoot spat, the fur along his spine rippling.  

Crowfur laughed, sheathing his claws. “Your mate is no better! He wouldn’t fight to defend anything, including you,” Crowfur purred, amusement lacing his words. He found Gannetfoot’s temper amusing.  

Gannetfoot snarled and tackled Crowfur, who bared his teeth and struck Gannetfoot’s check with his claws. Gannetfoot hissed and backed away to be sitting next to Squirrelstar.  

“Are you just going to let your mate attack me?” Crowfur demanded; his eyes lit up with anger.  

“Are you just going to let this flea-brain hurt your mate?” Gannetfoot retorted, gently nursing the wound on his cheek with one of his paws.  

Squirrelstar stood up, his newly-groomed ginger tabby fur puffed out. “Of course not, but you’re both acting immature. I think we should all sleep and talk about this again in the morning,” he meowed. Crowfur stood up, his teeth showing again, and angrier than before. 

“No way,” he spat, “You’ll find a way to manipulate the situation so you come out on top again. I won’t fall for this ever again, Squirrelstar. Either step down or greet your ancestors.” 

Squirrelstar glared for a second, before he unsheathed his claws, and meowed, “Say hello to Poppyfang for me.” Then, he pounced.