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A one-shot for Firey's contest. This will come at odds for the canon, but it's a different story all together.

Enjoy

Shadows flicker outside my prison. I blink, yawning, wondering what they were going to do to me this time. A gruff, furry face peered angrily at me.

"Come on. I haven't got all day."

I heaved a sigh and dragged myself to my paws. If you'd just let me go, we wouldn't have to do this. But I knew that was never going to happen. Wearily I plodded outwards, my ribs visible, my paw steps becoming more of an effort every new day. The other cat, who's name was SkyStreak, sat down.

"Now. Information. Then we can make your life less of a wreck," he mewed sharply.

I huffed.

"If I've held out so far, I won't break down anytime soon," I pointed out, which was a mistake. He raked his claws painfully across my flank, and I staggered.

"Take this filth out of my sight," he snapped. Wearily the guards herded me back to my "den", one giving me a brief sympathetic glance before leaving. I licked my wound, then curled up, trying to ignore the sharp pains in my flank.

The next day was much the same. But one thing was different. SkyStreak's lip curled in satisfaction.

"Looks like you might be out here sooner than you thought," he leered. I didn't let any flicker of emotion cross my face, which infuriated him. "Rrrgh... You do know your little friends are coming for you? On a suicide mission?" That got my attention.

Shade... She'd better not get hurt. I'd rip every one of these cats to pieces if she did. Despite myself, my lip curled wryly. I was in zero condition to do what I'd jsut mentally threatened. He snorted at my expression.

"Looks like you don't think they stand a chance," he commented. Abruplty I exploded towards him, and we turned into a whirling ball of teeth and claws.

I was utterly surprised when, despite my obvious lack of strength, I began to gain the upper paw. It was because of my warrior stamina, I knew. Then sharp claws grabbed my back. SkyStreak took the advantage to kick me hard in the stomach. Winded, I offered little resistance when they hauled my back to my prison.

Great. Now I was battered and bruised along with held in suspense and worry about them all. Ignoring my wounds, I paced inside my small prison, but was forced to stop when one of the guards yelled at me to stop making a racket. My reply was to flatten my ears, hiss at them, and lay down with my back towards them. Idiotic furballs.

~WIP

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