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DAWN was a spectacular sight. It was the one time of day where the sky could fully display its true colors. Gold arrived as if it were carried on the wings of a delicate butterfly, painting the forest ever so softly. The leaves whispered as warmth trickled from the sun and kissed them back to life. But the sights on the ground were very little compared to the picture in the sky. Billowing clouds were charmed by the sun, swept off into a golden hue. They floated carelessly across the heavens, having nowhere to go and nothing to do.

Larkmoon watched, fully bewitched by the sight. She wondered what it would feel like to be a cloud; though it seems angelic at first, clouds are quite sad. They don't belong to a home and are forever drifting for a place to belong.

Dawn was a slow burn. The Sun moved ever so carefully into the sky as if it pained him to do so. However, the Sky welcomed him with open arms, and alas, they were reunited. The slow suffering was taken away by the arrival of the day.

"Larkmoon," Called the tom with two suns for eyes. He gleamed golden in happiness, racing towards his she-cat with a smile she rarely saw. The large brown tom circled around her, his long fur trapping her into a warm embrace. Like the sun melting into the sky, Hollowhawk and Larkmoon were brought together.

Pressing his nose into her fur lightly, Hollowhawk asked, "What are you doing?"

"I'm watching the sunrise." She simply said, glancing between the great star and the little fires in his eyes. To her, they looked exactly the same. "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Hollowhawk's eyes flipped through the she-cat and the sun. They flicked back and forth, back and forth. Finally, the two yellow orbs in his head rested on Larkmoon. He gazed intently at her as if she was more beautiful to look at than the sunrise. "It is."

Larkmoon flushed, shying away from the handsome tom. Even though she had already asserted in her mind that being a cloud would be a sorry sight, Hollowhawk's words lifted her to cloud nine. Perhaps the billows weren't so bad after all.

A fierce breeze suddenly hunted its way through the trees and chased out the warmth from the morning. Hollowhawk surely felt the bitter cold, wincing as it clawed upon his fur. "Leaf-bare is coming soon. It's earlier than usual."

"I'll miss greenleaf, I don't want it to go," Larkmoon meowed softly, already mourning the death of her favorite season. The sweltering afternoons would soon be replaced by the snowy carpets, and everything soft and beautiful would be put do a freezing death.

Hollowhawk, standing to his paws again, fixed up his windswept fur and resettled his eyes on Larkmoon. There was a hidden knowledge in his features, hiding beneath his dark pupils and beneath his pointy whiskers. He declared, "You see, Larkmoon, beautiful things like greenleaf never stay away for too long." Hollowhawk smiled, "They will always find a way to live again."

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[please proceed with caution]

Evil creatures always had evil ways of hiding. And midnight was the perfect lurking-place. The sky's black envelope was sealed full of late secrets and the darkness was such an unwelcomed sight, no animal would spend too long of a time within it.

Though, Larkmoon wasn't sure where she was going. With her eyes still blurred by the curtain of sleep, the forest flashed by in an instant. Her mind slowly began to rouse and awakening to realize that she wasn't in a dream- she was truly running. Trying to stop, her paws wouldn't listen. Her brain was screaming 'slow down' but it was as though her legs were deaf. Larkmoon was thrown into a garden of confusion, her body was moving without her mind's control.

The night continued on eternally, the almost full moon painting a silver pathway through the woodlands. The stars sparkled hopelessly above her head, seeming as if they were a thousand eyes. They were all watching her all at once, following her every move and mistake.

Simply a spectator in her own body, Larkmoon had no other choice but to proceed. It wasn't long before she soon stopped by the lake, a place where she had appeared many times before. She listened to the familiar sound of the tides lapping against the shore and the dark water tumbling dangerously under the starlight. She felt like something strange was regarded by the lake, as if it were a home she kept returning to.

"Deadrush," An unfamiliar voice summoned with a growl. Shocked, Larkmoon whipped around, instantly facing the owner of the sound. There stood an elderly-she-cat, her legs wobbling as she struggled to stand up. Her eyes were so clouded, it was a surprise she could see anything before her. She spoke again, "I know it's you, brother."

Brother? Larkmoon's mind whirled at the suggestion. She wanted to object, to tell the elder, 'No, I'm Larkmoon!' Instead, her jaws cracked open and a voice that wasn't hers spoke, "Sister, I knew you would be the first to find me."

Deadrush's sister flicked her tail irritably while a glare formed from the shape of her blinded eyes. "And I will be the first to kill you," After a brief second, the she-cat added, "Again."

Larkmoon, or rather, Deadrush laughed. His cackle tortured the air, sending a wave of wounds through his sound. "Look how old you are and how alive I am!" It was true, he was living inside of the youthful body of Larkmoon while his sister's figure was troubled with time.

After his declaration, the stars in the sky were suddenly hidden by a cloth of fog. The endless eyes were disappearing, wanting to sleep through the next minute of this meeting. Deadrush shuffled closer to his sister, towering above her ancient figure proudly. They both gawked at each other, an unspoken history replaying in their eyes. The silent exchange between them was something Larkmoon did not understand. Deadrush rose to his words again, but this time, he whispered, "I have already won."

Larkmoon never thought death would be brought at such a quick movement. It was an easy flash of claws, quicker than a WindClan set of paws, and the elder's body fell lifeless to the floor. A brilliant red plasma pooled from beneath Larkmoon's claws, sticking to the bottoms of her pads. Still, with no control over her body, the she-cat was not strong enough to stop the devil inside her. Deadrush ripped apart the body, again and again, each ruthless strike causing crimson blood to spray across the floor. It was a thrilling passion! A power Larkmoon had never felt before.

She let herself get carried away in the feeling. She struck, again and again, not stopping until the elder's body was fully torn apart. And the damage was clear on the inside as it was on the outside; Deadrush was no longer present within her soul. Larkmoon had full control over her mind and claws, meaning that she was the one who butchered the elder.

Breath puffing in and out from her nostrils, the ginger tabby fought to return to herself again. Her veins were lacking blood and were instead filled by a monstrous desire to kill. She focused her eyes on the ground, watching as her red fur only became redder as the blood poisoned her paws. Like ivy wrapping around her neck, Larkmoon was hung in a noose of her gruesome actions. What monster was she?

Frozen in complete shock, all Larkmoon did was stand and stare. She was glued to the ground, too afraid to run. Abruptly, in a fierce autumn breeze, the first brown leaf fell. It trickled down from the twining branches, flowing gently as it was lured to the ground. Larkmoon pursued the leaf with her two brown eyes, studying it carefully as it dropped. She knew instantly what it meant: death was upon the forest. And this leaf-bare would be the coldest one yet. 

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