Contest entry for WattyClans ! #WATTYCLANSWRITECOMP1
Little note: The poisoning happens around the end of the entry! Many apologies for the not-short length ;-; I got too carried away.
Words: 754
Words from entry: 732

Vengeance.
Avenge your sister.
Duskstrike glared at the fire-colored tom puffing his chest out proudly in the center of the camp.
Flamespirit.
He clenched his paws, sheathing and unsheathing his claws, from the other side of the camp. He could remember it, only three nights ago-

"Help me! StarClan, help me please!" Palesplash's face was stricken with pain, her features contorted. "It hurts!"
The medicine cats watched soundlessly, offering a stick to her, as her belly spasmed.
"Oh, Palesplash dear, it'll be fine, it'll be alright," Flamespirit crooned over her, smiling- more like smirking cooly. Duskstrike watched with horror, eyes widened.
It wasn't long before his sister lay breathless, with two kits by her side. Duskstrike felt pride course through him. He was an uncle!
"Congratulations, P-Palesplash!" He stuttered out. No reply. Flamespirit was grinning, as he inspected the kits. It wasn't long before there was an annoyed hiss.
"She's crippled! Look at her! Maimed! Ugly!"
Flamespirit snarled, picking up the other kit, a ginger tom. The medicine cats peered over and inspected the she-kit. Duskstrike peered over, and saw that her front paw was twisted, crooked... Almost broken. Flamespirit growled, "She's definitely not my kit! A monster!"
The new father left the den.
"Wait- Palesplash needs to nurse them-" Duskstrike started-
"Palesplash's dead, Duskstrike, dead," one of the medicine cats meowed dryly.
The world had broken in two, just like his niece's paw.
And that arrogant tom, that careless, false, rat-fanged mate- Flamespirit was already strutting the tom-kit to the clan.
"I'll- You'll be aven-avenged.." Shocked, Duskstrike croaked out, pressing his nose into his sister's cold fur. An equally-grief-stricken mew sounded beside him.
Brokenkit.

The memory twisted his mind, he needed to- he wanted to- Palesplash needed to be avenged. No more excuses would work, as Duskstrike glared at Flamespirit, the tom boasting about his new catch. Brokenpaw, his niece slid up against him, her gaze equally dark. He motioned for the apprentice to leave it to him, and she nodded, striding away. This has to be precise. This has to be accurately to plan, Duskstrike told himself as he started padding towards Flamespirit. The tom stopped speaking, and turned to look at him. The words didn't need to be said, they were already natural.
"Care for a little hunt?"

Flamespirit sniffed, "There's almost nothing here."
Duskstrike nodded shakily, "But not almost. We have voles, and mice, and thrushes..."
Use your claws! Claws! Now!
Duskstrike hesitated, unsheathing his claws, as Flamespirit turned towards him.
"You spotted something, Duskstrike?"
As if timing was just the best in the world, a low hiss vibrated from a nearby bush. Flamespirit nodded, and turned to leave. Strike him! Now! Do it. DO IT FOR BROKENPAW AND PALESPLASH! His mind screeched, urging him more and more. The tension between his claws, Flamespirit's turned back, the low hissing sound-
"Why?!" Duskstrike wailed as he leapt onto Flamespirit, pinning him down, "why?!"
The traitorous, rat-brained tom was gaping at Duskstrike, "W-what?!"
"You left her! You left Palesplash! She was there- your kits by your side- and Brokenpaw! Why-" Duskstrike dug his claws in deeper, "disown her for her LOOKS!?"
Flamespirit was gasping for breath at Duskstrike's weight, eyes round as his forest-green pupils dilated. Feel it. Feel the pain! Embrace it, Flamespirit, embrace it.. Duskstrike smirked with satisfaction, watching the cat he hated most squirm under his paws.

But what he didn't notice was the low-pitched hissing. The mother viper, feeling that her batch of eggs were threatened, slid over the earth, towards the two grappling cats, scales clinking smoothly. She let out another warning hiss, and the two cats did not budge. The only option left was to- strike.

Duskstrike didn't feel it at first. It was only a tiny scratch- it felt like. Then the power, the ferocity of the poison coursed through his blood. He screeched as he fell off Flamespirit, make it stop! He growled, he hissed, he groaned as he convulsed on the ground, the venomous sturdy liquid marching up his bloodstream, watching the rat-fanged tom stare at him with... Relief. STUPID, IDIOTIC TOM! HELP ME! He moaned, snapping his fangs at Flamespirit. The clatter of bronze scales slid away, as Duskstrike wailed, scrunching up his face in pain.
You were poisoned.
And there is no way you can get out of this now.