The Ghost of Corrupted Blood

''note: this is just because why not. i want to see if i can finish this possibly-short story. please enjoy it, i guess?''

Part One: Sighting
A cat was hunting.

He was a rather kittypet-looking cat. Blue-grey fur that seemed to glimmer, startlingly blue-green eyes...

But, at the same time, his fur was not quite like a kittypet's. Actually, apart from his unique colouring, Miststep wasn't much like a pet cat at all. No collar, for one thing.

If you had asked him, the warrior would've given you a tap on the nose with his paw. (He is descended from kittypets, brought here from another land, but please, don't mention it around him. After all, 'a warrior rejects the soft life of a kittypet'.)

Miststep was one of the older warriors, a warrior of WindClan. He was careful, and strictly followed the Warrior Code. He had an apprentice, but he wouldn't become deputy just yet. He'd be patient. Besides, being one of many warriors rather than the only deputy seemed like it would be... less lonely. There is quite a lot that can be said about Miststep's name could be interpreted as sounding like 'Misstep'.

Mostly, though, he was named 'Misstep' for one reason - he was so quiet when walking that he had given many a cat quite a fright. Even Adderclaw, the inquisitive warrior famed for her sharp ears, had once been so spooked by a simple "hello" that she ran half-way across the entire camp before thinking to turn around. The two had laughed about it, afterwards. Well, Adderclaw had laughed and Miststep had just made that quiet chuckling sound that seemed to be his version of a 'laugh'.

Now, though, the grey cat was hunting. He had a rabbit in his sights, seemingly unaware of the fact that its life would soon run out.

Just a bit closer.

A bit closer.

Just a bit....

He pounced, briefly worrying if WindClan actually needed any more prey. It would be a terrible, terrible waste for him to bring back prey that they didn't need just yet, but may need later.

...

A moment later, the tom was standing there, the rabbit held somewhat clumsily in his jaws. He could feel blood, seeping from between his teeth. He hated it when the prey's blood dripped down his fur. It felt so strange, or was it just him?

He shook his head, and started to turn back towards where he knew the camp was.

But something caught the corner of his eye.

...

The wind wasn't stirring. Even if it was, he wasn't entirely sure if it would stir the distant figure's fur.

It was a cat.

A cat that was too far away for him to see if it was a tom or a she-cat. A calico cat, so probably a she-cat. Miststep was fairly sure he remembered that correctly - the medicine cat, Owlheart, seemed to examine the kits quite a lot. And he distinctly remembered that, once, a calico she-kit had been born. Owlheart had mentioned later that day to Miststep that he knew the she-kit would be a she-kit. He'd said something about how he had seen lots of calico she-cats before, but only one or two calico toms. Miststep wasn't as interested in those sorts of mysteries, but it was nice that Owlheart seemed to have something to do in his spare time - mostly, the 'something' seemed to be attempting to count the cats in the clan.

The calico cat was sitting, and it was possible that its tail was twitching slightly. It stared at him with strange eyes, ones that unnerved the older tom.

[WIP]