A lithe shadow moved silently, gracefully over the crest of the hill, nearly flattened to the ground, two blazing amber eyes shining. The night sky, with the brilliance of Silverpelt and the crescent candle that was her namesake, glittered high above her head, casting the world in ethereal light. Her short, sleek coat shone in the light of star and moon, the smokey, almost black gray turned near silver in the shifting light. Only her ivory paws broke the darkness, small and soft, though hiding deadly knives. As she moved, the gusting wind plastered her pelt to her sides, showing every liquid-like movement, every seamless step.

Moonpaw was training to become a warrior. That was all that filled her mind. The fact that she was the 'beauty of WindClan' meant near to nothing to her. Every hunting trip, every battle practice, every leap, every stride, every beat of her heart, was made for that goal. She wanted to serve her clan, she wanted to do her best. Whether or not she was the best within her clan, or the best around the lake, she didn't care. She wanted to reach her limit. She yearned, desperately, to reach that fine line that would be the most she would ever do. And cross it.

But then she paused, lifting her head high to scent the strange, almost rank smell in the air. Her eyes widened, ears flicking back against her head, the fur along her spine tingling. So far in her life, she had not learned this scent, but instinct, buried deep within every cat, took over. Whatever it was, it was dangerous, and it was close.

A paw-step reached her ear, muffled by both the soft ground and the whipping wind, but a paw-step, behind her. Moonpaw whirled around, her pelt on end, eyes narrowed, and a snarl forming across her dark muzzle. It was a lean form that met her eyes, tall and large, long, and a bright ginger in color. It had a long, thin snout, and a bushy ginger tail, ending in black, as did all four of its paws. And, in the seconds it took her to take its dark form in, it barreled toward her.

Without hesitation, she dodged to the side, its long, narrow muzzle snapping closed on open air inches from her shoulder. She twisted and leaped, her movements almost like some strange dance. But this was no dance, no game. Moonpaw could see the deadly intent blazing in the creature's eyes. Landing on its shoulders, she dug her thorn-sharp claws deep, biting down, hard, on the back of its neck. A fierce sound erupted from it, and it swung around, trying to dislodge the painful burden, but she held on tightly, somehow knowing that this was one of the few positions where it would be much harder for her opponent to reach her.

But suddenly she was thrown from her perch, slamming into the ground with a sickening thud. Sharp fangs buried themselves in her shoulder, and her cry of pain rang loud across WindClan's open moorland, ripped from her muzzle by the gusting wind. She struck out at the creature's muzzle, both forepaws and hind-paws slashing fiercely at her attacker. With a savage cry, it jumped back, away from the stinging claws, and she immediately pushed at the ground, rolling quickly away and using the momentum to regain her paws. Moonpaw's shoulder felt as if it was burning, and she could feel the cold trickle of blood as it trailed down her right foreleg. She hissed at the creature before her, only it didn't move to attack again. It didn't have to.

Thrown off balance from behind, Moonpaw was knocked to the ground once more, this time the needle-like teeth biting deep into her back, right below her neck. Her yowl grew in intensity, a shriek, rising with the wave of pain shooting through her. With the pain came one thought in a sudden icey clarity. There were two of them. They were larger, and stronger, faster and more experienced.

More teeth grabbed at her, the other joining its partner, and the pain shot up her hind-leg. The already dark world, now scarcely lit as rolling clouds were blown across the sky, seemed to grow darker, her fierce amber eyes losing their light. She couldn't even feel each attack anymore, just felt the waves of injury and pain sweep through her. She struck out at them somewhat feebly, but she doubt her claws even connected. But then her eyes cleared again, her ears ringing with the battle cries of her clan mates, of the warriors of WindClan, and she saw the group of cats clash with the ginger creatures, but she couldn't move from where she lay, torn and broken and bleeding.

Moonpaw closed her eyes, her breathing shallow, but she was still conscious, still aware of the sounds of battle. Then a victorious cry was taken up by those around her, but she didn't join in, she couldn't join in. She blinked her amber eyes, catching a glance of some cat walking toward her, recognition lost. The feline leaned down, fear and worry in their eyes, and her own closed once more, and she slipped away.