These beautiful lines are by Cerulean Wake.
"Every cat has a dark history, there's no point in running from yours, dear brother." - AppleLynx
Mild Gore Warning
Deerspot could feel the darkness growing deep within him like an infection. The cold emptiness deep within that gnawed at his stomach and clawed at each bone, surely leaving deep gouges on each one it attacked. There is no fighting the black once it has taken hold, you can only give in. Deerspot had been trying for seasons to fend off this shrouded intruder that was taking hold in his own mind, shadowing his thoughts with ideas of blood.
Take what is yours.
This hunger was new, unlike the pains of having missed a meals to many. No, this hunger was starvation of the mind, a sick and desperate need that even the most strong-willed can't resist. Deerspot graved blood, but not the taste of it upon his tongue, rather the feel of letting another cat's life-blood leak between his claws, the warmth washing away the cold emptiness that was all that remained within him.
The star is yours
Deerspot looked down at the dead cat beneath him, golden fur stained with a deep crimson, but he didn't look upon it with disgust, only contempt and satisfaction that no good meal could bring. He dipped his head and tore at the soft belly, devouring his kill eagerly like some savage beast, the red life-blood staining his white muzzle a harsh red. Lionstar lay dead beneath him, mouth agape and eyes empty, sad and confused.
DeerStar. DeerStar. DeerStar.
And then DeerSpot jolted awake, panting and confused. He looked wildly around and saw his mate curled up beside him. He let out a soft sigh as he touched his nose to LionStar's head. He paused a moment as if some memory had come back to him as he looked down at the golden-furred tom asleep below him. He shrugged it off and went to organise the morning patrols. The trees whispered and sighed softly in the breeze.
It is foretold. DeerStar. DeerStar.
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