Warriors-Deceit of Kin ch.1

Chapter 1
The fighting cats yowled into the dark, foreboding sky. Their blood mingled in with the wet, muddy grass, turning the ground a sickly russet color. The pained and enraged yowls filled the air as a deluge of rain poured down on the warring clans. The sky was split by a slanting strike of lightning, which hit a tree and uprooted it from the ground. The attacking cats had no idea of this, for their minds were blinded by the engulfing rage of blood-lust. They longed to slash their claws into the enemies' pelts, to taste the salty tang of their scarlet blood as they tore their sharp teeth into the flesh of their enemy. Blood fell down like the cold rain drenching their pelts, soaking them to the skin.
The tree's long, deadly branches scraped at the ground as it crashed down, emitting a crunching sound from the wood and the cats that were caught bollow it. This sent the fighting cats into reality, and an engulfing fear finally struck their minds. They ran around the forest in a swarm of scared warriors and apprentices.
"The kits!" called a black, scarred tom that ignored his limp as blood soaked into his ebony fur. "Someone, we have to get the kits out of their den! Now!" His voice was like nails scraping against a chalkboard, truly horrid and screeching. He had a collar around his neck that was battered and torn, but still seemed to hold. Dogs' teeth were jutting out from it, indicating he was BloodClan leader.
An elder tom looked over to his leader, nodding his head swiftly as their eyes caught. He ran across the forest, blocking out all the pain, as he was trained to do. He dodged paws that threatened to rip open his skin and tear out clumps of his unkempt, brown fur. His amber eyes noticed a den made out of twigs that was keeping a surprisingly good hold. He leapt over the fallen and battered tree, his paws landing perfectly on the wet foliage. He ran over to the den blindly, crouching down and getting into it.
The den the BloodClan warrior had crawled into opened up into a vast den, making his eyes widen some as he crawled into it to get to the kits. The kits were mewling, their cries filling the den with a sort of blind fright. One was jet-black with a white chest and white paws, his blue eyes already open. On the other hand, his cream-and-white sister's eyes were still closed, her paws scrabbling at the dirt and grass as she swiveled her head around, searching for the opposer, but to no avail.
The grizzled, brown tom raised his head to look superior over them, his amber eyes glistening malevolently in the darkness of the den. "Well, well," he purred with amusement, "what do we have here? A pair of kits unguarded? Shame their parents are probably already dead." He smirked and stepped forward calmly, picking the two kits up in his wide mouth that was set with sharp, yellowing teeth.
The male kit squirmed in the elder's jaws, but he knew he couldn't break through on instinct. He stopped once one of the teeth sliced some through his pelt, a trickle of blood running down his leg. The kit screeched in pain, making a cat jump over to the den swiftly.
A shadow loomed over the elder. A cat with rippling muscles and strong legs looked at the elder with rage twinkling in his fair, golden eyes. "These kits will not be stolen today, Vladimir," he snapped, his muscles rippling under his cream pelt. "Their parents were killed by your clan," he added with a disdainful snarl.
The elder dropped the kits behind him, then faced the couragous warrior and smirked coldly. "Well, if it isn't Dustwind.... You never did calculate your positions, did you?" He laughed as cats began to surrond the two.
A cat streaked across the room towards Dustwind and grabbed him by the leg, crunching the bones in his jaws as he heard a yowl rip through the air. Another cat hit the warrior, this time clawing into his sides. Finally, another outcast dealt the death blow. He let his paw streak through the air as his claws found the soft flesh of Dustwind's neck, tearing into the flesh as blood swelled around them and in the air.
Dustwind yowled, his legs shaking as hell to the ground in a heap of fur and blood. He refused to close his eyes yet; his eyes were dull and clouding by the time he fell to the ground from the fatal blow. "Vladimir--our desputes aren't over.." He let out a gasp for the final breath, then let himself be lulled into an endless state of dreaming.
The kits were completely horrified at the scent of that foreboding and hot smell on their noses and lips. The brother, the eldest of the two, was glancing at the limp body as if he knew what the blood and the limp form meant. He finally spoke some. "Wh-where are you taking us, Sir?" he muttered quietly, his voice shaking with inevitable fear.
Vladimir looked at the kits with a scornful amusement. "Well, I'm taking you to your home. It's really nice and cozy," he coaxed the kittens. His shaggy tail twitched calmly.
He picked up the kits in his jaws and carried on towards the camp, swishing through the cats fighting and walking on to what seemed to be a day. He thought that the cats should have stopped fighting now, but he didn't know for sure. All that was on his mind was what great villains these two would make. He would teach one the ways of a warrior specially...how to meet the desires and thirsts for power. He would teach the kit everything a warrior wouldn't teach them.