A warm breeze billowed through the trees as Crowfeather lead a hunting patrol back to BloodClan's camp. The slender guard held two mice and a plump thrush in his jaws. The four of them had gone into ThunderClan's old territory to catch themselves a meal. There was no demand on fetching prey for the entire Clan, every cat was for himself... Though, as a guard with some authority, Crowfeather liked to ask if any cat wanted to hunt for a friend or kin with him. Typically, he would be one of the only cats thinking of others rather than just himself. 

Most of the cats now were selfish savages. No cat seemed to have their head on straight anymore. Whether it was because they were raised like this from birth or some sort of mental illness from head trauma or a psychological break, Scourges wrath had turned the Clan-cats to bloodthirsty manics.

Scourge's death was only truly mourned by his close companions, where the rest of the cats only pretended. The small evil cat had fallen ill the past leaf-bare and even with four medicine cats working together, they weren't able to save him. His close friends had been so sure that they had purposely killed their leader, as the rumours had whispered around quite quickly. Though it was possible they had tried everything because they were always short on supply due to the amount of brawls that broke out daily. Not to mention how messy the battle training gets. 

Soon after Firestar's death and BloodClan moving into ShadowClan's marshy home permanently, Twolegs had destroyed WindClan's vacant territory. They dug a deep pit in the heart of their camp and never touched it again. The thought of Crowfeather's home being ruined for such disgusting acts to begin still stabbed his chest. If it wasn't for their mindless tasks, maybe Scourge would never of created this awful game...

Scourge had ordered his slaves to dig out an entrance tunnel and at the far side of the pit, another: the tunnel to freedom. This was only a rumour; even Crowfeather was unsure if the winner would be truly granted his freedom. 

With such a hold that the small black cat with one white paw had on these feeble cats, not many cats dared to try to run away. Those that did were always found, either by the guards or the many lurking snitches. Crowfeather's shoulders bristled at the memory of him and Lostface finding Sorreltail. She only made it past the Arena on a sprained paw and battered face after she was jumped by a couple she-cats. The tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat had started wailing when she noticed the two guards were close on her tail. Sadly it wasn't hard at all to find her, the blood dripping from her face had created a trail. Crowfeather never let his emotions show, no matter how much pity he had felt for Sorreltail in that moment.

After moons of rain, wind, and sun, the pit had grown a field of grass and small trees began to grow, too. Even a thin waterfall had slithered its way over the top of the pit and down a wall of rocks that jutted out along the edge, and created a pool among the growing vegetation. Poison would sit on a lump of long logs the Twolegs had left to watch the bloody game take place from above. 

Tess, Sootfur, and Mousefur followed close behind the slick black guard. None of the cats made a sound as they padded forward, each of their mouths grasping at at least one morsel. Gazing through the treetops of thick oak and birch trees, Crowfeather made note of the grey clouds slowly coming toward the cats. 

Behind Crowfeather he could hear the old ThunderClan cat, Mousefur, struggling to keep up. He glanced over his shoulder and slowed his pace to watch her drop her lousy sparrow and take a moment to catch her breath. 

Sootfur snorted, continuing past Crowfeather with Tess a tail-length behind him, "Old hag won't be any use for BloodClan soon enough," he flicked his tail, "Not that she ever really was any use." Tess purred with the smokey-gray tom.

"You don't need to wait for me," the small dusky brown she-cat grumbled before shaking out her pelt, "I am capable on my own." 

Even through her prickly demeanour, Crowfeather could sense her anxiety; he knew that she knew her elder days had been upon her for moons. There were no elders in BloodClan. Back when there were four Clans, elders were taken care of and well respected... Those days were long gone. 

I will always respect my elders.

Through a stern, narrowed gaze, Crowfeather let the ageing she-cat gather herself. Picking up her catch, she met eyes with the dark tom and blinked a silent thanks as the two headed to the camp. The pair trekked together among the tall ferns and rich undergrowth until they came to the Thunderpath. They ducked down and listened for a few heartbeats before scurrying over its hot black rock. Heading down the bank of the Thunderpath, Crowfeather lead Mousefur through the thin grass until their pads sunk in the wet earth, beginning to squelch in the mud. The camp was just ahead now, a clearing on dry ground surrounded by a thick barrier made of branches, dead trees, and thorns... lots of thorns. Skulls of Scourge and Poison's enemies were thrown along the camp, some were broken, some in piles, all covered in mud with flies buzzing around. Crowfeather paid no attention.

Sootfur and Tess had already began feasting on their fresh-kill by the time Crowfeather and Mousefur emerged from BloodClans entrance. Tess huddled over her catch and snarled at the large orange tom, Jumper. 

Among the clearing there were cats tussling, hissing, and a few pairs engaging in small conversation. Brick and Ashfur were spitting at each other, tufts of grey and orange hair flying in the air as they batted each other with their forearms.

Under a large oak at the back of the clearing sat Russetfur and Violet on one of the large protruding roots. Their kids were at their paws squealing as their little claws hit each other. "Use your hind legs, Lionkit," Russetfur demanded as Eaglekit overpowered the small orange tabby kit, "and then give a good swipe to the nose!" Lionkit did as his mother commanded and got the bigger gray kit in the nose, sending him stumbling back with a yelp.

Meanwhile, Bumblekit, Violet's smallest, was curled under the root trembling. It looked as if he was already beaten, his fur in large tufts and a fresh claw scratch down his flank.  

Brackenfur and Cloudtail were sharing a crow while watching Hawkpaw, who should've been a warrior by now, dominate a much smaller she-cat in a stand off. Heatherpaw let out a yowl as she wriggled underneath Hawkpaw's large white paws. The tabby tom's tail lashed as he growled with defiance.

Just as Crowfeather turned to head for the nursery, Onewhisker busted out of the large den where some of the warriors resided and peeled toward his daughter. "Leave her alone, you filthy rat!" He snarled, lunging at Hawkpaw which sent the two crashing into Dagger, and immediately the thick brown tabby tom spat at the two and joined in on the fight. Heatherpaw shook out her pelt and scrambled toward the medicine den for shelter.

Shaking his head, the guard broke off from Mousefur and padded to the nursery to make sure the queens had had some sort of meal today. 

The nursery was practically falling apart, the back end had sunken in from past storms and he noticed streams of sunlight had broken through the den too. The guard sighed as he gazed at the three queens laying in their nests with their kits. 

Crowfeather dropped his thrush at the paws of Tawnypelt, her dark tortoiseshell pelt unkempt and her hips noticeable. "Wow, it's huge!" Tigerkit gasped, him and Flamekit's heads popping up out of the nest. Dawnkit nestled closer to her mother. The three kits were big enough to eat their own food now. "This bird should be enough for you to eat as well." Crowfeather nosed the fresh-kill toward the kits and the queen dipped her head. 

Ferncloud and Dawnstripe were eye-balling the two mice Crowfeather still had. He dropped each mouse at the two queens' nests. 

"You are one of the last senseable cats left, Crowfeather." Ferncloud croaked.

The guard shook his head, "I know StarClan is still in a lot of these warriors' hearts..." He wasn't sure if he believed himself fully, but he knew that cats like Mistyfoot, Dustpelt, Graystripe, and Onewhisker had a hard wall up but were still good deep down... Unfortunately, he couldn't say the same for cats like Frostfur, Oakfur, Jaggedtooth, and Shadepelt.  

Though the one cat whom had changed so drastically that stuck to the Clanborn cats the most was Lostface. The white and orange patched she-cat was once kind and giving, but after losing everything she turned to her rage for guidance. She was never given her real warrior name; Scourge loved how cruel the name was and how it fit perfectly with her brutal scarring. Scourge took her under his wing and taught her how to "get over it" and protect herself... and him. That sweet ThunderClan apprentice every cat had known of had been shut away. Destroyed like every cats hope for a better life. It was as if she was mind controlled, always obeyed command and showed no emotions... not even for her mate, Cloudtail... The two barely noticed each other anymore, only the white tom would awkwardly glance at her with a small glimmer of pain.

"Do you think some day StarClan will save us?" Flamekit whispered to his mother. Tawnypelt licked the fur between his ears, "I pray every night they do."

Crowfeather didn't reply as he squeezed through the brambles into the clearing. Poison was mumbling something to Jaggedtooth with Lostface and Tabby sitting with their tails neatly around their paws on the other side of him. 

The leader looked up and met eyes with the black tom. "Quit babysitting the kits and get over here!" Poison snapped. Crowfeather flicked his ear as he padded toward him, "Yes, Poison?" 

Above, the gray clouds had come across the sun and suddenly small drops of rain began to fall.

"Only three more sunrises before the Reaping takes place!" The rain was starting to get heavy. He kneaded the ground with anticipation and let out a purr loud enough to be heard over the drumming of raindrops. "I want battle training for all of them during sunhigh and under the moonlight..." Poison trailed off with a low growl. The storm grumbled above. 

The tall scrawny black leader let out a yowl and took off toward the oak tree, spraying mud behind him. He leaped for the tree trunk and clawed up to the lowest branch. Violet and Russetfur gazed up at the leader and every cat in the clearing had stopped what they were doing to watch him. 

Some cats were itching to be chosen, filled with pride and deadly confidence. While other cats dreaded the day they or their kin could be chosen. Crowfeather sensed even some prayed to be chosen just to be killed, their only hope to get away from such a disgusting life. 

"You all can pray..." Poison spat while he dug his claws into the branch. Thunder clouds rolled above BloodClan, and in the dim daylight the leaders piercing green eyes shone in the tree. Lowering his head, he lashed his long tail in the air, "only one will remain of a dozen... train hard, train harsh, the Arena knows no mercy...!" 

BloodClan cheered with ferocious yowls and snarls at their leader. Please StarClan, let us free...

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i decided to completely redo this chapter but wanted to keep the old one <3 the chapters will be updated next so itll correspond properly with some of the subtle changes i had made xxx

Scourge's death was mourned by his companions, not so much anyone else. The Clan cats never liked him. They pretended to like him, suffering through to simply stay alive. He was greedy, selfish, and evil. Plain, plain evil. He made foolish battles that cost most cats their lives, some even their teeth or claws, and the others their faces and pelts. It was if he favored cats with intense scars. None of them looked like they had when the Clans followed the warrior code.

StarClan had officially abandoned the Clans. No dreams, signs or prophecies after Firestar was murdered and after BloodClan moved in. Though every Clan-born cat respected and loved the elders, they were killed as soon as they became too old to fight or take care of themselves. Scourge insisted it was best for them.

Many continued to die under Poison's wrath - suffering a punishment or dying from illnesses. He was just as evil as Scourge, greedy and bloodthirsty; there was only hatred in his glowing green eyes as he towered down on the Clan with his menacing grin and threatening gaze.

Lostface, the once quiet and innocent apprentice, was now emotionless and deadly. She had never gotten her real warrior name, and Scourge never cared for others feelings. Because of the horrid scarring, Scourge took her under his wing, teaching her to forget the past and to "wake up". To grow up and protect herself... and him. She was officially a guard by fourteen moons; Poison's guard now that Scourge passed on. That sweet ThunderClan apprentice everyone once knew was gone. Never to be seen again. Disappeared like our hope for a better life. She always obeyed command and showed no emotions... not even for her mate, Cloudtail.

Speaking of ThunderClan, there was no more ThunderClan, ShadowClan, WindClan or RiverClan, only BloodClan remained. They were all one big Clan from the moment Scourge won and no cat, not even the kits, got along. They were always miserable and they didn't put up with anything. Even something as simple as stepping on a tail could cause a brawl.

But now that there were so many kits, apprentices, and warriors, there was a game called The Hunger Games. Where friend fought friend and enemy murdered enemy. Only one could be the winner, and when that winner was taken back to the territory, he or she would be given better shelter and a better place to stay, given the opportunity to no longer have to kill others or worry about being in the Hunger Games any longer. It was a one-way chance to freedom. Some itched to be chosen, while others dreaded the day.

The Reaping takes place six moons after the surviving subject had come back. And for us Clan cats, the fun had only just begun.