In his mind's eye, he could see the flames - sweet, raging flames signifying every victory he'd ever gained in his short existence. A single tongue of burning scarlet could engulf a newborn kit, roasting them ready for his hungry jowls to devour with moments of its death. He could see queens cowering, protecting their kits fruitlessly; letting his inner self stalk towards them grinning, he saw in the corner of his eye the Clan leader. Ah, yes - the power-hungry tom who dared to stand up to him even when this fight's victor had already been chosen. The sweet, metallic tang of fresh blood filled his mouth as he pierced the soft flesh of an apprentice's tail, letting the squealing youth's scarlet liquid roll down his chin. Tossing the limp tom aside, he squared up to the leader, a smile playing on his lips.

The vision of loveliness he was watching happily within his mind - his strong jaws ripping the flesh from the leader's bones as his whole Clan watched, numb with shock - suddenly evaporated, leaving Pulsepaw lying on his side on the mossy ground of AutumnClan territory. Snarling ferociously at the green canopy above him, he let a wave of fury slip over him. Why did he have to wake up, just when he was about to claim a new army of powerless victims to control and manipulate until they were beyond recognition? This was just his luck - he hadn't had a catch for the past few days. He'd had to live on scrawny mice and voles, fitting only for the puny warriors and their pathetic lifestyle. The revolting taste of mice blood still lingered in his mouth, constantly reminding him of the shame he was causing to 'his kind' by stooping so low as to eat warrior prey.

Casually flicking one ear, he padded towards a shallow puddle, reflecting the pale sunlight that dappled the forest floor. Glancing at his scarlet scars in the watery mirror, he struck the pool with one swift slice of his claw, shattering his face into a thousand drops of clear rain water. He smirked with dry humour; he didn't care what cats thought of his appearance. Anyone who met him didn't last a day within his presence anyway - the scent of their blood was irresistable, constantly tempting him until he had faced enough torture, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of his vitims. The Clan cats forbade their warriors to go by his lifestyle, instead restricting their tastebuds to live on only the unsatisfactory tang of prey blood. If only they knew of the pleasures that cannibalism brought him, caressing his stomach like a velvet drug; once the first drop of feline blood touched his tongue, he had known that there was no going back.

Smirking once more, Pulsepaw recognised the foul scent of AutumnClan territory, letting it sting his nose for a few moments before shaking himself warily. Licking his lips, he scented the air; hopefully there was a young apprentice somewhere in his area, innocent and unsuspecting of his cunning tricks. Padding forwards delicately, he planned the rest of his day - if he could catch a fair meal today, it would suffice for a couple more days, allowing him to lie low before he had to go hunting again. Hunting was a chore - though sometimes it was quite enjoyable, as he had nothing against playing with his food.

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[Warning: Anyone who joins this post is in for a hell of a ride :3]