Her mother was always sending her on 'errands'. Little missions of little consequence that she claimed were given in order to make her stronger. In order to instill the same unflinching attitude - she personally would call it stubborn and sadistic despite what her mother might claim - that she would need when she became Proxy. And it was always 'when'. Not 'if'. Her daughter taking her place one day was an inevitability, and of course it was a decision she reached without so much as mentioning it as anything other than already decided to that daughter. She hated that. Her mother always envisioned that it would all come to a head some time in the far future, with mother and child facing each other in a fight to the death for the position. She hated that vision. She hated being trapped in her mother's shadow, and she knew if she were to ever take her place as a Proxy that she would never leave it. But she could only ever come to one conclusion of how to step out of that darkness. And every time she reached that conclusion, a tiny voice in her head told her that it would only pull her into an even deeper shadow that she would surely never escape from.

    Every time she considered the idea, another voice would purr in a pleased rumble. It was a voice she was used to, but the hint of pride in it's tone would send the same tiny voice warning her away screaming. That voice was a monster, a manipulator, and a murderer. And following through would make her just the same. A killer. Death would be the only way to be rid of the shadow her mother cast. But could she do it? She had worked slowly, carefully over the past few moons, following the advice of the monster's voice. She never knew there were so many wys to kill a cat without touching them, and with her 'errands', little more than a servant's chores, she was in the perfect position to execute. Fox glove and deathberries. And rosemary, to cover the scent of poison. Knowledge of poisons and plants the voice had learned through a lifetime as a leader and a rogue and knowledge she inherited through happenstance. Slowly she increased the quantity of rosemary hidden within the prey she would fetch, so her mother would grow accustomed to the scent as the voice told her. But when the day finally came, a time she had prepared to face for moons, she hesitated. Could she really do this to her own mother? Kill her like this? Perhaps if her own voice were stronger she could've hidden the pair of deadly plants away and spared her own mother. But she couldn't shake away the repeated hiss of, "Do it. Finish her. Earn your birthright." And so she carefully stuffed the mouse she had chosen, careful not to dirty her paws with anything that may poison her in return for this dark deed. The voice, Raven, only gave a pleased purr.

    Corvus was far too cocky for her own good. She swallowed down the prey with the typical comment of, "Y'know, usually prey that smells like this could be considered suspicious." She had already downed plenty to kill a cat when she noticed the half-eaten scarlet berries. She only had time to look towards her daughter, sat with her tail curled neatly over her paws, with a look of mingled shock and, in a twisted way, pride before she dropped to the ground with a strangled cry. That cry was Corax-kun's cue, and she was swift to her paws, slipping briefly to the background as Raven slid into the shadows. She wasn't certain how many cats would seek vengeance on a Proxy that only ever abused her power, but it would be better for as few cats as possible to connect her to her mother's death. Who knew who might hold true loyalty towards the arrogant she-cat. No one she wished to draw the ire of, only casting a brief glance behind her as her mother writhed in agony, legs out stiff and jaws wide open as she gave a wordless cry of agony.