The full moon shone brightly in the pitch black night sky. In truth, it seemed much too cheerful for the story taking place. Wolfpelt was sitting at the edge of Tacoclan's camp, slumped over and weak. He should have been joyful; he should have been celebrating with his old friends. After all, he had just been named a new warrior a few nights ago. All of his friends were still grieving, but at least they were not as in shock. The cheering of his new name hadn't even sparked the slightest bit of joy in the young tom's shattered heart. All that he had noticed was the name that was missing.
That missing name, the name of Wolfpelt's strong, brave, incredible brother, was the only name that echoed in his head. Wolfpelt wondered what his name would have been. Maybe it would have been Thunderheart, or Thunderclaw. It didn't matter now though. He was gone, struck down in his youth. Wolfpelt still saw his mangled body whenever he closed his eyes. Every night, he would see his brother dying in front of him over and over again. Every night, in his dreams he was licking the blood off of his brother's dead body in a desperate attempt to save him. And every night it ended the same way, every night, Thunderpaw would die, and Wolfpelt could never save him.
All the other cats said that he had been brave, said that he had died the death of a warrior. That didn't matter to Wolfpelt. He had always looked up to his brother, and now that his brother was gone what was he supposed to do? There was nothing for him to do anymore. There was no one for him to look up to. Honeytail had tried to help, but her words had little impact. It felt like there was a gaping void in his chest. His heart and all of his hopes had been shattered in front of him. There seemed to be nothing left in this world for him anymore. The bouncing, happy apprentice of a few days ago was gone. In his place was a depressed, broken shell of a cat.
Honeytail had been so important to him before, but now even she had faded into the void. He still loved her, but there was nothing left for him to do. He couldn't help her cope with the loss of her clanmates, as he was too destroyed himself. It would be better for her, better for everyone if he had died instead of Thunderpaw. Starclan should have taken him; he had so few friends that very few cats would even notice his loss. And if he was dead, even if he didn't go to Starclan, at least he would have a chance to be happy, and he would be able to see his brother again.
The camp was quiet, leaving Wolfpelt alone with his thoughts. It was so dark, and so late that almost no cats were left awake. There was no cat out to stop Wolfpelt, there was nothing to stop him from freeing himself. It was his fault that Thunderpaw had died after all; he should have come out of the leader's den and fought for him. He should have been there when the rogue had killed Thunderpaw, he should have been there to take the blow for him. It didn't matter that he had been told to hide; the orders should have been disregarded at that point in time. Thunderpaw had disobeyed them after all. Wolfpelt felt that he should have run out of the den after him, and dragged him back. He should have been there; maybe then Thunderpaw would still be here. Maybe Thunderpaw would be alive then.
If any cat had to die in order to satisfy the rogue's greed for blood and destruction, it should have been him. Wolfpelt should have been the cat to die on the field with the others. Not Thunderpaw, Thunderpaw had an amazing future in store for him. He had all that, but now he was gone, destroyed from this land forever. Starclan had been cruel, and struck him down. There was nothing left in Wolfpelt's heart only a dark void, where all of his happy emotions had once lived.
Slowly, a thought began to occur to the shattered tom. Maybe, if he died, then Starclan would send Thunderpaw back. Maybe, just maybe they would accept his sacrifice, and bring back his brave brother. Even if his idea didn't work, even if he died for nothing; at least he would be happy. At least, in death he could run and play in the fields and forests of Starclan with Thunderpaw and all of the other cats who had been struck down in their prime. Wolfpelt would finally have friends there, he might finally be able to hunt and do something useful.
The more that Wolfpelt thought about that option, the more he liked the idea. Yes, yes, if he died then there would be few cats to mourn him, Honeytail and Featherstripe would probably be the only ones. Even they would soon move on with time. They would see that it was for the better that he died, better that he left instead of remaining a burden to the clan. Running away was also an option, but then he would not have made a sacrifice. If Wolfpelt ran away instead of dying, then he would be acting cowardly again, just like he had when Thunderpaw died. He couldn't do that, he had to die so that there would a sacrifice made to Starclan. Wolfpelt had to give up his own life, so that Starclan might give Thunderpaw back.
Thunderpaw was stronger anyhow; he would make a better warrior for the clan. He would be able to hunt, and to fight for them all. Thunderpaw wasn't a coward, he was stronger and braver then Wolfpelt would ever be. That thought drove Wolfpelt's hopes of suicide even further along. He needed a way to do it, and a time. He had to find something that the medicine cats couldn't cure, and he had to make sure that it was fast. If cats saw him dying, then they might think to mourn him, or have last thoughts of pitying him. That couldn't happen. His death had to be quick and quiet. Not messy, and he had to make sure there was no question in any cats mind that he was the one who did it. That way no cat would want revenge on him.
Wolfpelt mulled over this new obstacle, and after a bit of thinking the answer came to him. It was so simple, so obvious that he had been overlooking it for the past few minutes. Every minute he had to think about it, was another minute of him plaguing this land with his miserable and useless existence. The answer to his problems was the bright red berries that he had always been told to avoid as a kit. Even the name screamed the solution to his dilemma. Yes, he was thinking of deathberries. The deathberries would offer him a fairly quick death, and a certain one at that. There was nothing that even the most experienced medicine cat could do to stop his death. The medicine cats had good intentions for sure, but they did not understand how useless his existence now was.
He was a coward, a weakling, and before sunrise tomorrow, he would be gone. Wolfpelt got to his paws quickly now, motivated by the thought of his demise. He crept from camp, but his paw steps were not as quiet as usual, and Honeytail heard him as he left. Quietly, without his notice, the new warrior crept out after him, curious to his motives for leaving so late at night.
Wolfpelt crept along the forest floor, now motivated. He remembered that there was a huge patch of deathberries right by the river. He would eat about ten and then there would be no hopes of any cat forcing him to stay on this tortuous earth for a single day more. He would finally be free; he would make the final sacrifice and do something useful with his life. Before, he was always happy and hyper and cheerful every single day. Now, he wondered how that was ever possible.
His existence had seemed happy, but he was being very native about real life. He hadn't seen the harshness and had been oblivious to how useless he really was. It had taken something as real as his brave brother dying to make him see the truth of things. Now, he realized that he had been a bother to every cat; he realized that no cat had truly liked him. Even Honeytail's affection was probably just an act brought on by pity for him. Thunderpaw had been the only one who truly cared about him, and now he was gone. Hopefully, if Wolfpelt's plan worked however, Thunderpaw would soon return to the land of the living. Wolfpelt couldn't wait to take his place.
Soon, Wolfpelt saw the bright red berries gleaming in the light of the moon. The berries that would seem dangerous and frightening to any other cat, represented salvation and freedom to the depressed cat, they were his last hope to provide some meaning to his existence. Those berries were the only thing in Wolfpelt's sight as he took a final leap and closed the distance to the bush.
Wolfpelt carefully lifted his paw, and knocked ten berries from the bush. They landed neatly in front of him and he sighed with relief as he gazed down at them. There they were the final tools that would allow him safety and freedom from this cruelty. Once, he ate them, there would be no going back. Wolfpelt wondered who he was trying to fool. There had been no going back from the moment that Thunderpaw died, the moment that his brother died because of his own cowardly actions.
Slowly, and gingerly, Wolfpelt bent his head forward and licked up the ten berries. Just as they were in his mouth, Honeytail burst from where she had been hiding.
"Wolfpelt, no! Don't do it-"She skidded to a stop in front of her former lover, as she realized that she was far too late to stop him.
Wolfpelt looked up at her, no grief or regret showing in his amber eyes. All that was revealed from his last look was relief. He was only minutes away from his sweet freedom, but he had to make her understand that it was okay first. "Honeytail its okay, everything will be better now, you'll see."
"Wolfpelt no, it won't be okay! You don't see… this wasn't the solution Wolfpelt! I love you!"
Wolfpelt stared at Honeytail, as her words echoed over and over again in his head. Those very words would have once brought great joy to his heart; now however there was no feeling left in him. The convulsions and pain started to wrack his body as the death berries kicked in, there was no time for him to correct at this point. He had to get in the last things he needed to say, had to make sure she was truly free from him. "I'm sorry I was too weak to save him Honeytail, but I have to do this now. I love you, but find some other cat, put all of your love into him. Be happy Honeytail. Move on with your life. I can't hold you back now. Be free." With those final words, the broken tom closed his eyes for the last time. As he drifted free of his body his last thoughts were; I'm coming Thunderpaw, I'm coming so now you can come back. And in those final moments, Wolfpelt was happy and releaved. Death had held the answer for him. All that was left lying on the ground next to Honeytail, was the broken shell of a once happy cat.
~Sorry for crappiness guys, but I tried. Maybe drop a review if you enjoyed, and offer some feedback if you didn't? :3