I don't think I opened my eyes at all. This was all a dream, some horrible, twisted dream. A nightmare. It couldn't be real. I couldn't be here…could I?
If it was real, then I woke to the sound of dripping water. A tree loomed over me and I blinked hazily up at its branches, so far away. The leafy canopy, the one that blotted out the stars, sheltered me from the downpour. I rolled my head to the side slowly, a terrible ache biting at my skull.
My heart stopped for a minute.
Where was I?
In a battlefield.
Was I dead?
No. But they were.
The broken bodies of cats lay scattered about the clearing, their lifeless eyes staring at me. Like I was on a throne built from blood and bone and guilt. The grass was stained, slick, crimson with blood. The rain was steadily washing it away.
I turned my head away. I didn't remember how I got there. What I did. My paws were lying in front of my face, and I looked at them. The black fur was matted with blood. It was on my claws, in my mouth, in my soul.
What did I do? Did I want to know?
It was quiet, the only sound the gentle splashing of raindrops. I closed my eyes once more, begging sleep to take me away from this place of death, and it did.