(A/N: Hi! This is my first Fanfiction, so I decided to pre-write something epic for a role-play on another site. What you are about to read will be the last adventure in my muse's saga. Enjoy!)
Rockwhisker slowly trudged through the snow covered forest, her slowly deafening ears picking up the last tunes of birds as they rose and headed south for Leaf-Bare. Where they went, she did not know, yet they always seemed to return for Newleaf.
She kept walking, staring up at the tall trees that the new SkyClan apprentices enjoyed climbing. She thought of her apprentice back at camp, asleep now, but would soon wake up and find her. Although she was past retirement age, she still trained new apprentices. They didn't seem to mind, however, they just thought that she was going easy on them.
Rockwhisker glanced up from her thoughts, a light snow beginning to dust the already gleaming ground. She shook her head, sending the gathering flakes to the ground. Her bones were beginning to grow cold and sore, but she kept walking, and kept thinking of her past and present, already knowing what the future was going to hold.
She thought back to her nursery days, tumbling carelessly in the ThunderClan nursery. Bramblepelt and Snowslash, the closest things to sisters that she had, were both out of her life. She missed them, yes, but at least she hadn't left Snowslash behind. Bramblepelt had stayed in ThunderClan when Whitesky came to the forest, but she and Snowslash had left with Crimsonstar, back then Crimsonblaze, to join SkyClan.
As hard as she thought, she could not remember the last time she had seen Bramblepelt, but she knew that Snowslash had passed away, and she rested peacefully in StarClan. Wtihout her, the Gatherings had become fairly uneventful, and a long walk on top of that, so she had stopped coming. Some of the Gatherings had been exciting, though, like when a rogue group of cats by the name of FearClan had disrupted the leaders and challenged the Clans. They had fought, cats had died, and Rockwhisker herself had saved a WindClan cat when she fell unconscious. In the end, the Clans were victorious, but some of the members had not left.
A few Gatherings later, the WindClan deputy, Rabbitfoot, brought with him bad news. Two lone FearClan cats had come by and murdered Breezestar in cold blood. She was shocked, as was everyone else, that some cats were still upholding the legend. However, they soon faded, leaving the tradition in Twolegplace.
A large gust of wind rocketed through the trees, blowing away the elderly she-cat's train of thought. She was nearly knee-deep in the snow now, and it was falling down heavier, like a harmless battle that raged through the sky. The weather grew colder and colder, the sky grew darker and darker, her legs grew weaker and weaker, and she knew her time was approaching faster and faster. She did not try to make it back to camp, instead she wove her way to the cliff, where the raging waters had still not yet frozen over.
Rockwhisker blundered her way through the blinding snowstorm, somehow making it up to the cliff, where she found a form of shelter beneath an alcove of worn away rock. The cave held a stale stench, one she thought she recognized, but could not remember. Stale moss lay crumpled in the back, the only source of heat, but the same place where the smell was the strongest.
Survival instinct taking over, she grabbed a mouthful of moss and pulled it over to a section of the wall away from the direct blast of the outside world. She curled up in the foul, old bedding and lazily glanced at the wall. It was covered in strange scratches, all clumped in a hurried slash of the claw. She took nothing of it, but if she could read like you and I, she would have know what it had said, and she would of known what had once lived where she sought refuge.
FEAR
She settled down into the moss, ready for sleep, but was rudely chilled by a sudden change of wind direction. Her stomach grumbled, not in hunger, but in pain, and her acing body echoed the cry. She hurt all over now, and no amount of sleep or herbs could cure her. Her time was nearly up, and she wanted to see the snow covered ledge one last time. So, ignoring the pins and needles that prodded her every joint, she pulled herself up one last time.
The blizzard blinded her eyes. The ground sucked in her every pawstep. The snow nearly froze her. Yet she kept going, wanting, needing to see the river one last time. Shuffling inch by inch, she reached the edge, and, using the last of her dwindling strength, she peered down into the shadowy depths to see the raging current one last time.
Rockwhisker sighed, her fur now numb against her raw skin. That was it. She was done. She let herself fall with the wind, catching a glimpse of the trees one last time, before everything faded away, her body and her mind, but her soul still roams the cliff, wanting to break its chains an see the rest of the world one last time…
(A/N: Well? What do you think? I am quite happy, hitting over 900 words for my first story. Now, I need you to tell me what you think. Love it? Hate it? Write more like it? Leave me a comment, and you will get a free chocolate chip cookie! Yay! Bye!)