My first Challenge for LightClan. Constructive criticism is very much appreciated.
Hope you enjoy it!
Even though the sun was just barely peaking over the ridges by this point, the air was still hot and humid. Birds were still singing their last songs, joined now by crickets and cicadas. It was the start of another muggy Greenleaf night, and the forest was almost peaceful, save for one cat racing through it all as if the Dark Forest itself was at his hind-paws.
His legs were starting to burn at this point. His chest felt as if it were about to explode, but he had to keep running; gaining as much distance as possible before he could stop. He couldn't let any cat catch him in a moment of weakness, no matter how bad he almost wanted someone to. He couldn't afford to show any more weakness. He had to keep running. But how far can a weak dirtpile like me run?
With that, the last of his strength had left him, and stumbled and hit the ground. It was now his eyes that were burning from the tears, and his ears that were burning from everything he had heard, both from others, and himself. His mind was being assaulted by words echoing loud enough that he was sure they could be heard even outside his head.
Weak.
Pathetic. Worthless Piece of Foxdung!
Useless!
Immature! Acting Like a Kit!
Who needs you, anyway?
"Shut up…" he whimpered to himself, but it was drowned out by the onslaught. As they went on, the words seemed to grow louder in his head.
Useless Pile of Dung! Can't I do Anything right?!
Lazy!
Why Can't I try harder!
"Shut Up!" he yowled, flexing his claws and digging them into the dirt. He stared there like that for what seemed like countless minutes, sobbing like only one who had almost given up all hope would know, as he listened to the soothing sounds of nature; the ones that seemed to continue on, no matter what hardships were faced by any of their listeners. Even if I die, these sounds would still go on like nothing happened. Would there be any difference if I just died? Have I made any difference in any cat's life? Even one? I try my best at everything, but it seems like I always mess it up. How can a worthless screw-up like me ever be a warrior?
Another voice chimed in. What about the elders? You fetched new moss for one of them today. You even took care to make sure it was the best moss you could find for them.
He snorted and rolled his eyes at that thought. Yeah, and there was a thorn in it.
Still, the voice persisted. What about any prey you've ever caught? That's had to make a difference to someone.
Again, he rolled his eyes. What I've caught is just a drop in the puddle. Everyone else catches more than I do. My kills haven't made any difference. All I am is a nuisance. Why shouldn't I just end it? It sure seems like the Clan would be better off.
The other voice responded the way it always did to that question. Well, for one, that would really help the Clan, to deprive them of another warrior. And would StarClan have put you here if you weren't meant to do something?
The tom sighed; to argue with that would be like arguing with StarClan itself. What is my "great purpose" then? He asked himself sarcastically. What is it that I'm meant to do? I sure haven't found anything I'm good at yet.
Once more, he was answered. The only way to find out is if you stick around long enough.
He sighed again, this time in resignation. Slowly, he heaved himself back onto his paws and began padding his way back to camp.
As he went, he twitched his whiskers darkly at what seemed like the absurdity of his situation: arguing with himself. It probably wasn't the healthiest thing to be doing, but it was his only way to vent. To him, complaining and self-pity were signs of weakness, and he was of the mindset to never show any sign of weakness. That meant that he had no way to get rid of everything weighing down on him besides running and breaking down away from everyone.
It wouldn't be like this if everyone wasn't so hard on me all the time, he thought, I'm hard enough on myself. He was the type to take criticism to heart, and it always affected him greatly after it's built up for some time, which always led up to this: a breakdown; the point at which the totality of everything that's been said comes crashing down on him. And whenever he thought about, it just made him feel weaker. A stronger cat wouldn't let everything get to him so easily. A stronger cat wouldn't need to be talking to himself to cope with everything. He twitched his whiskers once more at his next thought. Well, I suppose I'll just have to train harder then. Finding a better way to cope might also be a good idea.
His mind was starting to calm as he took in the scents of the forest, and filled his lungs with the cool night air. When the trees overhead cleared enough for Silverpelt to shine through, he turned his gaze to the stars and sent up a prayer. StarClan, help me. Help me to be stronger. Help me to be good enough to become a warrior worthy of joining you some day. It sure doesn't seem like I've proven enough for you to let me in if I would die tonight.
He sighed. I'm not sure if I'm even worth listening to at this point. If I am, could you let me know somehow? That I'm worth something?
At that, a cool, gentle breeze seemed to make its way around the clearing. He took a deep breath and managed to let go of all his troubles, letting the air soothe him. It could've just been the wind, but he liked to think it was StarClan's doing.
Well, it's not much, but I'll take it. Thanks.
He now found himself feeling lighter on his paws, and filled with renewed energy and enthusiasm to take on whatever may come. He found himself quickening his pace, before breaking back into an all-out sprint, only now, it wasn't brought on by grief, but rather by a feeling of freedom and enjoyment. Life definitely had its darker moments, but it had its brighter ones as well. The tom had always felt this way after every time he broke down, and he knew that he'd find himself in that situation again, but for that moment, he preferred to relish one of life's brighter moments; the ones that he held onto to keep the darker ones at bay.