The Death of a Hero
A high-pitched yowl pierced the early morning silence. It shattered the heavy fog which had rolled through the trees, blanketing everything in sight. It even seemed to break through the rain, pouring heavily down on the camp in the quarry. Cats came trotting down the steep trail, their pelts dulled by the lack of sunlight. Their eyes were dark and sorrowful, the leading cat carrying the limp body of a ginger tom in his long grey muzzle.
A small brown kit stirred in the nursery, pressing against a white flank as she did so. The long fur tickled her nose, prompting a delicate sneeze. She got up slowly, legs sore from damp weather. Her green eyes managed to sparkle even through the thick mist. She got up, moving towards the entrance of the nursery, followed by the white queen.
The rain beat down hard, soaking the pelts of the kit and the queen as they watched the silent procession. Four cats were there, a grey tom with a white paw leading the way. Following him was a slim white she-cat, patched with tortoiseshell. Her amber eyes were filled with grief. Behind her, two cats walked side-by-side. The first was a golden-brown tabby tom, and the second was a large reddish brown apprentice. The apprentice looked like he had been hit the hardest by sorrow.
The brown kit scrambled towards the cats, her eyes wide in anxiety. She was about to go closer when a familiar scent washed over her, and a tail rested itself on her shoulder. She opened her muzzle, letting the musky tang of the cat behind her wash through her. She turned, almost hesitantly, to look at him.
"They need to bring him to Snowstar," murmured the tom behind her quietly, his light brown pelt dark with water. His green eyes met with hers, and a semblance of peace washed over the kit.
"Alright, Snaketail," she murmured back, watching with interest and sorrow. It wasn't like she had known the slim ginger tom well, but he had been a frequent visitor to the nursery. "Is he dead?"
She felt him gulp by the shudders that ran through his body and tail. She knew the answer before he said it, a cold feeling washing over her. She had never known anyone that had died before. Well, except for her mother... but she had never really known her mother, and in the kit's mind, it didn't really count. "Yes," Snaketail said solemnly.
Her thoughts drifted to the queen the dead warrior had left behind. From what she had heard, the ginger tabby had been a good father to all of his kits, encluding Falconwing and Cedarpaw who were in the group of cats bringing the body back to camp. "Will Creekfoot be alright?" the kit mused thoughtfully.
Snaketail didn't reply right away. He sighed and dipped his head, still watching the procession as they made their way to Snowstar's den. The large grey tom had left the body with the three others and gone into the den himself. "It is always hard to recover from the death of a loved one. Creekfoot may never be the same."
"What about her kits?" the she-kit asked. Cedarpaw and Cricketpaw had been kits with her for the first two moons of her life. Now they were apprentices, learning skills that would carry them through life.
"Kits are never as close to their father as his mate is," Snaketail mewed, pressing himself even closer to the small she-kit.
"We are," she stated simply; defiantly.
"We're-" he broke off, unsure of what to say. They were close, it was true. The she-kit had no mother to look after her, as Lilypelt had died giving birth. Snaketail had bonded with his daughter to make up for the loss of his silver mate. "We're different."
The kit looked like she was about to say something until a call from Snowstar changed her mind. "All cats old enough to catch their own prey, come under the Highrock for a Clan meeting!"
The brown she-kit muttered under her breath and turned to go back to her den until Snaketail wrapped his tail around her shoulders, barring her exit. He forced a smile onto his face as he murmured. "You're old enough now, Hazelkit. You're almost an apprentice."
Joy lit up Hazelkit's eyes and she darted forth to sit beside Cedarpaw. The large apprentice nodded solemnly to her before turning his attention to where the grey tom, Stoneclaw, was sitting beside the limp body of the warrior. The small she-kit nuzzled his flank softly, trying to cheer him up. This was the first death Cedarpaw had witnessed after the death of Hazelkit's mother.
Snaketail sat beside his sister Cherryfur, the tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat who had been in the patrol with Stoneclaw. Beside them, Mallowfur was watching her grey mate with wide eyes as he dug his muzzle into the dead warrior's fur. The golden-brown tabby, Falconwing, and his sister Duskpelt sat together, heads bowed. A small grey tom appeared; Rowanstripe the medicine cat. His blue eyes met the dead tom's glassy green ones as the cat sat still; shocked.
Two elders, Browntail and Spottedpelt, both appeared. They had braved the awful weather to remember their past comrade. Another golden-brown tom, Cricketpaw, sat beside his mother Creekfoot, who was a few weeks pregnant. The apprentice was comforting the queen, his eyes clouded with sadness. Lastly, the deputy appeared. Lichenfur's grey and black fur blended in perfectly with the sky and damp earth as he made his way to where the dead warrior lay.
"Cats of ThunderClan!" Snowstar's clear alto voice rang out. "Today, a tragedy has occured."
There was murmuring from all the cats assembled. They already knew what the tragedy was. Only Creekfoot sat still, eyes wide and unbelieving. Her expression was almost as glassy as that of the dead tom.
"Blazeclaw is dead," mewed Snowstar calmly. Hazelkit wondered how she could keep her voice from being flooded with sorrow. She knew that Snowstar had exprienced many deaths before this, but even the kit could not grasp the enormity of Snowstar's exprience. "He lost his footing and tumbled down a rocky hill, hitting many rocks before he eventually came to stop below a bundle of bramble bushes."
"By the time we got down to him, it was too late. I believe had had fractured many bones and that there was internal bleeding," Stoneclaw said curtly, bowing his head.
There was silence, occasionally interrupted by a hushed whisper. Then a pained yowl broke through, filled with grief and disbelief. Creekfoot's muzzle was open and she was yowling to StarClan, the cry carrying an undertone of sorrow.
Cricketpaw pressed even closer to his mother, rubbing his head against her flank. Cedarpaw fot up to do the same, trying to comfort the golden she-cat. He pressed his muzzle against the side of hers, purring to relax her. Creekfoot cut off her yowl and hung her head, and the two toms nuzzled her and stayed with her.
"Tonight, those closest to Blazeclaw will sit vigil," continued Snowstar, blue eyes dimmed. She looked up as the rain faltered to a stop and the sun slowly slid out from behind the clouds, illuminating the group of cats. "Until then, we will keep his body in Rowanstripe's den."
Rowanstripe nodded and went forth to get the body. Together, he and Stoneclaw carried the body towards a crevice in the rocky face where Rowanstripe had his den. They brushed past a few ferns, leading the body through a hole in bush and into the den. Hazelkit watched them go, pain in her eyes. Creekfoot's yowl had made her realize just how painful this must be for her. Then the kit felt the sun on her fur and turned towards the sky, eyes shining. Around her, she could here the murmurs of other cats as they too noticed the sun.
"But there is also good news," called Snowstar, reclaiming the wandering attention of the cats below her. Hazelkit could have sworn she had seen a glimmer of anticipation in Lichenfur's eyes. The brown she-kit looked up at Snowstar, waiting expectantly. "Hazelkit is ready to become an apprentice."
Hazelkit could have bounced with joy. Her eyes lit up and she scrabbled forth, ignoring the water falling into her eyes from her wet ears. She sat at the edge of the small clearing the cats had formed when Snowstar had announced the bit about Hazelkit, waiting expectantly for Snowstar to start the ceremony.
"Come forward, Hazelkit," Snowstar said, even though the little brown she-kit had already scooted forth. The white she-cat grinned softly and continued with her ceremony. "From this day forth, until she has earned her warrior name, this kit will be known as Hazelpaw."
Hazelpaw was about to squeak her name when she realized it wasn't the right time. She closed her mouth promptly and snuck a glance at Snaketail. He was staring at her with an expression of pride and amusement on his face, his green eyes lit up with joy. She realized that this must be an important time for him. He was seeing his only daughter apprenticed.
"Lichenfur," mewed Snowstar. "You are strong and experienced warrior, as well as a fine deputy to this Clan. You will be Hazelpaw's mentor. I expect you to pass on all of your skill and wisdom to this young cat."
Lichenfur nodded, his eyes shining. He stepped forward to touch noses with Hazelpaw. The brown she-cat realized what she was supposed to do and bounded forward, causing a slightly painful collision. None of the other cats seemed to notice. A yowl was taken up, each cat echoing the name of the new apprentice. Cedarpaw and Snaketail were the loudest to take up this chant, and Snaketail was burning with pride. "Hazelpaw! Hazelpaw! Hazelpaw! Hazelpaw!"
Only Lichenfur was calm as touched his tail to Hazelpaw's shoulder, telling her to follow him, and he led the way towards the apprentice's den. Hazelpaw couldn't help but watch the movements his muscles made as he walked, the sheen of his wet coat making them look all the more impressive. He was giving off a languid air, but the apprentice could see a warm emotion in his eyes as he looked back at her. He came to a stop at the apprentice's den, flicking his tail at it. "It's only early morning, so get some rest and I'll take you out an sunhigh."
Hazelpaw nodded eagerly. "Yes Lichenfur!"
She grinned at him and bounded away, eager to wrap herself in a bundle of dry moss and let the wetness of her pelt be soaked away. It was warm now, with the sun out and the fog dissapating. Curling up into a ball, she began to shiver from the cold of her fur until another cat came in and wrapped himself up beside her. Hazelpaw could tell from the scent- he smelled like a mix of vole and oak trees- that it was Cedarpaw resting beside her. She smiled as the warmth spread through her, drifting off to sleep.
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Hey guys. So how was it so far? If you read, please review :)
And I bet you have a good idea of who she'll end up with, right? Mmm. Well, we'll see.
;D
Plushies for reviewers. That's my policy.
Thanks for reading!
-Eagleh
