Night/Mud: If Only

The body of the once-strong deputy was carried into the camp by Onewhisker himself, the former WindClan deputy's limbs dragging over the turf with the softest whisper of fur being brushed against the grass. The new leader seemed staggered over what had happened; unable to grasp that Mudclaw was really dead. His green eyes held a blank, stunned gaze, and as soon as he put his Clanmate's body down, Onewhisker backed away on unsteady paws.

It had taken a lot of effort to retrieve Mudclaw's body from underneath the fallen tree. The warriors who had worked seemingly tirelessly to dig him out now sat exhausted, their paws muddy and their claws frayed. Tornear was glaring at Onewhisker, ignoring the blood dripping freely from one shoulder as it mixed with the rain that still came down heavily.

"He'd still be alive," the tabby warrior growled, "if none of this had happened."

Onewhisker flinched as if the words had been a physical blow. "I didn't want this," he mewed desperately, but Tornear had turned away with a snort of disgust.

"Call yourself a leader?" the warrior challenged as he walked away to get his wounds treated. "You can't even win your own battles without Firestar's help!" He threw one last disgusted look at their new leader, and disappeared into the medicine cat's den.

Onewhisker looked back at Mudclaw's muddy, broken body. One cat observed the defeated slope of his shoulders, yet couldn't manage to summon any of her former disdain.

All she felt was numbness.

Tornear's words echoed endlessly in her mind. He'd still be alive if none of this had happened. Still be alive. Alive.

The fight was lost. Their attempt to assist Mudclaw in taking his rightful place as leader had failed. Not even Hawkfrost's help, with his RiverClan and ShadowClan warriors, had made a difference when ThunderClan joined the fight.

And now Mudclaw was dead.

The she-cat paid no heed to her wounds, even though they throbbed every time her heart pulsed out a fresh wave of blood. She sat in the open, even long after the other warriors had slipped off to find shelter. Soaked to the skin, she shivered, but made no attempt to get out of the rain.

I should have tried to talk him out of it, she thought, and felt her chest tighten painfully as grief blurred her vision. It had seemed like a grand vision at the time….

"If I were leader," Mudclaw had meowed, leaning close to make sure only she heard him, "I'd make WindClan great again. We'd never need to rely on another Clan for help. We'd never be driven out of our home again. We'd be strong, and no Clan would ever look down on us."

She'd been swept up in his vision of the future. For a moment his expression had mirrored her own; wistful.

Then his lips had pulled back into a savage snarl. "Onewhisker is the only one standing in my way," he'd hissed, so quietly she wondered if he'd meant for her to hear it.

She'd seen the way the Clan was split, fighting amongst itself.

They'd been weakened by Tallstar's final wish.

They would be wiped out if something wasn't done before the temporary peace between the four Clans ended. Mudclaw had only wanted a better future than the one they had had laid before them.

He was dead….

How would the Clan go on now?

Slowly, the black warrior crept out toward where Mudclaw's body lay being battered by the ceaseless rain. It had to have been well-past moonhigh by now…everyone else was getting dried off.

Not her. She sat by his head, looking down at him, remembering how strong he had seemed in life. In death, he seemed fragile and small; a twisted mess of what had once been a formidable warrior.

Nightcloud slowly blinked rainwater out of her eyes. She'd fought for him, would've died for him. She would have gladly followed him, had he been their leader. "Look at what this came to," she whispered, finding it hard to choke the words out. "You fool…you'd still be alive if – " She broke off, unable to continue.

She sank into a crouch, pressing her nose to his soaked head with a low, agonized moan. "Don't leave me," she whispered. "You can't…" She lifted her face, twisted with grief, to the dark, stormy sky. "Give him back." Her voice broke on the last word and she pressed her cheek desperately against the top of his head, letting out a high, keening noise, unable to give voice to the deep pain in her heart.

"Nightcloud."

The black she-cat looked up, barely registering the voice in her sorrow. Blue eyes, darkened with sorrow, gazed back at her. She'd fought against this very cat; Clanmate against Clanmate. What have we become? She wondered. If we can't even trust each other…this isn't the Clan Mudclaw wanted…

Crowfeather didn't say another word, but sat beside her, leaning down to press his nose into the mottled brown warrior's fur. Mudclaw had been his mentor, Nightcloud remembered suddenly. He could understand her grief…but he could never match it.

My love, she thought, closing her eyes as the rain began to ease. If only there had been time to tell you how I really felt about you…