Take Me Away:
Snowkit coughed, lying in his nest. Of all the things that could ever happen to a kit, he had been given the worst. He had been awarding a racking torture, endless suffering, from birth. At six and a half moons old, he had no apprentice name. His white pelt clung to his frame, and Snowkit barely had the strength to raise his head, nevertheless eat. At two moons old, he had been confined to the medicine, and the day after, his nest. Snowkit didn't the names of his clanmates- only Leafstar, Rosewing, and his mother, Palebreeze.
The medicine den was his home. The herbs smells were familiar, and he was slowly catching on to the usages of herbs, and other medicine cat stuff. Snowkit knew, deep in his heart though, that all he wanted to do was train to be a warrior with the brother and sister he didn't know anything about. The young kit had merely been tossed into his nest before he could meet others, before he could learn what life should be. Instead, the only way of life he had ever known was a coughing, painful one.
He shivered. For the past moon, he had been constantly cold, but no matter how much moss was in his nest, he always woke up freezing. Palebreeze padded, stone-faced, into the den. His mother always wore a frown, as if nothing in the world could make her happy. But Snowkit knew the thing that would make her smile- if she could see him, healthy for the first time in his life- playing with his brother and sister. Where he belonged. Not stuck in the medicine cat den, smelling of the herbs that failed to treat the strange sickness that had always had hold of him.
When Sunkit had been stolen by an owl the other moon, Snowkit had wished he had been in the kit's place. Then he would be out of his misery. "S-nowk-kit." Palebreeze's voice cracked in the face of her sick kit. He raised his muzzle, managing to speak. "M-m-mot-t-ther," he rasped. "I-I-I'm glad-d-d t-to see y-y-y-you. H-how-w is the c-clan?" Palebreeze paced back and forth at the line that Rosewing had drawn on the floor of her den, a fox-length away from Snowkit, showing how close guests were allowed to go to Snowkit.
"I would like some visitors," he had begged at three moons old. "Why can't I meet my clanmates?" "You're too sick," the response had come. "the day you are healthy, you may meet them." Now Snowkit feared that day would never come. At most, it would be the day of his death that he could meet the clan. Hidden from the clan by the ivy covering the entrance of the medicine cat den, the white tom would always live his life alone.
Alone in the world of tears and sadness, tears and sadness, tears and sadness. A world where the sun doesn't shine. A world where there is no warmth, no happiness, no health. Where everyone in hungry and depressed, sickly and weak. Where there is no one their to love you, comfort you, be with you. No one to sit out the cold nights with you after you have a nightmare. No one to calm you down whenever you have a big scare. No one. Nothing. All alone.
This world was cold and lonely, cold and lonely, cold and lonely. Yet he shed no tears; he did not cry out. He suffered every drop of pain on the inside, refusing to cry. Refusing to show how saw how desolately lonely and depressed he was. How cold, how unloved, how desperate for life. Even though day after day he was told that there was no way he could survive this strange illness. That he would die, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. He could only wait for his spirit to leave him, lifeless, in the nest that had become the only place he could ever be in.
Motionless, sad, lonely, yes, this was him. No laughter, no warmth, will ever radiate from him. Not a single day could ever end in happiness, not when you live in such a gray world. No one to love him and stay with him forever and ever. No one to lift his spirits when he was sad. No one to calm him when he was scared. No one to help him understand things when he was confused. No one to be his friend. A life of emptiness was all he had.
When he needed help, physically or emotionally, there was no one to give him it. He would always walk this path, faithfully, quietly, passionately. Striving to do his best. Striving for life. Striving to succeed. Striving to get better enough, even if for just a day, so that he could leave the medicine cat den and meet his clan mates, meet the brother and sister he knew nothing about. This was pain.
Shadows. Yes, shadows and darkness lined his path, his every step, his every breath. Every chance he had was shadowed with doubt, with fear that it wouldn't work out. Nothing would ever be easy for him, yet he always had to try.
"Eat," Rosewing ordered, entering the den and tossing him a mouse. Palebreeze cast him a sad glance and left. The mouse thudded to a halt about half a tail-length away from him, and he searched himself for the strength needed to reach the mouse. Sighing, the ginger medicine cat stared at her paws. "I should have thrown it closer," she mewed. "I'm sorry." He didn't respond, instead watching as she grabbed a stick and used it to poke the mouse closer to him.
He sniffed it. The mouse smelled healthy. Healthy. Yes, healthy. What he wanted to be. Taking a feeble bite out of the mouse, he swallowed the terse meet before losing the strength needed, and his head plopped down onto the ground, narrowly avoiding the half-eaten mouse. Closing his eyes, he gave way to darkness.
Snowkit never woke up. His whole life had been quick and short, full of pain and depression. None of his dreams ever came true- he didn't ever get to meet his clan mates, and he was never healthy. To him, the world would never be nice. It would only be a period of life that brought constant suffering and pain, with a path marked out with bad luck and misfortune.
StarClan accepted him and gave him a warrior name for all his bravery, passion, and determination; Snowheart. Where real life had appeared to him as something worse then the Place of no Stars, the Dark Forest, StarCan was sparkling with goodness. Even though he was dead, event though he was surrounded by strange cats, even though he would always be weak, even in StarClan, since he was never strong, He was happier then he had even been in his whole, entire, short-lived life. With good reason, too.
RIP, Snowheart.
We will always remember you.