I'm so sorry.
The patrol walked out into the darkness, heads held high. As she followed the waving white and silver swirled tail of her sister through the pouring rain, Whitefang decided they were a powerful group. Sharpcloud had joined last minute, eyes blazing, as if he were hoping to face off against the Riverclan scum that attacked Darkclaw and the others. Bouncestrike led the patrol confidently, every pawstep deliberate and proud. Whitefang had a feeling part of it was his knowing Cherrynose was back in nursery, curled tight around her rapidly swelling belly. It would be a many moons until she kitted, but Bouncestrike still strut about camp like a pompous peacock, as if his kits were already leader and deputy. Whitefang stifled a laugh. Swanmist looked happy, most likely thinking of her future with Timbermask. Whitefang still couldn't believe they could think about kits so soon after the miscarriage. Kestrelwind was quiet and hung toward the back, as if anticipating something large and menacing. Whitefang's pelt was a bit on end as well, given the recent attack. Grayshadow was arrogant and annoying as usual. She paid him no mind. All in all, she figured they were well equipped to deal with whatever Riverclan fish-faces were blown their way. Or so she hoped.
The rain fell hard and constant, splattering their pelts until each cat looked like a drowned rat, their fur straggly and clinging to their frames. Each drop was fat and round, but they tasted bitter as Whitefang caught them on her tongue. She frowned. What disgusting weather. She thought, marching through the boggy swamps to the border. Pine needles, shaken loose by the pounding rain, stuck to every inch of her pelt, and pinecones bounced off her head, making lumps the size of pebble. She growled. The cats were silent, each one contemplating something different, while Whitefang merely wished she were anywhere but there. Stupid rain showers are always worst in Newleaf and Greenleaf. She thought miserably.
Birds twittered from their dry, cozy hollows in trunks, and Whitefang envied them. No chipmunks scampered beneath the tall branches, and no squirrels quarreled among the leaves. The forest was eerily silent beside the sound of hammering rain. Soon, a distant rumble of thunder joined the cacophony of droplets. It pounded through the marshes, and Whitefang frowned again. Thunder and rain, what's next, lightning? This is going to be the most miserable patrol of my life. Mud coated her legs and the tips of her belly fur, and she was reminded of the time Swanmist has stepped in that steaming pile of dog dung. She almost called out to her sister, but thought the better of it. Swanmist had hated that. So she trudged on, the others marching through the mud and splashing her until almost every part of her glowing white pelt was a deep, dirty brown.
As they walked on in silence with only the sound of rain to keep them alert and awake, Whitefang found her thoughts wandering to Sunshine, Robinfoot, and the others. What are they doing now, I wonder. Probably cuddled up in the warrior's den, dry and warm. She thought. How I wish I were back at camp. Every step Whitefang took, her paws sank deeper into the sodden earth. She could smell nothing but rain and mud and pinesap, which clung to her paws and fur like a second skin.
Finally, the six cats reached the border. By that time, the rain was so thick and the skies were so dark Whitefang could barely make out the rest of the patrol. Very faintly, through the storm and roaring thunder, she saw Swanmist lean down to sniff the border markers.
All of a sudden, the air was alive with shrieking cats. Whitefang herself was bowled over, crushed into the mud by a pair of large, gray forepaws. Her senses came alive, taking in the scent of long stale water and fish and rain, the tang of blood in the air as it oozed from her shoulders, the taste of mud and sound of laughter and pain. She brought her hind legs up to pummel the stomach of her attacker soundly. The cat, a tom, roared with pain and anger as her claws left shallow slices along his stomach, and she took the opportunity to roll aside and leap onto his spine. Digging her ivory, mud coated claws into his back, she wrestled him to the ground. Though he was a fair bit larger than she, the Riverclan ambusher was not used to fighting such large, powerful she-cats. As she clung to his shoulders, he howled and bucked like a stallion. Whitefang ran her hind claws down his flanks and snarled, the tom now whimpering like a kitten. She let him go, and her ran off into the storm. Blinking stinging rain and grit from her golden eyes, Whitefang glanced around the border skirmish. No, this was no skirmish. This was a battle.
Grayshadow grappled savagely with a pair of small she-cats fighting side by side, matching each of their blows with grace. Beside him, Sharpcloud's golden pelt was stained with blood as he writhed beneath the hooked claws of a black and orange tortie tom. Bouncestrike was battling a duo ferociously, with Kestrelwind standing back to back with him, snarling at an opponent of her own.
Whitefang breathed deeply. Swanmist? She thought anxiously, glancing around the darkness for the glowing pelt of her beautiful sister. The she-cat was battling a pretty black she-cat, their blows evenly matched. As Whitefang raced to help her sister, a blow caught her shoulder and she stumbled into the marsh, the scummy water-logged loam choking her. She gagged and felt eagle-like talons gripping her hind legs mercilessly. Turning round, she found herself gazing into the familiar fiery amber eyes of Shimmerstar.
"You!" She coughed, mud spraying from her torn lips, blood streaming from her battered shoulders.
"So we meet again, Whitepaw!" Shimmerstar grinned, digging her claws deeper into the muscle of Whitefang's hind legs. The warrior twisted around and slashed at the dark silver tabby's muzzle, leaving but three shallow scratches on her small nose. The leader laughed.
"You think you can-" Whitefang slashed across the tabby's beautiful face, leaving deep gouges on her muzzle.
"ARGH!" Shimmerstar screamed, blinded by pain, and she stumbled back into a sycamore. Whitefang lunged after her, seething, golden eyes flaring.
"You! You did all of this!" She screeched, swiping maniacally at whatever part of Shimmerstar she could reach. The silver furred leader held her ground, and Whitefang, despite her anger, was impressed by her foe's pertinacity. Whitefang lept on top of Shimmerstar and pressed the she-cat's face into the sodden ground. As the leader squirmed, she would grind herself deeper into the earth, until a boulder-like weight came crashing into Whitefang. Her vision swam as her head crashed against stone and her flank was torn open by ivory claws. She growled viciously and her forepaws scrabbled helplessly against the wall of fur that pinned her.
Then came the scream. So eerily familiar, it shook Whitefang's bones. But it was short. Final.
Then, she was on the edge of the shadowy territory, looking over to glittering, sparkling water. The outlines of everything were undefined, and the colors melded together, as if determined to keep her location a secret. Whitefang felt pelts press around her, choking her, and the scream came again, shorter, and more final. Once again, through the shadows and haze, blood seeped through her thick white pelt, staining it crimson, she heard faint whispers, unmistakably words, and felt fury flood her heart.
The dream! She screamed in her mind. Throwing off the weight and sodden pelt that was smothering her, Whitefang stood in the midst of the battle field, eyes wide. A huge ginger tabby tom's blue eyes flooded with horror as he gazed upon the body on the ground, and the crimson blood staining his claws. He scrambled back hurriedly, and dashed off into Riverclan territory. Whitefang dashed to the body, oblivious to the fleeing ambushers, eyes for only her sister. Her sister.
Swanmist's pale green eyes were wide and clouding, pupils flicking this way and that until they found Whitefang. Then those dark pools in the midst of sea foam green never left their mark. Her breath, coming with short, quick gasps, was punctuated with fearful coughs, blood trickling from the side of her jaw. Her stomach was split up the center, torn so badly Whitefang could hardly look at it. Blood pooled around them, flooding the already saturated ground, soaking into the white-based pelts and staining them ruby. Rain streamed over Whitefang and dripped into her eyes. She couldn't tell what were tears, and what was rain.
"Swanmist…" She whispered.
"It-it hurts…so much. Help me, Whitefang. Save me again…Oh, Whitefang," Swanmist coughed up blood, the red spurting from between her lips and trickling down her chin. Whitefang clutched at her, pulling her closer until she could feel her sister's heartbeat in her own chest. The tears flowed freely now, and her vision swam.
"Stay with me, Swanmist. Don't leave. Don't leave me! Swanmist!" She wailed, golden eyes welling up with tears. Swanmist's heartbeat was slowing, slowing.
"Don't leave me Swanmist…" Whitefang sobbed.
"Avenge me…" Swanmist whispered, voice hoarse as if she had gargled with broken glass. It cracked at the end.
"I won't…I won't avenge you, because you aren't leaving me!" Whitefang replied, voice soft.
"Promise…promise me, Whitefang…I need you to promise." Swanmist rasped desperately, eyes searching Whitefang's face.
"I will. I promise, I promise…" Whitefang murmured, voice wavering and tortured. Swanmist's eyes glazed over and her heart slowed to a nonexistent beat. The life left her veins and spilled freely onto the ground. Thunder crashed above.
"We won!" Whitefang heard Grayshadow yell, as if through walls. Her vision was hazy as her mind, she had eyes only for Swanmist. Swanmist…
"Whitefang! We won! What are you-SWANMIST!" Bouncestrike shouted, running to them, paws bloodied and slipping in red and brown mud.
"Swanmist!" Kestrelwind screamed, amber eyes wide as the moon itself.
"No!" Grayshadow howled. Whitefang was silent ,rocking back and forth, cradling her sister's limp head in her forepaws. Swanmist, Swanmist, Swanmist…
"Whitefang, Whitefang get up. We have to bring her body back." Bouncestrike whispered in the white warrior's ear, though his voice shook with sorrow.
"No! She-she can walk!" Whitefang hissed, "Come on, Swanmist. Get up. You can get up." She sobbed, nudging her sister's body gently.
"She's dead, Whitefang." Grayshadow meowed bluntly, voice stunted with grief.
"No! No! Swanmist isn't dead! She can't be dead! She can walk, she…can walk…" Whitefang wailed, prodding at what was Swanmist in vain.
"Whitefang, let's bring your sister home. She needs help to get home, Whitefang." Sharpcloud's voice pierced through the haze that was what remained of her thoughts.
"Home…Swanmist can walk…" She insisted desperately.
"Swanmist needs your help to bring her home," Sharpcloud choked.
"I-I will carry m-my sister," Whitefang meowed.
"Of course you will." Bouncestrike soothed.
"I-I promised her…avenge…I promised…she can't be dead." Whitefang stuttered, stumbling as Sharpcloud and Bouncestrike lifted her to her paws. Kestrelwind had sunk to the ground, body quivering. As Bouncestrike and Sharpcloud lifted the body to her shoulder, Whitefang shuddered. It was as if her heart had torn in two, and one half had been trampled and scarred by an army of warriors who knew no mercy. As she stumbled home, leaning on the shoulder of Sharpcloud and letting Bouncestrike share the weight of the body, her stomach twisted painfully. Her wounds burned as well, and the bitter rain merely stung them as it seeped through the clotted blood and tattered flesh. When they reached camp, no cat came out to greet them. They slid the body from their shoulders and for the first time, Whitefang saw her. Swanmist was gone, eyes lifeless, form limp, cold to the touch and without heartbeat. Her sister was dead. Her stomach knotted itself and unraveled, and Whitefang collapsed, retching through the horror of it all. As her stomach emptied, she dry heaved, wailing.
"NO!" She screamed, "NO! This can't be happening! NO! Swanmist, come back! I need you, come back!" She howled her misery to the inky darkness where no star shone, and where no moonlight filtered through the storm. Cats emerged from their dens, first warily, then all at once. Then there were the screams.
"SWANMIST!" Paledove shrieked, throwing herself at her lifeless daughter, wailing her grief to the absent stars as her daughter did. Stonetail rushed to the side of Whitefang, tears streaming, and the two huddled together beside the bloodied, battered corpse, watched as Paledove threw herself at the ground and lay upon the body, sobs wracking the gorgeous, slender warrior. Timbermask screamed his fury, his sorrow, and lay beside his mate as if he had died as well. Addershriek made no move to comfort his son; he knew as well as any cat that this would only earn him scars. Timbermask pounded the ground with his paws as Whitefang collapsed into Stonetail, too upset to utter a single sound. Paledove sounded like she was being strangled, writhing beside her precious first-born as if she were taken by poison. Shyfawn watched miserably; there was nothing she could do to ease this pain. The Clan watched silently, many tears falling and splashing to the ground like raindrops. Stonetail cried silently as well, watching the sky.
Thunder shook the earth as Starclan themselves wept the loss.
The sky truly cried tonight.
I had to. Please don't hate me.
Lots of love,
-Bright