"No!" He screamed. Time seemed to stop. "No!"
Laurelleaf left the two kits faraway from the Thunderpath and streamed on onto the Thunderpath. He didn't care if there were monsters on each side. All he seemed to see were the bodies of his deputy and his father, small and unmoving at the middle. "Midgepelt!" He screeched. "Swiftrabbit!"
Blood splattered the sides of Swiftrabbit's slender body, dripping slowly towards the place where Bearkit and Wingkit stood in, and Midgepelt's pelt was shining red in nearly every edge of his body. "No, no, no..." Laurelleaf buried his nose into his father's fur and shook his shoulder. Desperation filled him. "Wake up, wake up," he demanded. "Wake up, father!"
The brown tom did not move, and his warm scent was mixed with the scent of ash and dust. "Wake up!" Midgepelt still did not move, and Laurelleaf remembered the time when he was still young, checking Midgepelt when he was resting everyday in the nursery with Larkwing. "Larkwing spent so much time curing you!" Laurelleaf roared. "You couldn't die now!"
A distant growl sounded, and a cyan monster roared past the cats. Laurelleaf tried to drag Midgepelt away, but Swiftrabbit would be left to be trampled into flesh pieces. "No!" He screamed once again.
Father, father, father, Laurelleaf thought desperately. Midgepelt! He couldn't lose what was left of his family, not after Grasswhisker died to Manglethorn's paws and left him with only his father. He clawed the ground, tried to sense any sign of life in Midgepelt's body, but he wasn't breathing, and the whole side of his body is crushed and bleeding. Laurelleaf didn't dare to admit it, he never dared—but Midgepelt's eyes were closed, his breathing gone, and his shoulders bending in a horrifying angle.
The monsters seemed to quiet down and disappear as more and more cats came to watch. Horrified and terror-stricken, Gorsestar and Liondrop leapt from the crowd. They helped pull the two dead cats from the Thunderpath, their eyes wide and surprised.
Laurelleaf's gaze couldn't leave his father. No, he thought. He couldn't be dead. "They're dead!" Some cat yowled, and grief nearly drowned Laurelleaf as cats broke into grief-stricken yowls and screeches. He fell beside the cat who have stood beside him since kithood and the only cat left in his family.
Wingkit and Bearkit stood aside, watching all the mess. Maybe it was all their fault. They caused the two cats' death. It was all because they were trying to explore the new scent. Laurelleaf's muzzle was buried in Midgepelt's fur while Gorsestar checked Swiftrabbit over and over again, muttering "StarClan, StarClan..."
"How much would I miss you?" Laurelleaf whispered. "How much?"
His father was dead. His mother was dead. He didn't have any siblings. His deputy was dead. Who else was there to help? Unmeasurable grief surged upon him again as he whispered, "Who did this?" Deep claw marks were left in his heart as he yowled, "You couldn't just have ran onto the Thunderpath!"
He was too overwhelmed by sadness to think straight, and he broke out right in his father's fur. Midgepelt's pelt was cold, and his warm scent was covered by the ugly stench of the monsters. Blood seeped into Laurelleaf's own fur, but he ignored the sticky wetness. Maybe it was his own tears that produced the stickiness and wet his own fur. Hard wind blew from the west, and that ruffled the two cats' fur. Many cats have stood and watched Laurelleaf grieve for his father, while the others stood next to Swiftrabbit with bent heads.
The patrols were starting to return to the camp when with Wingkit and Bearkit when a whisper sounded faraway. Laurelleaf was at the back of the crowd, his tail drooping, staring at the moor runners with Midgepelt's body between them, when he heard the low whisper. Come...
It was the voice of an old cat. Laurelleaf barely turned, and he stared at the empty Thunderpath with dull eyes. Blood was still splattered across the rocky road, and Laurelleaf tried to shut out his pain. He couldn't, even if he desperately tried to block out everything he was feeling at the moment.
Who do I have now? He thought agonizingly.
I was here... the voice whispered again, and Laurelleaf turned. "Who's there?" He asked. The cats in front of him continued padding away while Laurelleaf stayed, staring into the darkness.
"You wanted to know who the killer was?" Another voice sounded next to the first one's. "Poor Laurelleaf, come."
Laurelleaf's heart seemed to stop once again. He heard the voice many times. He perked his ears and tried to block out his grief. "Who?" He asked. "Who was that?"
"Come," the voice repeated. "If you're courageous enough."
Wait… why does this feel so wrong?
"This is a trap, is it?" Laurelleaf asked. Realization was slowly crawling up to him. "You want to lure me to the middle of the Thunderpath, is it? To kill me with monsters?"
The voice was quiet for a moment, and silence stretched. Laurelleaf's anger started unfurling. Why does this voice seem so familiar? "Since you're not coming to fight me, and all your Clanmates are far away already," the voice said. "I'll come to fight you." A white paw stepped out from the bushes, and Manglethorn appeared in front of Laurelleaf.