This new chapter is also a short one. And the mood is also similar to the previous one...
Grief was a peculiar flavour of sadness, one that Webhollow feared to have shared too early with her kits. But it followed her everywhere, with or without StarClan's interference, and she was beginning to think that it could just be her destiny.
Losing Hootpuddle and Flashrump in quick succession had been a hard blow. She knew she would withstand it, but she hadn't taken into account that another death would come so soon.
Webhollow wasn't good with words, she was aware of it. It took her a long time to find the right ones, and if she did, another barrier awaited. They got stuck in her throat, choking her, and when she finally found her voice again, it was often too late. In emotional situations, she never quite knew how to give comfort or show support – she left big speeches to others.
No matter how much she turned it in her mind, no words came. She stared ahead blankly, trying to ignore everything else so that she would think faster. She had to. And still, no words came.
The setting sun seemed to ignite Pigeoneye's ginger stripes. He looked so peaceful, as if sleeping. So young too. She bowed her head. It was always the young ones these moons…
Sobs and sniffles, accompanied by soft whispers of the ritual words 'may you find good hunting, swift running and shelter when you sleep', intermittently broke the heavy silence swelling in the camp. The young warrior had a mother, siblings and friends mourning him. And above all, her had a mate, a very young warrior too, and Webhollow's heart ached with how much she had begged and pleaded for her kits to be spared this grief.
Suddenly, she didn't want to be there anymore, didn't want to be reminded of Hootpuddle's desperate will to live in his last moments, didn't want to remember the torture it had been to know that it was already over. Yet, she stayed.
It was a small mercy that Pigeoneye's soul was already on its way to hunt with their ancestors', but there was no way that she could tell her daughter that – it would have been akin to clawing her heart out and although she had trouble expressing herself, she wasn't that terrible.
In the end, she decided as she sat next to the softly sobbing Rainrun, there was nothing her words could do that her actions couldn't. Gently laving her daughter's fur with her scratchy tongue, she didn't speak. Rather than a few measly words that wouldn't abate the pain, it was better to be there. To stay through the hurt. Webhollow had brought this young cat to the world; she wasn't going to fail her so grossly in the face of the first challenge.
So, no matter how much her stomach churned at being so close to death again, she stood by Rainrun during the whole vigil. The young warrior's eyes were open, yet unseeing, seemingly gazing far, far away, and knowing that she wouldn't notice anything in this state, Webhollow allowed her thoughts to wander. Anything to distract herself.
An image of Blossomstar's strangely limp body being carried to the medicine cats' den by Snaildapple and Mumblepond flashed before her eyes. Was the leader alright? She had looked very small in that brief moment… How many lives did she have left? Had she lost any in the fight against the dog? … Was she even going to wake up?
The rising sun began its ascension in the sky, and she almost had to tear Rainrun away from the long-cold body for the burial. Only time could heal this kind of pain, if it ever truly healed – Webhollow's own heart still felt raw, each pull threatening to open the wounds again. Maybe because she understood her daughter's pain perfectly, the desire to drag her away from the pit of sadness she was looming over grew stronger.
After all, Webhollow knew what kind of horrors lurked in its depths.
It really feels like we can't have good things around here...