[taillow]

Most of what Mists said went in one ear and was rolled out of the other. She didn't get it. No one got it. Dusklion bit back another snarl as they reached the thicket, suddenly feeling the weight of Pricklestep on her back. The words that the Lionheart spoke were muffled and dull while Dusk's thoughts drifted elsewhere. She kept her narrowed gaze focused ahead though, and when the call was given for graves to be dug, the head Lionheart got to work with curved paws.

This wasn't the first grave she had dug, and as she slid Pricklestep's body into it there was a flash of silver spotted fur in his place. It was almost enough to send her scrambling backwards, but she held herself in place with merely a startled, quiet gasp. Just as quick as it had come though, it was gone - leaving Dusk to wonder if she had imagined it. Shaking her head the dark tabby started to cover the fallen warrior up once more, smoothing out the dirt over the top once done.

With that she stepped back and took a seat, head hung low. This was a grave day for the Clan indeed - and as much as Dusklion willed herself to find the grief these cats deserved, all she could see was the bright red Rage that had made its home in her heart.