[Abyssopelagic]

Silkpaw scented the blood in the air before he heard the commotion. He looked over as Rookfire brought a mangled corpse into camp, and his mind raced as he watched the Enforcers and Dawnstar and Msitlewhisker talk amongst themselves.
He wasn't close enough to hear anything, but he was close enough to see the details of how destroyed the demoted warrior's body was, and his mouth tasted sour as bile rose in the back of his throat, and he had to try so hard not to vomit.
He'd never been this close to a corpse before. At least not that of another cat.
He'd always thought it would be more like seeing prey. An imitation of life, just still and quiet. At rest, and at least given respect in their state of unlife.
This was not like that.
This was raw, visceral, disgustingly twisted and shattered. The body was barely recognizeable if he hadn't known vaguely who the cat had been before.
With shaky paws, he backed away, eventually making himself look away, turn away as he desperately sought somewhere safe, somewhere he could squeeze himself and hide away until.... Until what?
There was no one who would come to comfort him. No one but Hawky, but he was busy, always busy.
He didn't want to be a bother, so he squeezed himself in a crevice barely large enough for him.
And he sat, and waited, eyes closed, and tried to ignore the stench invading his nostrils.

[OPEN]