[nyme]

WE'LL BUILD A FIRE IN YOUR EYES

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ! ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

SALAMANDERPAW . 9 MOONS . SHE/HER . RIVERCLAN

Cobwebfern is back, piecing words together through her misery, finally instilling some order in a manner that Salamanderpaw doesn't feel inclined to object to. She's still glaring at Cricketsplash, but this has far less to do with the warrior and more to do with her own desire to be mean to somebody, anybody, because it almost feels like holding on to that is keeping all the other ugliness in her belly at bay. First it had been Seabreeze and now it's Cricketsplash and maybe later it'll be somebody else. Who knows, because her mind is pried out of her ire at the sight of a familiar brown and white pelt—!

She barges toward Seapaw, who looks as if they're moving in a dream. Even so, she doesn't know what else she can do besides press her pelt to his and bear witness to his farewell to Stormstar, who Salamanderpaw is having a hard time understanding to be Stormstar anymore. That thing is just a husk. Just a shape. Just the thing that called herself Stormstar when she was, once, the strongest cat that Salamanderpaw could think of. The strongest cat in Riverclan and therefore, the strongest in the whole entire world.

Now all that might has been bitten out of her, bled into the mouth of something hungrier than she was great. And that's that. It's all still so funny to Salamanderpaw because she doesn't know what else it could possibly be and she is too damn tired to let it be another tragedy. It's funny but she can't laugh, not now, not standing so close to—it, to the thing, to all that's left. Salamanderpaw's tongue is stuck to the roof of her mouth. Seapaw doesn't say much. She can't bring herself to say anything, no matter how badly she wants to. It should be something kind, or something strong, or something to prove that she'll do what she can to honor Stormstar's memory because surely that is something she owes the former leader, if nothing else, but Salamanderpaw says nothing. If this is just what happens to us then what's the point in talking to her now? Wherever Stormstar's spirit is, it cannot possibly be waiting with bated breath to hear what Salamanderpaw has to say.

Seapaw departs as quietly as they'd approached and she doesn't follow. Salamanderpaw steps aside to let others at the body. Primroseadder's and Stagheart's send-offs are fond and heartfelt and Salamanderpaw hates them for it only because she's jealous that they know what to say. That they have anything to say at all. Then Aspenpaw. Then Waveclaw. Then Breezepaw. Her mouth flaps open and shut, chest swelling and stalling with failed attempts at something, something, anything. She should hop back in line, buy herself more time, really think. She doesn't. She inches back a pawstep at a time, in no mood to retreat into the apprentice's den just yet but still looking to separate herself from the mourning because she's had her fill. Sorry. Maybe that's the best she can do. It feels like it might be, so she doesn't say it out loud. An apology, how embarrassing.

I'm sorry.