The molly couldn’t believe her eyes. She had just gone for a territory stroll, and now that she’d entered camp she realized another death had happened. This time, it was one of RiverClan’s high ranks. Slatewhisker. Her amber eye widened in horror, but before she could think about Slatewhisker’s death, cats started screaming all around her. Her ears pounded and throbbed from all the noise, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She was getting angry. This couldn’t be good. Her blood was boiling, and she was hoping that she wouldn’t burst when suddenly Fawnleap said something about “children trying to step in”. Stormpaw snorted, turning to face the warrior. What was wrong with children stepping in? Maybe they had emotions as well. Plus, why couldn’t they stand up for their clan and what was right?
“That is not true. Why can’t we apprentices stand up for what is right like you warriors do? Why do you get to handle everything and we have to stand by and watch everything from the sidelines when we have something to say? We have emotions to, y’know. It’s not just you and Marigoldleap. What Hollowstorm said was very wrong and we get to make that clear as well. Just because we’re young doesn’t mean we don’t have a voice.” She took a deep breath, pricking her ears as Adderscale spoke. He was right. Perhaps she shouldn’t have talked to Fawnleap like that during a burial, but still, in her opinion it was very important to stand up for herself and her fellow apprentices and kits. They had every right to express their emotions just like warriors did, and if the warriors got to give Hollowstorm a little lecture, why didn’t the youngsters of RiverClan? Obviously, he had done something wrong, and if someone wanted to say something to him about it, they should be able to.
Head hung low, Stormpaw suddenly caught sight of Fawnpaw. The look in her eye suddenly shifted to something deeper and she padded over to her adoptive sister, letting a deep sigh escape from her maw. Poor Fawnpaw. Fawnpaw was so young, so innocent. She had a life to live and it wasn’t supposed to be filled with trauma. After casting a small glance at Cloudpaw, she joined the apprentice in wrapping her tail around Fawnpaw. She... she was allowed to, right? After all, Fawnpaw was her sister. “It’s going to be okay, Fawnpaw.” She knew that would not help, but it felt good to say it anyways.
➣ Burying his face into Slatewhisker’s fur and trying so desperately to figure out what to do, the tall oriental longhair felt so damn powerless and pathetic. How many more cats would suffer this fate because of him? Would Pikestar go down in history someday, many moons from now, as the leader who caused so many loyal RiverClan cats to die? Like he was some kind of bad luck charm? It terrified him, to feel like the cause of all this disaster and chaos in the clan that he had always loved so deeply. Thankfully, there were many cats who approached him soon after the grieving tomcat collapsed next to his deceased deputy. First was Mapledawn, who placed themselves beside him and soon would rest their tail along his shoulders, not saying anything but silently offering comfort to Pikestar. Rainwhisker was the next to console the crumbling clan leader, sitting nearby and reminding him that this was, in fact, not his fault. Her tone sported grief for this loss, but her words held a certain amount of wisdom that he desperately needed to cling to right about now. Then the comforting scent of Moonfrost would come to his senses and the mute molly would place herself beside him, their pelts brushing together. He uttered a small ‘mrr’ of acknowledgement to his dear friend, grateful for her presence. There were times that he felt alone within his own clan, but the truth was that he had many cats supporting him. Friends. Family.
Moments later, Bluepaw ran over to him and sat beside the oriental longhair, tears dripping down the young tom’s face. He had no problem with his apprentice’s presence, silently welcomed it even, but the question that the white-furred youth asked him made the RiverClan leader tense up. “What?” The single word echoed in his mind as he lifted his head to look at Bluepaw, his expression a clear mix of confusion and obvious fright. “Some rogues tried to kidnap you? When?” Once those words left his maw, Otterfluff appeared, having overheard Bluepaw apparently. He lifted his head to meet the brown-furred warrior’s gaze, which silently told him that this was a matter that would be discussed later. He didn’t look away from Otterfluff for a good few seconds before uttering a small sigh and nodding gently, before turning back to Slatewhisker’s body. He would deal with that mess at a later time, for sure. There was always another mess for him to clean up. Or try to, at least.
While returning to his grieving, Pikestar heard comments of who would take Slatewhisker’s place as RiverClan’s new deputy. However, that was the last thing that the oriental longhair wanted to think about right now. After seeing what happened to his loyal and hard-working deputy, how could he bear to choose another cat so soon? What if they suffered the same fate? He solemnly shook his head, not wanting to bother himself with such troubling, morbid thoughts. Pikestar just wanted to say goodbye to his second-in-command and make sure she was given a proper resting place. However, once again, his grieving was interrupted. To be completely honest, the dark-furred tomcat hadn’t even caught what started the whole event, but something that Hawkpaw—his own apprentice— had said clearly set off Fawnpaw. Personally, he had only seen the young medicine cat, who was basically a little sister to him, show such intense emotion a few special times. His ears pinned against his head, not wanting to deal with this right now. Why couldn’t everyone just stop fighting and just mourn in silence for the loss of Slatewhisker? Was that so hard? Why did everything have to be so loud and violent? Hadn’t RiverClan… hadn’t he himself… dealt with enough violence lately? His head was starting to hurt because of all the bickering and it was becoming increasingly harder for him not to cry. Then Cloudpaw’s voice rang through the clearing as she yowled curses at someone who was supposed to be her denmate. “CLOUDPAW.” Pikestar snapped, standing up to lock his partial gaze on the fluffy apprentice, who only stared back at him with defiance.
The two of them stared at one another for a heartbeat or two, not saying anything, but both clearly upset. He gave the young molly a look of understanding, since he knew why she had acted out as she did, but he silently tried to let her know that this was not the time or the place for such things. Nobody was right in this situation. Silverpaw, Hawkpaw, Cloudpaw, even Fawnpaw. All these young cats were snapping at each other while they were supposed to be grieving for Slatewhisker. This was supposed to be a calm and emotional time where they were supposed to comfort and console each other. His stomach was starting to ache with this sickly feeling as he turned away from the three molly apprentices. Hawkpaw had gone away after Fawnpaw had apologized for her outburst, so he couldn’t even deal with him right now. With a huff of exhaustion, Pikestar sank to the ground again, just in time to feel another cat’s comforting touch: Slumberpaw. The RiverClan apprentice brushed him with his tail and even gave him a gentle bump of his head as the oriental tomcat pressed his nose into Slatewhisker’s fur once more. Then Hollowstorm came over and started to bug him about something. An apprentice? Marking borders? Sending out patrols? Was he seriously doing this now? Goddamnit.
Initially, Pikestar just ignored him, not wanting to snap, not wanting to show his anger again. He couldn’t. It would hurt too much and he didn’t want to do this at Slatewhisker’s funeral. She didn’t deserve this kind of disrespect. However, many of his clanmates were not keen to ignore the warrior’s blatant disrespect. First was Fawnleap, then Marigoldleap, Gingerfrost too. Darklight, Bluebellpaw, Flintfang, Reedwhisker, Koipool, Adderscale, Flarepaw, Stormpaw. A sea of different voices sounded and Pikestar found it impossible to lock onto just one. Stars above, he just wanted to clasp his paws over his ears and drown it out. But he needed to be strong. He needed to be a leader. That’s what RiverClan deserved. “Please… stop fighting…” He whispered, though Pikestar wouldn’t be surprised if nobody heard his tiny plea for mercy. His head felt like it was being bashed against a rock and his stomach felt like it was doing uncomfortable flips against its will. Get a hold of yourself, Pikestar. Get a goddamn grip. Be an adult, be a man, be a leader for the love of StarClan. His body felt hot, like the kind of hot that one felt before fainting, but he forced himself to stand. “We must give Slatewhisker a proper burial in the Thicket. It’s what she deserves, a place of resting so that she can walk among the stars.” He meowed, looking at the body at his paws. Pikestar wondered if he had the strength to carry her himself. His body felt so weak, so tired, so overwhelmed. But it was what needed to be done. This was his deputy. She deserved to be carried by her leader to her grave. Pikestar lowered his head and grabbed Slatewhisker by her scruff, lifting the molly’s body off the ground and pushing her form onto his back. His legs trembled, threatening to collapse, but he prevailed, looking towards the camp entrance. “Hollowstorm. I ask you to stay back at camp.” Simple, and to the point. He didn’t want to see the tom’s face right now.
With that, he waited for a moment for those who wished to accompany him at the thicket to gather around him.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
( If there are any mistakes in this, I'm sorry aaa, been working on this all day. )
➣ Burying his face into Slatewhisker’s fur and trying so desperately to figure out what to do, the tall oriental longhair felt so damn powerless and pathetic. How many more cats would suffer this fate because of him? Would Pikestar go down in history someday, many moons from now, as the leader who caused so many loyal RiverClan cats to die? Like he was some kind of bad luck charm? It terrified him, to feel like the cause of all this disaster and chaos in the clan that he had always loved so deeply. Thankfully, there were many cats who approached him soon after the grieving tomcat collapsed next to his deceased deputy. First was Mapledawn, who placed themselves beside him and soon would rest their tail along his shoulders, not saying anything but silently offering comfort to Pikestar. Rainwhisker was the next to console the crumbling clan leader, sitting nearby and reminding him that this was, in fact, not his fault. Her tone sported grief for this loss, but her words held a certain amount of wisdom that he desperately needed to cling to right about now. Then the comforting scent of Moonfrost would come to his senses and the mute molly would place herself beside him, their pelts brushing together. He uttered a small ‘mrr’ of acknowledgement to his dear friend, grateful for her presence. There were times that he felt alone within his own clan, but the truth was that he had many cats supporting him. Friends. Family.
Moments later, Bluepaw ran over to him and sat beside the oriental longhair, tears dripping down the young tom’s face. He had no problem with his apprentice’s presence, silently welcomed it even, but the question that the white-furred youth asked him made the RiverClan leader tense up. “What?” The single word echoed in his mind as he lifted his head to look at Bluepaw, his expression a clear mix of confusion and obvious fright. “Some rogues tried to kidnap you? When?” Once those words left his maw, Otterfluff appeared, having overheard Bluepaw apparently. He lifted his head to meet the brown-furred warrior’s gaze, which silently told him that this was a matter that would be discussed later. He didn’t look away from Otterfluff for a good few seconds before uttering a small sigh and nodding gently, before turning back to Slatewhisker’s body. He would deal with that mess at a later time, for sure. There was always another mess for him to clean up. Or try to, at least.
While returning to his grieving, Pikestar heard comments of who would take Slatewhisker’s place as RiverClan’s new deputy. However, that was the last thing that the oriental longhair wanted to think about right now. After seeing what happened to his loyal and hard-working deputy, how could he bear to choose another cat so soon? What if they suffered the same fate? He solemnly shook his head, not wanting to bother himself with such troubling, morbid thoughts. Pikestar just wanted to say goodbye to his second-in-command and make sure she was given a proper resting place. However, once again, his grieving was interrupted. To be completely honest, the dark-furred tomcat hadn’t even caught what started the whole event, but something that Hawkpaw—his own apprentice— had said clearly set off Fawnpaw. Personally, he had only seen the young medicine cat, who was basically a little sister to him, show such intense emotion a few special times. His ears pinned against his head, not wanting to deal with this right now. Why couldn’t everyone just stop fighting and just mourn in silence for the loss of Slatewhisker? Was that so hard? Why did everything have to be so loud and violent? Hadn’t RiverClan… hadn’t he himself… dealt with enough violence lately? His head was starting to hurt because of all the bickering and it was becoming increasingly harder for him not to cry. Then Cloudpaw’s voice rang through the clearing as she yowled curses at someone who was supposed to be her denmate. “CLOUDPAW.” Pikestar snapped, standing up to lock his partial gaze on the fluffy apprentice, who only stared back at him with defiance.
The two of them stared at one another for a heartbeat or two, not saying anything, but both clearly upset. He gave the young molly a look of understanding, since he knew why she had acted out as she did, but he silently tried to let her know that this was not the time or the place for such things. Nobody was right in this situation. Silverpaw, Hawkpaw, Cloudpaw, even Fawnpaw. All these young cats were snapping at each other while they were supposed to be grieving for Slatewhisker. This was supposed to be a calm and emotional time where they were supposed to comfort and console each other. His stomach was starting to ache with this sickly feeling as he turned away from the three molly apprentices. Hawkpaw had gone away after Fawnpaw had apologized for her outburst, so he couldn’t even deal with him right now. With a huff of exhaustion, Pikestar sank to the ground again, just in time to feel another cat’s comforting touch: Slumberpaw. The RiverClan apprentice brushed him with his tail and even gave him a gentle bump of his head as the oriental tomcat pressed his nose into Slatewhisker’s fur once more. Then Hollowstorm came over and started to bug him about something. An apprentice? Marking borders? Sending out patrols? Was he seriously doing this now? Goddamnit.
Initially, Pikestar just ignored him, not wanting to snap, not wanting to show his anger again. He couldn’t. It would hurt too much and he didn’t want to do this at Slatewhisker’s funeral. She didn’t deserve this kind of disrespect. However, many of his clanmates were not keen to ignore the warrior’s blatant disrespect. First was Fawnleap, then Marigoldleap, Gingerfrost too. Darklight, Bluebellpaw, Flintfang, Reedwhisker, Koipool, Adderscale, Flarepaw, Stormpaw. A sea of different voices sounded and Pikestar found it impossible to lock onto just one. Stars above, he just wanted to clasp his paws over his ears and drown it out. But he needed to be strong. He needed to be a leader. That’s what RiverClan deserved. “Please… stop fighting…” He whispered, though Pikestar wouldn’t be surprised if nobody heard his tiny plea for mercy. His head felt like it was being bashed against a rock and his stomach felt like it was doing uncomfortable flips against its will. Get a hold of yourself, Pikestar. Get a goddamn grip. Be an adult, be a man, be a leader for the love of StarClan. His body felt hot, like the kind of hot that one felt before fainting, but he forced himself to stand. “We must give Slatewhisker a proper burial in the Thicket. It’s what she deserves, a place of resting so that she can walk among the stars.” He meowed, looking at the body at his paws. Pikestar wondered if he had the strength to carry her himself. His body felt so weak, so tired, so overwhelmed. But it was what needed to be done. This was his deputy. She deserved to be carried by her leader to her grave. Pikestar lowered his head and grabbed Slatewhisker by her scruff, lifting the molly’s body off the ground and pushing her form onto his back. His legs trembled, threatening to collapse, but he prevailed, looking towards the camp entrance. “Hollowstorm. I ask you to stay back at camp.” Simple, and to the point. He didn’t want to see the tom’s face right now.
With that, he waited for a moment for those who wished to accompany him at the thicket to gather around him.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
( If there are any mistakes in this, I'm sorry aaa, been working on this all day. )
Koipool was one the first to gather to help bury Slatewhisker “Remember what I told you in your den, Pikestar? That still applies here.” She murmured lightly in a comforting tone.
__________________
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She closed her mouth like Pikestar asked, feeling hollow and scared. She didn't want to leave her mother, but it was a custom. She walked over to her leader, and planted herself by his side. "Please, Pikestar, can I go? I- I wanna make sure mama has a good send off." Her mouth came out more broken and tired than she would have liked, but she just lowered her head, praying, that she would be able to go. She wanted to be spend every last moment with her mother. She didn't want to leave Slatewhisker so soon.
➣ Burying his face into Slatewhisker’s fur and trying so desperately to figure out what to do, the tall oriental longhair felt so damn powerless and pathetic. How many more cats would suffer this fate because of him? Would Pikestar go down in history someday, many moons from now, as the leader who caused so many loyal RiverClan cats to die? Like he was some kind of bad luck charm? It terrified him, to feel like the cause of all this disaster and chaos in the clan that he had always loved so deeply. Thankfully, there were many cats who approached him soon after the grieving tomcat collapsed next to his deceased deputy. First was Mapledawn, who placed themselves beside him and soon would rest their tail along his shoulders, not saying anything but silently offering comfort to Pikestar. Rainwhisker was the next to console the crumbling clan leader, sitting nearby and reminding him that this was, in fact, not his fault. Her tone sported grief for this loss, but her words held a certain amount of wisdom that he desperately needed to cling to right about now. Then the comforting scent of Moonfrost would come to his senses and the mute molly would place herself beside him, their pelts brushing together. He uttered a small ‘mrr’ of acknowledgement to his dear friend, grateful for her presence. There were times that he felt alone within his own clan, but the truth was that he had many cats supporting him. Friends. Family.
Moments later, Bluepaw ran over to him and sat beside the oriental longhair, tears dripping down the young tom’s face. He had no problem with his apprentice’s presence, silently welcomed it even, but the question that the white-furred youth asked him made the RiverClan leader tense up. “What?” The single word echoed in his mind as he lifted his head to look at Bluepaw, his expression a clear mix of confusion and obvious fright. “Some rogues tried to kidnap you? When?” Once those words left his maw, Otterfluff appeared, having overheard Bluepaw apparently. He lifted his head to meet the brown-furred warrior’s gaze, which silently told him that this was a matter that would be discussed later. He didn’t look away from Otterfluff for a good few seconds before uttering a small sigh and nodding gently, before turning back to Slatewhisker’s body. He would deal with that mess at a later time, for sure. There was always another mess for him to clean up. Or try to, at least.
While returning to his grieving, Pikestar heard comments of who would take Slatewhisker’s place as RiverClan’s new deputy. However, that was the last thing that the oriental longhair wanted to think about right now. After seeing what happened to his loyal and hard-working deputy, how could he bear to choose another cat so soon? What if they suffered the same fate? He solemnly shook his head, not wanting to bother himself with such troubling, morbid thoughts. Pikestar just wanted to say goodbye to his second-in-command and make sure she was given a proper resting place. However, once again, his grieving was interrupted. To be completely honest, the dark-furred tomcat hadn’t even caught what started the whole event, but something that Hawkpaw—his own apprentice— had said clearly set off Fawnpaw. Personally, he had only seen the young medicine cat, who was basically a little sister to him, show such intense emotion a few special times. His ears pinned against his head, not wanting to deal with this right now. Why couldn’t everyone just stop fighting and just mourn in silence for the loss of Slatewhisker? Was that so hard? Why did everything have to be so loud and violent? Hadn’t RiverClan… hadn’t he himself… dealt with enough violence lately? His head was starting to hurt because of all the bickering and it was becoming increasingly harder for him not to cry. Then Cloudpaw’s voice rang through the clearing as she yowled curses at someone who was supposed to be her denmate. “CLOUDPAW.” Pikestar snapped, standing up to lock his partial gaze on the fluffy apprentice, who only stared back at him with defiance.
The two of them stared at one another for a heartbeat or two, not saying anything, but both clearly upset. He gave the young molly a look of understanding, since he knew why she had acted out as she did, but he silently tried to let her know that this was not the time or the place for such things. Nobody was right in this situation. Silverpaw, Hawkpaw, Cloudpaw, even Fawnpaw. All these young cats were snapping at each other while they were supposed to be grieving for Slatewhisker. This was supposed to be a calm and emotional time where they were supposed to comfort and console each other. His stomach was starting to ache with this sickly feeling as he turned away from the three molly apprentices. Hawkpaw had gone away after Fawnpaw had apologized for her outburst, so he couldn’t even deal with him right now. With a huff of exhaustion, Pikestar sank to the ground again, just in time to feel another cat’s comforting touch: Slumberpaw. The RiverClan apprentice brushed him with his tail and even gave him a gentle bump of his head as the oriental tomcat pressed his nose into Slatewhisker’s fur once more. Then Hollowstorm came over and started to bug him about something. An apprentice? Marking borders? Sending out patrols? Was he seriously doing this now? Goddamnit.
Initially, Pikestar just ignored him, not wanting to snap, not wanting to show his anger again. He couldn’t. It would hurt too much and he didn’t want to do this at Slatewhisker’s funeral. She didn’t deserve this kind of disrespect. However, many of his clanmates were not keen to ignore the warrior’s blatant disrespect. First was Fawnleap, then Marigoldleap, Gingerfrost too. Darklight, Bluebellpaw, Flintfang, Reedwhisker, Koipool, Adderscale, Flarepaw, Stormpaw. A sea of different voices sounded and Pikestar found it impossible to lock onto just one. Stars above, he just wanted to clasp his paws over his ears and drown it out. But he needed to be strong. He needed to be a leader. That’s what RiverClan deserved. “Please… stop fighting…” He whispered, though Pikestar wouldn’t be surprised if nobody heard his tiny plea for mercy. His head felt like it was being bashed against a rock and his stomach felt like it was doing uncomfortable flips against its will. Get a hold of yourself, Pikestar. Get a goddamn grip. Be an adult, be a man, be a leader for the love of StarClan. His body felt hot, like the kind of hot that one felt before fainting, but he forced himself to stand. “We must give Slatewhisker a proper burial in the Thicket. It’s what she deserves, a place of resting so that she can walk among the stars.” He meowed, looking at the body at his paws. Pikestar wondered if he had the strength to carry her himself. His body felt so weak, so tired, so overwhelmed. But it was what needed to be done. This was his deputy. She deserved to be carried by her leader to her grave. Pikestar lowered his head and grabbed Slatewhisker by her scruff, lifting the molly’s body off the ground and pushing her form onto his back. His legs trembled, threatening to collapse, but he prevailed, looking towards the camp entrance. “Hollowstorm. I ask you to stay back at camp.” Simple, and to the point. He didn’t want to see the tom’s face right now.
With that, he waited for a moment for those who wished to accompany him at the thicket to gather around him.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
( If there are any mistakes in this, I'm sorry aaa, been working on this all day. )
Hollowstorm dipped his head to Pikestar wishing to follow his leaders orders. He simply mewed, “Yes, sir.” He looked to Pikestar to ask if he could leave to go hunt, holding his gaze for a few moments before grabbing a rabbit off the freshkill pile and slipping into the nursery to give it to his mate.
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Mapledawn frowned at all the fighting between clanmates. She didn’t like this fighting, she stayed silent as they listened to Pikestar. They were disappointed in the others and she joined Pikestar side, letting him be able to lean on her if needed it. He seemed so weak and tired, while they wanted to give him as much support as she could.
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Last edited by perseus.; October 9th, 2022 at 01:29 AM.
➣ Burying his face into Slatewhisker’s fur and trying so desperately to figure out what to do, the tall oriental longhair felt so damn powerless and pathetic. How many more cats would suffer this fate because of him? Would Pikestar go down in history someday, many moons from now, as the leader who caused so many loyal RiverClan cats to die? Like he was some kind of bad luck charm? It terrified him, to feel like the cause of all this disaster and chaos in the clan that he had always loved so deeply. Thankfully, there were many cats who approached him soon after the grieving tomcat collapsed next to his deceased deputy. First was Mapledawn, who placed themselves beside him and soon would rest their tail along his shoulders, not saying anything but silently offering comfort to Pikestar. Rainwhisker was the next to console the crumbling clan leader, sitting nearby and reminding him that this was, in fact, not his fault. Her tone sported grief for this loss, but her words held a certain amount of wisdom that he desperately needed to cling to right about now. Then the comforting scent of Moonfrost would come to his senses and the mute molly would place herself beside him, their pelts brushing together. He uttered a small ‘mrr’ of acknowledgement to his dear friend, grateful for her presence. There were times that he felt alone within his own clan, but the truth was that he had many cats supporting him. Friends. Family.
Moments later, Bluepaw ran over to him and sat beside the oriental longhair, tears dripping down the young tom’s face. He had no problem with his apprentice’s presence, silently welcomed it even, but the question that the white-furred youth asked him made the RiverClan leader tense up. “What?” The single word echoed in his mind as he lifted his head to look at Bluepaw, his expression a clear mix of confusion and obvious fright. “Some rogues tried to kidnap you? When?” Once those words left his maw, Otterfluff appeared, having overheard Bluepaw apparently. He lifted his head to meet the brown-furred warrior’s gaze, which silently told him that this was a matter that would be discussed later. He didn’t look away from Otterfluff for a good few seconds before uttering a small sigh and nodding gently, before turning back to Slatewhisker’s body. He would deal with that mess at a later time, for sure. There was always another mess for him to clean up. Or try to, at least.
While returning to his grieving, Pikestar heard comments of who would take Slatewhisker’s place as RiverClan’s new deputy. However, that was the last thing that the oriental longhair wanted to think about right now. After seeing what happened to his loyal and hard-working deputy, how could he bear to choose another cat so soon? What if they suffered the same fate? He solemnly shook his head, not wanting to bother himself with such troubling, morbid thoughts. Pikestar just wanted to say goodbye to his second-in-command and make sure she was given a proper resting place. However, once again, his grieving was interrupted. To be completely honest, the dark-furred tomcat hadn’t even caught what started the whole event, but something that Hawkpaw—his own apprentice— had said clearly set off Fawnpaw. Personally, he had only seen the young medicine cat, who was basically a little sister to him, show such intense emotion a few special times. His ears pinned against his head, not wanting to deal with this right now. Why couldn’t everyone just stop fighting and just mourn in silence for the loss of Slatewhisker? Was that so hard? Why did everything have to be so loud and violent? Hadn’t RiverClan… hadn’t he himself… dealt with enough violence lately? His head was starting to hurt because of all the bickering and it was becoming increasingly harder for him not to cry. Then Cloudpaw’s voice rang through the clearing as she yowled curses at someone who was supposed to be her denmate. “CLOUDPAW.” Pikestar snapped, standing up to lock his partial gaze on the fluffy apprentice, who only stared back at him with defiance.
The two of them stared at one another for a heartbeat or two, not saying anything, but both clearly upset. He gave the young molly a look of understanding, since he knew why she had acted out as she did, but he silently tried to let her know that this was not the time or the place for such things. Nobody was right in this situation. Silverpaw, Hawkpaw, Cloudpaw, even Fawnpaw. All these young cats were snapping at each other while they were supposed to be grieving for Slatewhisker. This was supposed to be a calm and emotional time where they were supposed to comfort and console each other. His stomach was starting to ache with this sickly feeling as he turned away from the three molly apprentices. Hawkpaw had gone away after Fawnpaw had apologized for her outburst, so he couldn’t even deal with him right now. With a huff of exhaustion, Pikestar sank to the ground again, just in time to feel another cat’s comforting touch: Slumberpaw. The RiverClan apprentice brushed him with his tail and even gave him a gentle bump of his head as the oriental tomcat pressed his nose into Slatewhisker’s fur once more. Then Hollowstorm came over and started to bug him about something. An apprentice? Marking borders? Sending out patrols? Was he seriously doing this now? Goddamnit.
Initially, Pikestar just ignored him, not wanting to snap, not wanting to show his anger again. He couldn’t. It would hurt too much and he didn’t want to do this at Slatewhisker’s funeral. She didn’t deserve this kind of disrespect. However, many of his clanmates were not keen to ignore the warrior’s blatant disrespect. First was Fawnleap, then Marigoldleap, Gingerfrost too. Darklight, Bluebellpaw, Flintfang, Reedwhisker, Koipool, Adderscale, Flarepaw, Stormpaw. A sea of different voices sounded and Pikestar found it impossible to lock onto just one. Stars above, he just wanted to clasp his paws over his ears and drown it out. But he needed to be strong. He needed to be a leader. That’s what RiverClan deserved. “Please… stop fighting…” He whispered, though Pikestar wouldn’t be surprised if nobody heard his tiny plea for mercy. His head felt like it was being bashed against a rock and his stomach felt like it was doing uncomfortable flips against its will. Get a hold of yourself, Pikestar. Get a goddamn grip. Be an adult, be a man, be a leader for the love of StarClan. His body felt hot, like the kind of hot that one felt before fainting, but he forced himself to stand. “We must give Slatewhisker a proper burial in the Thicket. It’s what she deserves, a place of resting so that she can walk among the stars.” He meowed, looking at the body at his paws. Pikestar wondered if he had the strength to carry her himself. His body felt so weak, so tired, so overwhelmed. But it was what needed to be done. This was his deputy. She deserved to be carried by her leader to her grave. Pikestar lowered his head and grabbed Slatewhisker by her scruff, lifting the molly’s body off the ground and pushing her form onto his back. His legs trembled, threatening to collapse, but he prevailed, looking towards the camp entrance. “Hollowstorm. I ask you to stay back at camp.” Simple, and to the point. He didn’t want to see the tom’s face right now.
With that, he waited for a moment for those who wished to accompany him at the thicket to gather around him.
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( If there are any mistakes in this, I'm sorry aaa, been working on this all day. )
Reedwhisker couldn't help but feel more sorry for Pikestar than she ever had. His own apprentice caused an argument between so many of the apprentices present. His own warrior attempted to change the subject completely, ignoring Clan tradition. The leader was going through a lot at the moment, so the dark brown warrior didn't blame him one bit for being so upset over everything that was going on in the clearing.
"Pikestar, if I may give some advice... it's best to focus on one problem at a time," she murmured gently. "Breathe in, breathe out. Don't forget you have an entire Clan supporting you, we're all in this together."
Even though the tom might think of everything as a burden at the moment, the she-cat didn't give a second thought to telling him to relax and calm down as much as he could. A murder on the loose, Clanmates fighting, a warrior pushing to get an apprentice and urging Pikestar to ignore Clan tradition... it's chaotic right now. I can't imagine what must be going through his head. At least a shield was at the scene to help calm things down... hopefully.
She didn't dare to blink at Pikestar's orders to Hollowstorm. The tom had a point, and to help the situation diffuse, she wouldn't speak anymore to her denmate like she had when she was assigned as the temporary mentor to Nightpaw. Not even looking at Hollowstorm, Reedwhisker twitched her whiskers.
"I'll go with you to bury Slatewhisker," she told her dark gray leader.
-----------------------------------
Littlepaw was glad that the situation was diffusing and let herself relax as she watched Pikestar. Her heart stung for the older tom, but there was not much she could do as an apprentice. Tiredness was beginning to nag at her small frame, her paw steps began to get heavy. There was no way she'd keep up with those participating in the deputy's burial. Instead, she would stay behind and help anyone who needed it. She'd pay her respects to Slatewhisker at a later time when it wasn't so chaotic.
"Good luck, everyone," she whispered before dragging her paws to the apprentices' den.
__________________
Characters
Crow (Purrks: Heightened Perception, Agatha Kitty, Hulk SMASH, Dreamwalker)
Ravenhawk
Silverpaw felt her ears pin back as she heard a new voice snapping. It was Stormpaw. The small silver tabby hadn't expected her to say anything, at least not in such a way, but she truly admired her. She shuddered at Hollowstorms words, disgust plain on her face. She felt Fawnpaw crying. Turning with alarm, she started to stroke the she-cats back, hoping to provide comfort. "We've got this, Fawnie. You got this. You don't have to apologise I promise. You aren't and never will be alone." She hadn't noticed Flintfang until he sat next to her, fur brushing against eachother. She was really glad her big brother was here. So much was happening. Before long, Pikestar finally spoke. It was time to bury Slatewhisker. "I want to help, Pikestar. I'm sorry for my outburst. That isn't becoming of a future warrior of RiverClan." Of course, she wouldn't apologise to that stupid Hawkpaw. Not at all.
These days, Pondwhisker had become a tom of few words. He rarely got angry, and he was pretty gentle. Now, when the stupidity that was Hollowstorm spoke, he could feel the anger bubbling. He would let Pikestar handle the apprentices who had the outbursts, but the older cat would not allow such a cat disrespect his leader or the deputy. With a slight growl towards the cat now retreating to the nursery, Pondwhisker turned to Pikestar. "Let's lay her to rest, friend. She will have good hunting, and she will be waiting to meet us all again." He stood and shook out his fur. He was prepared to bury a Clanmate, but it hurt him so much that she had to be so young. He couldn't cry in front of his Clanmates; he'd deal with his grief in private. They needed someone strong, and he would be that for them.
He turned to a new apprentice, Bluebellpaw, who was Slatewhiskers daughter. "Come now, darlin'. We're gonna pick out the best spot for your mama, alright? I promise you that." He got down to her level, as she was much smaller than him, and smiled gently. He waved his paw to Snowkit as well, who was still clinging to Gingerfrost. "Come now, Snowflake. You'll be safe with Gingerfrost and I." He hoped the small cat didn't mind the big tabbys nickname for her.
➣ Burying his face into Slatewhisker’s fur and trying so desperately to figure out what to do, the tall oriental longhair felt so damn powerless and pathetic. How many more cats would suffer this fate because of him? Would Pikestar go down in history someday, many moons from now, as the leader who caused so many loyal RiverClan cats to die? Like he was some kind of bad luck charm? It terrified him, to feel like the cause of all this disaster and chaos in the clan that he had always loved so deeply. Thankfully, there were many cats who approached him soon after the grieving tomcat collapsed next to his deceased deputy. First was Mapledawn, who placed themselves beside him and soon would rest their tail along his shoulders, not saying anything but silently offering comfort to Pikestar. Rainwhisker was the next to console the crumbling clan leader, sitting nearby and reminding him that this was, in fact, not his fault. Her tone sported grief for this loss, but her words held a certain amount of wisdom that he desperately needed to cling to right about now. Then the comforting scent of Moonfrost would come to his senses and the mute molly would place herself beside him, their pelts brushing together. He uttered a small ‘mrr’ of acknowledgement to his dear friend, grateful for her presence. There were times that he felt alone within his own clan, but the truth was that he had many cats supporting him. Friends. Family.
Moments later, Bluepaw ran over to him and sat beside the oriental longhair, tears dripping down the young tom’s face. He had no problem with his apprentice’s presence, silently welcomed it even, but the question that the white-furred youth asked him made the RiverClan leader tense up. “What?” The single word echoed in his mind as he lifted his head to look at Bluepaw, his expression a clear mix of confusion and obvious fright. “Some rogues tried to kidnap you? When?” Once those words left his maw, Otterfluff appeared, having overheard Bluepaw apparently. He lifted his head to meet the brown-furred warrior’s gaze, which silently told him that this was a matter that would be discussed later. He didn’t look away from Otterfluff for a good few seconds before uttering a small sigh and nodding gently, before turning back to Slatewhisker’s body. He would deal with that mess at a later time, for sure. There was always another mess for him to clean up. Or try to, at least.
While returning to his grieving, Pikestar heard comments of who would take Slatewhisker’s place as RiverClan’s new deputy. However, that was the last thing that the oriental longhair wanted to think about right now. After seeing what happened to his loyal and hard-working deputy, how could he bear to choose another cat so soon? What if they suffered the same fate? He solemnly shook his head, not wanting to bother himself with such troubling, morbid thoughts. Pikestar just wanted to say goodbye to his second-in-command and make sure she was given a proper resting place. However, once again, his grieving was interrupted. To be completely honest, the dark-furred tomcat hadn’t even caught what started the whole event, but something that Hawkpaw—his own apprentice— had said clearly set off Fawnpaw. Personally, he had only seen the young medicine cat, who was basically a little sister to him, show such intense emotion a few special times. His ears pinned against his head, not wanting to deal with this right now. Why couldn’t everyone just stop fighting and just mourn in silence for the loss of Slatewhisker? Was that so hard? Why did everything have to be so loud and violent? Hadn’t RiverClan… hadn’t he himself… dealt with enough violence lately? His head was starting to hurt because of all the bickering and it was becoming increasingly harder for him not to cry. Then Cloudpaw’s voice rang through the clearing as she yowled curses at someone who was supposed to be her denmate. “CLOUDPAW.” Pikestar snapped, standing up to lock his partial gaze on the fluffy apprentice, who only stared back at him with defiance.
The two of them stared at one another for a heartbeat or two, not saying anything, but both clearly upset. He gave the young molly a look of understanding, since he knew why she had acted out as she did, but he silently tried to let her know that this was not the time or the place for such things. Nobody was right in this situation. Silverpaw, Hawkpaw, Cloudpaw, even Fawnpaw. All these young cats were snapping at each other while they were supposed to be grieving for Slatewhisker. This was supposed to be a calm and emotional time where they were supposed to comfort and console each other. His stomach was starting to ache with this sickly feeling as he turned away from the three molly apprentices. Hawkpaw had gone away after Fawnpaw had apologized for her outburst, so he couldn’t even deal with him right now. With a huff of exhaustion, Pikestar sank to the ground again, just in time to feel another cat’s comforting touch: Slumberpaw. The RiverClan apprentice brushed him with his tail and even gave him a gentle bump of his head as the oriental tomcat pressed his nose into Slatewhisker’s fur once more. Then Hollowstorm came over and started to bug him about something. An apprentice? Marking borders? Sending out patrols? Was he seriously doing this now? Goddamnit.
Initially, Pikestar just ignored him, not wanting to snap, not wanting to show his anger again. He couldn’t. It would hurt too much and he didn’t want to do this at Slatewhisker’s funeral. She didn’t deserve this kind of disrespect. However, many of his clanmates were not keen to ignore the warrior’s blatant disrespect. First was Fawnleap, then Marigoldleap, Gingerfrost too. Darklight, Bluebellpaw, Flintfang, Reedwhisker, Koipool, Adderscale, Flarepaw, Stormpaw. A sea of different voices sounded and Pikestar found it impossible to lock onto just one. Stars above, he just wanted to clasp his paws over his ears and drown it out. But he needed to be strong. He needed to be a leader. That’s what RiverClan deserved. “Please… stop fighting…” He whispered, though Pikestar wouldn’t be surprised if nobody heard his tiny plea for mercy. His head felt like it was being bashed against a rock and his stomach felt like it was doing uncomfortable flips against its will. Get a hold of yourself, Pikestar. Get a goddamn grip. Be an adult, be a man, be a leader for the love of StarClan. His body felt hot, like the kind of hot that one felt before fainting, but he forced himself to stand. “We must give Slatewhisker a proper burial in the Thicket. It’s what she deserves, a place of resting so that she can walk among the stars.” He meowed, looking at the body at his paws. Pikestar wondered if he had the strength to carry her himself. His body felt so weak, so tired, so overwhelmed. But it was what needed to be done. This was his deputy. She deserved to be carried by her leader to her grave. Pikestar lowered his head and grabbed Slatewhisker by her scruff, lifting the molly’s body off the ground and pushing her form onto his back. His legs trembled, threatening to collapse, but he prevailed, looking towards the camp entrance. “Hollowstorm. I ask you to stay back at camp.” Simple, and to the point. He didn’t want to see the tom’s face right now.
With that, he waited for a moment for those who wished to accompany him at the thicket to gather around him.
⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻
( If there are any mistakes in this, I'm sorry aaa, been working on this all day. )
She nodded a little, happier. She felt a little warmer and fuzzier on the inside that at least Mr. Pondwhisker wouldn't stop her from sending her mother off. The perfect spot for her mother. She remembered something, and dashed off to her den, scrabbling through her nest, before pulled out a rock. It was nearly split in half, and the insides has swirls of white and gray that reminded her of her mother. She'd given this to Slatewhisker when she had came to visit her, and Bluebellpaw wanted to her mother to have it. She would bury it with her mother.
Re: RiverClan Clearing
Re: RiverClan Clearing
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