[ open ] -- MoonClan

{ Morningshadow, Quietpaw, Swanpaw, and Asterfur} 
MeadowClan Camp

;;;

Morningshadow wondered if there was a technical term for the faint buzzing occupying her mind like a fog made entirely out of mosquitoes. The only word she could come up with was mental whiplash: a surprise so unexpected that it provoked a physical reaction.

                                   The clan leadership was dead.

It seemed as if there had been a sudden earthquake in camp, one that tore open the very foundation of the clan itself, and left a jagged chasm right at the center of it. Morningshadow wanted to look over that chasm but she was afraid of what she would find. It smelled of death, of conflict. Of, well, any variety of terrible things. Or at least it would, if it existed in reality. Rather, Morningshadow was just standing on the edge of camp staring dreadfully at where Yarrowstar’s body had lain earlier during the vigil. The chasm seemed as much a reality as the synchronous death of both leader and deputy, which is to say neither should have ever been able to happen.

Moor knew she had to shake herself out of this stupor, that she needed to accept the current situation and work through it, like the strong and capable warrior she was. She did not feel strong nor capable right now, though. She felt like a kit, longing for the comfort of her mother’s tongue along her spine.

StarClan. If Jayflight could see her now.

She could imagine the look in his eyes (a light blue, like the very distant recesses of the sky, so beautiful she could get lost in them – and often did) slightly narrowed but vocal in his silence: pathetic, they would say. He loved her for her ambition, her assertiveness. She was the one who originally pursued him. In her every moment of weakness Morningshadow saw his judgement pass through his eyes. It was as if she could see him questioning why he was even with her in the first place. She was a failure. She should have done more. Maybe if she had been better, had kept up with her previous energy, he would have stayed. But none of that mattered now.

She could sit here and grieve about the left and dead until leaf-bare began and it would do no good for the clan. This was her chance, maybe, to prove herself - to step in and actually do something of worth. Moor shook her head, as if literally rising from a trance, and scanned the camp. Briarcurl and Stormcreek were grooming each other, seemingly too caught up in their own affection to even notice anything else going on. (Not that there was much of anything else going on.) Standing alone, however, Maplelight stood out like a beacon. Morningshadow had always admired the she-cat; yes, she was terrifying, in the way that all beautiful things are, but she was also one of the clan’s best warriors. Morningshadow would not have been surprised if the tortoiseshell she-cat had been named deputy, given that Birchfur and Yarrowstar had not both died.

Now, she supposed, the new leadership would be up to StarClan. Or Duskwater. Same difference, she supposed. Anyways, as Morningshadow approached Maplelight, holding her tail up in welcome and chirping a, “Hey, Maplelight. Do you know if any hunting patrols have been sent out for the day?” the she-cat in questions apprentice wandered into camp.

Quietpaw followed her brother at less than a tails length, almost as if she were hiding behind him. It helped that Swanpaw was significantly larger than her, allowing for her to hide in his shadow as if it were cast just for her.

“You think anyone noticed we were gone?” she mewed, softly, as was her natural voice. After the vigil Swanpaw had been so upset that he stormed out of camp to brood somewhere on the shoreline, kicking pebbles, tearing at moss, releasing his grief in grandiose outward displays. Quietpaw had followed him. She knew he liked to be alone but – well, she didn’t. And there was no one else she could turn to. Not with their parents dead. Not with the two cats she had looked up to for her entire life. Swanpaw was the one blip of light in what was otherwise empty space; a single, lonely star. Quietpaw wondered if her attachment to him made her clingy. Probably. Wow. That sucked.

“Doubt it”, the gray tabby replied, casting a quick glance over at his sister. “I’m sure everyone is really busy with, I don’t know, figuring out who the new leader is supposed to be.” Quietpaw wasn’t sure if he meant to be mean, but Swanpaw’s tone often came across as scathing. “I feel like it’s gonna be Lynxclaw. I'd bet a weeks work of patrols on it.”

“We shouldn’t guess the will of StarClan” Quietpaw replied, eyes lowered to the ground. “I’m sure they’ll decide what’s right.”

Swanpaw shrugged, to the extent that a cat can. “I’m just speculating. No harm in that.”

Far away from the two apprentices conversation, Asterfur sat on a rock somewhere in what would have been WindClan territory had the clans made it to the lake intact. He hadn’t been back to camp in over a day; he was completing some kind of social-fast, living alone off the land. He had contemplating leaving the clan many a time, but decided against it after realizing how much work it is to take care of oneself. No. Life was easy out here. He wasn’t happy, but perhaps vaguely content. He did not even know that Yarrowstar and Birchfur had died.