sensitive topics will you help me hide a body // announcement

HUMBLE MY BONES WITH A CARDIAC
siltpaw | 09 months | female | she/her | physically medium | mentally easy | attack in bold color
Blood stains the white of her paws as Siltpaw flings herself into the camp - hoping to draw all eyes upon herself and her frail cinnamon frame. Thank you poppypaw... she thinks to herself, as eyes water and her body quivers as though she has just spent the night out in the cold. "H-help! Somebody help!" voice wavers - for the first time since her very creation, siltpaw actually shouts - it comes out more like a shrill screech than anything, but it's all the same in the end. "P-pitchstar... he-" she looks absolutely frantic, an anxious, stumbling, stuttering mess. She's never been good in situations like this after all - everyone knows she's hardly more than a little teachers pet, than a little pushover. She's skin and bones and light as a feather - it's no wonder she seems about to topple over any minute. "The thunderpath- he- we- there was a rogue and they must've attacked pitchstar before we got there- and, and, and please, he just keeps losing his lives! Somebody get starlingheart!" her explanation is rushed, and she collapses into a pile of limbs, leaning heavily upon her brother the moment he joins her side.

// please wait for @GRANITEPAW
this is a continuation of this thread
 
Granitepaw trails Siltpaw, and the moment he hears her voice pierce the quiet of camp, his heart begins to flutter again. She knows what he's doing, he tries to soothe himself, but how can she? She's never covered for a murder before, just like he's never murdered. Granitepaw remembers her words to him -- act angry, act however, but let her do the talking.

He's inclined to agree.

He lets his gait quicken until he's bursting into camp after her. He becomes Siltpaw's shadow, for once, rather than vice versa, and he lets the easy mask of anger cloak his face and body. Tension is high -- his shoulders, his spine, his tail, his whole body is tense as a line of spidersilk held taught. Granitepaw shakes his head and spits, "The rogue got away before I could kill him myself." Granitepaw wants to say more, so much more, but he doesn't -- he remembers Siltpaw's expression, her warning. Let me do the talking.

Instead, he lashes his tail, and he's relieved to find the body language of rage comes easily enough to him despite his inner panic. Granitepaw wants to hurt someone, and that's never really changed -- even after his first murder.

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
 

He was less hungry than before, now. Things were getting better. Another winter, survived with stubbornness and spite. That is how he got along, after all. He was sitting in the clearing, fur cleaned from the dirt and mats that had plagued it recently. He was happy, it was more comfortable this way. With newleaf on its way, he could finally live, and not just survive. The sun was setting, and he would soon be heading out to hunt.

He thought so, at least. Siltpaw and Granitepaw came rushing into the camp, and covered in blood, besides. He sprung to his feet with ease now, stepping forward as he listened to her speak.

All he really needed to hear was her tone, Pitchstar, and Thunderpath.

No. Not again, Starclan don't you dare.

Words kept being spoken. A rogue.

A cat to kill.

Granitepaw couldn't catch him, could he? If only he were as good at chasing as he was spitting venom. Lips curled, but not at the two apprentices. His icy glare was set behind them. Starlingheart no doubt could hear what was being said, but just to be sure, he tore his gaze away and called back to the medicine den.

"Starlingheart! Pitchstar is in trouble- we need you!" He called, and then strode for the camp exit.

"I'll make sure the bastard didn't come back..And if he did.... I'll rip him apart." He said with venom. The rogue better be off their territory, or he better pray Frostbite doesn't find him.
 

So I walk alone down the darkest roads

Everything was going...swell for the moment, it seems with the warmer weather that's coming their hope for more prey was around the corner, meaning less chance of starvation...warmer weather, oh how she was eager for it, to soak in the warmth of the sun's ray once more. Of course, those thoughts were broken by the shrill shriek of the normally quiet Siltpaw, saying something about Pitchstar and her eyes narrowed slightly as she got onto her paws following to stand near Frostbite. "Did you see what direction the rogue went into?" she questioned the two apprentices.

Foolish, Pitchstar was an utter fool, leaving camp when he had still been weak, why hadn't he brought warriors with him? Her tail swayed in calm motions as her ocean-blue gaze danced on the other's forms, she wasn't worried, Pitchstar should be fine...right? Starclan wouldn't deprive the clan away of another leader, would they? He'll survive, as he always had in the past. "Did you catch a good look of the rogue?" she asked, her words calm.

Should they prepare for the worse? Would she even mourn for the loss of the leader if he was taken from them? She never had before, she never shed a tear or cried for the loss of another, her face always stoned and cold...emotionless, and she wondered, how would Starlingheart react...or the other siblings of Pitchstar, they had lost so many and yet she sighed a bit. Pitchstar was strong, a fool but strong, no way he'd lose all of his lives by a simple rogue now, that would be...pathetic, now wouldn't it? Their great leader...defeated by a rogue. Had leaf-bare really effected them so?
"speak""Thoughts"
 
Nettlepaw_icon.png
He's awakened from a fitful nap in a startle as a ruckus disturbs the camp entrance, Siltpaw flinging herself in with a pathetic cry for help. Dreary and half-asleep, Nettlepaw stumbles from the apprentice den with wild lime green eyes, looking for any attack, any threat in camp before his bleary gaze rests on that of his friend, one of few cats he trusts, who is... covered in blood. Instantly his brow knits in confusion of if it's her own blood before his teeth bare and nose wrinkles, claws slipping from their sheaths but as he's getting ready to spit vitriol and claim vengeance, she keeps talking. And every single word is worse then the last one.

P-pitchstar
Thunderpath
rogue
attacked
he just keeps losing lives


Nettlepaw can feel it as the ice creeps up his veins and horror enters his multi-toned face, tail that was moments ago thrashing in agitation now laid limply behind him as it's like a blow after blow keeps hitting him, looking at the dusty pelted face of his friend as she just collapses against Granitepaw. Everything everyone says is muffled in his ears, feeling his vision start to blur as warmth overwhelms his senses, tingling as his breath begins to pick up. I have to go. I have to go, i have to go, i have to go. As suddenly as everything was muffled like cotton in his ears, it's loud again. Someone is calling for his sister, Ravenwatcher is asking... stupid fucking questions, and Nettlepaw can't stand to be in camp while they just talk. "We-we have to go! We have to go! I-It-it's-" It's like Mom. His tone is overwhelmed, panicked, as his voice struggles, weak and pathetic, from his swollen throat. God he never got along with his older brother, he was a pompous, know-it-all jerk but he was his brother and he was alone. But I don't want to go alone, I don't want to see that again, I can't hear those cries again, I can't, His mind held him back from rushing blindly into the marsh, hunting down his brother and being there for him, fear anchoring his legs in place as he could do nothing but look at his clanmates, the warriors, for direction, for help as a few stray tears slipped their way down his face.

"speech here"





  • text here


  • Nettlepaw_icon.png

    8 Moons | Angsty | Anti-Authority | full biography

    General Information
    - NETTLEPAW, Transmasc (He/Him)
    - 8 moons, ages with littermates
    - Apprentice of Shadowclan, clanborn
    - extra info

    Appearance
    Small spiky-haired, chocolate-tabby-and-black chimera with low-white and stark green eyes , reference by me(angelkisses) | 100% physical health, 76% mental health
    - smells like mud, wet-animal, filth, and just plainly gross
    - injuries, if applicable

    Mentality & Interactions
    - INFP, Chaotic Good
    - values family, equity, mercy, and respect
    - finds it sort of hard to trust others but mostly because he's focused on his family and ensuring they are protected
    - fears the thunderpath; has a resting bitch face
    - will start fights / may flee / likely to show mercy
    - skilled in stamina based skills | very weak in strength-based skills
    - attack in underline

    Relations
    BRIARSTAR xx AMBER | mate to [who] | crushing on [who]
    Littermate to Starlingheart, Lilacpaw, Marrowpaw, Twilightpaw, Ravenpaw, Dustpaw | Younger sibiling to Pitchstar, Lichentail, Adderjaw, Hollyfrost
    children, if applicable

 
  • Crying
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DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP

there is a certain way that death creeps up on you. no matter if you are expecting it, or not, you just don't know when its going to grab you. it's merciless. and it does not forget anyone. to cheat death is only to delay the inevitable. no one escaped death and the absolute bone shaking grief it left behind. no one could get away from it, even if they ran faster than a monster upon the thunderpath. it was relentless.

chilledgaze has seen a lot of it and the damaged it caused. they didn't exactly deal with it in a healthy manner, either. to grief, chilledgaze would have needed to take time away. they couldn't do that. their clan needed them. minkpaw needed them. spectermask needed them. pitchstar needed– pitchstar.

they're pulled from the warriors den by the commotion of everything, ears twitching slightly as they looked at siltpaw and granitepaw. they spoke of pitchstar, and a rogue, and how he was losing his lives over and over– just like his mother. un. his first life is lost to a traitor. a traitor and a liar. a liar and a snake. deux. the next one was lost when they were so desperate to get food that he led a patrol to the carrionplace. a rat rips his throat and he falls dead, bleeding and bleeding and bleeding. trois. the same bite is not treated properly. pitchstar never was that clean of a cat, and that certainly didn't help. it is infected and he dies... only good that comes from that is that starlingheart now knew how to properly treat them. quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf. nine. his last life is ripped from its body and he dies one final time. he has no more reserves in the well. it's gone, and so is he.

this was their fault. they had told him to go take a walk... nagged him about it. they didn't mean any harm– of course not, pitchstar was one of their best friends– they just wanted him to enjoy some time to himself. but it didn't work like that... a rogue had found him and with everyone as weak as they were, he can't properly fight back. his lives are torn from him, just like briarstar's had been. did starclan really hate them so much? why had this happened again? and why did it have to happen to him?

un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf.

nine. nine lives, nine chances, nine do-overs. and they were all gone, just like that. they blink their eyes slowly, and it's almost as if the news hasn't quite reached them. they don't realize the severity. they don't understand what this means for them, for starlingheart, for all of the briar kits that were left behind, for the clan. the clans. there was a rogue running wild... killing leaders. killing... in general. time seems to move in slow motion and with a grunt, they make their way forward.

"where? show me. take me to him."

they almost plead but they won't. not now. and they won't wait for starlingheart either. they needed to see him first. they have to get to him first, try and save him. he can't be gone. he can't be. don't be gone. don't be gone. they look over at the apprentices for a moment before just jerking their head away. they couldn't wait for them either.

un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf.

9 hours. 9 minutes. 9 seconds. it didn't matter. they were too late. this had been their fault. if they hadn't pushed– if they'd just left him be– they push out of camp, tail lashing behind them. it's not that hard to track the scents of all of them. they all come from a direction that they can follow. they're a good hunter they knew how to find what they were looking for. they'd trained forestshade to do the same. she could find anything, anywhere, and her blindness didn't stop her. chilledgaze was not going to let anything stop them, either. they continued on, nose twitching back and forth and back again. they didn't know if anyone had followed them and they didn't care either. they had no concern but their friend. their best friend. their leader.

their world stops. there is no beat, no melody. nothing is left. they are hesitant to even approach the body. it doesn't look right. he's supposed to be alive. they're supposed to be laughing at others. they are supposed to gossip about all the things they hate about the other clans. about all the stupid little things. there wouldn't be a laugh anymore. it was gone, it was gone– he was gone.

"you... you jackass! you mother-fucker! you mouse brained asshole! get up, damn it! get up! you promised! you fucking promised!"

they can't breathe. they can't. a promise broken. a heart shattered. many wouldn't miss him but they would. they always would.

"the day you become deputy, you promised me that you'd be okay. before you became deputy when we became friends– best friends– you promised me that you would never leave me! and I fucking believed you, like an idiot! you– I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have told you to go on the walk. I should have left you alone. I... should have came with you or I should have... I don't know. i don't know! just get up!"

they don't even realize that the tears have fallen down their face. they don't even realize that their chest is rising and falling way too fast. they... need to wait for starlingheart. she can fix it, right? she can save him. keep him from the claws of starclan, right? they began to pace, claws slowly coming out as they bared their teeth. they wiped away their tears angrily– only just now feeling the dampness on their cheek– tail lashing back and forth. they're on guard. they can't let anyone near his body. they can't.

you know he's gone. just stop.

a voice says, and they can't listen. they can't. they won't. he can't leave me. he promised, okay? he fucking promised.
 
  • Crying
Reactions: nico



60775220_fzsfjrIK6J5OQK1.gif
Cursed. The word floats around so easily in regards to her family, in regards to the leaders of Shadow Clan and she is inclined to believe it. How was it possible for this to keep happening? Her mother and father are dead, her aunt is a traitor and what remains of their family is broken. All she has now is Pitchstar and Granitepaw.

She is in her den when the wailing begins. Her ears press flat against her head trying to block out the awful sound until she hears her name somewhere in the mix and she lets out a petulant sigh, asking herself who stubbed their toe now. Sometimes cats here could be so dramatic.

She freezes though the second she walks from her den and her round green eyes find the crowd. Her ears pick up strings of conversation, hushed whispers and glances cast her way and already she knows it is not good news. “Pitchstar. Dead. Thunderpath” these are the words she hears on repeat from the gathered cats and it’s enough to make her take a step back, back to the safety of her den, the comfort of her nest, back where she can pretend like none of this was happening and she hadn’t heard anything. She closes her eyes tight and forces herself forward on shaky paws. Tears already sting her eyes but she holds them back. There would be time for mourning later. Right now she had to be strong, her clan all looked to her when there was trouble. And Pitchstar, she adds silently but if what they were saying was true that would be no more. Her eyes find Chilledgaze in the crowd, instinctually searching out the next highest ranking adult but they look worse off than anyone else here. She immediately goes to them though her feet protest every second of the way. It should not be like this, her brain tells her. The adults should be comforting her, not the other way around and yet here she is. At Chilledgazes side instead of Granitepaws, where she wants to be.

"Ch-chilled calm-calm down" easier said than done but she murmurs softly and gently in their ear. "w-we can we can gr-greive later b-but right now, right now the wh-whole clan is look-l-looking at you - at us for for guidance. Y-you have to you have to be st-strong" she doesn’t know if she’s telling them or herself. Her green eyes find Granitepaws and in them she sees anger and she’s certain he’s angry at himself for letting her brothers murderer get away. Later, they would comfort each other, in the privacy of her den, but right now they had a body to retrieve, a body to bury.

 
DON'T YOU GIVE ME UP, PLEASE DON'T GIVE UP

//hope yall don't mind the double post ! don't feel intimidated or pressured by this one! it's just a silly little realization!!

they stop their pacing as starlingheart approaches. they didn't even talk for a moment, eyes only lowering to the medicine cat who is quick to... comfort them? this felt wrong. this was wrong. chilledgaze was... to be leader now. they begin to understand, to realize. and the sound of the words makes the cogs within their brain continue to work. you have to be strong. the medicine cat so graciously stutters out, and it makes chilledgaze stop. everything. their eyes shrink back for a second before they nod in agreement. they could grieve later, but for now... they had a clan to lead. they took in a breath, claws flexing before they moved to gently brush their tongue against starlingheart's cheek.

"thank you. i had lost myself for a moment. it won't happen again. and if... if you need to cry or anything... please do. don't... don't hold it in. it's not healthy."

such a hypocrite they are for telling her this, but there were a lot of differences between starlingheart and chilledgaze. for one, starlingheart was still a kit. sure, she was old enough to be an apprentice, but not quite old enough to be a warrior, had that been her path. but starclan was cruel and she had become a full medicine cat right at the age of 6 months old. secondly, she wasn't the next leader. she didn't have cats that would be looking at her for guidance and direction. comfort maybe, but not the others. and lastly... pitchstar is– was– her brother. that was plenty of reason right there. and now, chilledgaze needed to pull themself together. no one else would see them like that. they just... needed that. just for a moment.

"right. okay, i know he's not coming back. he has joined your mother and all who's been lost to us this leafbare. if he had anymore lives he'd be awake. which... makes me leader now."

they almost wince at the words but they don't move any longer. they furrowed their brows once more. leader. they're leader. they're not sure they'd ever truly enjoy those words.

"i don't want anyone else to really see him like this. he may have not cared about his appearance anymore but I'm sure he's as handsome as ever in starclan. he deserves that here too. we need to take him back... so everyone can properly grief before we bury him."

that sounded leader like, right? they weren't sure. it wasn't as if they had the greatest of guides on how to do this. I'm... going to be leader. i don't think chilledstar has ever crossed my mind... let alone this soon. they didn't have a choice. starlingheart was right. they had to be strong, even if everyone else fell apart.
 


Morbid howlings hit his ears. Straightaway, Smogmaw swivels his head towards the source of the sound: a throng of his clanmates, gathered at the margin of camp. He cannot fully observe this scene from the inside of the warrior's den, though individual faces can be picked out amongst the brambles. There's Granitepaw, standing stiff like his namesake, shrouded in the pall of his hazel-flecked sister, who appears to be the one responsible for the shrieking. Others circle around them with expressions of stark horror written into their features, and considering Siltpaw's words, their dread is justified. Their leader lays dying. Butchered like a scrap of fresh-kill.

Seeing how the bulk of the clan is related to Pitchstar by some means or other, Smogmaw can understand why this would be a shocking, if not terrifying revelation. Those who wished for safer days in the wake of a dreadful season would also be in for a nasty surprise. As he trails after Chilledgaze out of the bush, however, the mackerel tabby's bearing is as sombre as it typically was. He remains silent, but stalwart, holding a steadfast gaze upon those around him as he absorbs every bit of new information.

"Only a fool would linger in our territory after doing such a thing," he remarks, seeking to dispel any further causes of concern. The deputy, medicine cat, and a couple of warriors tear out of camp as he speaks, so he chiefly addresses the two apprentices. "Still. Stay here. We'll be back shortly."

At a pace more languid than that of his peers, Smogmaw embarks in the direction they had set off in. His gait is wavering, irresolute, uncertain. He walks upon reluctant limbs which desire to plant themselves in the miry floor and halt completely. A hallow sigh parts from his throat when he inevitably crosses the camp's threshold.

This, this really is it. It's difficult to process, a tough thing to swallow, but this is exactly what he has been anticipating. Not exclusively the death of their leader, no, but rather the restructuring of the clan's pecking order. Pitchstar had not filled the gap left behind by Flickerfire. Geckoscreech has been confined to that cave for moons. A disintegration of the status quo shall be inescapable if Chilledgaze ascends to power within the next moon, and all he can see at the present is the myriad of ways this will benefit him.

He is brought back into focus by faint sorrowing. Chilledgaze's faint sorrowing. Sensing that he must be close, Smogmaw's steps become strides and he increases in speed, until he happens upon the grisly scene. There's no use going into gruesome detail about what he perceives. The key point is Pitchstar isn't coming back. The deputy, who struggles to collect themselves nearby, becomes the object of Smogmaw's focus. Starlingheart is correct. It is imperative for them to be strong.

"For him to die so quickly," he speaks, glimpsing the other feline's icy gaze, "it leaves you with a lot to do, and without a lot of time to plan." Pitchstar is now the second of ShadowClan's leaders to perish in such an abrupt manner, as though their remaining lives held no tangible value. This thrusts the dark-toned deputy—well, dark-toned leader into a realm of rules and responsibilities they might not have yet prepared for. For his own sake, he hopes they can adapt quickly. "We'll bring him back... then what? Where do we go from here?"

 
death is something he knows but doesn't understand. winter-born, flamekit has been surrounded by tragedy throughout the entirety of his short life; starvation and infection have taken a lot of cats to starclan. it's a part of life that a warrior once had to explain to him and his siblings when a limp form was hauled from the medicine cat's den one morning. they'd looked like they'd been sleeping. the warrior had said that they were sleeping, in a way. (trying to find a gentle way to break it to the children who listened with wide eyes, no doubt.)

flamekit doesn't understand why the adults seemed to fear death. if it's like sleeping, then the dead will just wake up eventually, right? but every time he says that to a grieving clanmate, crouched over the sleeping figure of another dead feline, they look at him with something he couldn't explain in their teary eyes. they would usually shake their head, telling him that it isn't that simple. but no one ever elaborates, not even his own parents.

death is only an acquaintance, someone he knows of but is not familiar with.

it visits shadowclan again today. flamekit's sitting outside of the nursery, trying to catch his breath after a tussle with one of his littermates as fast as possible so that he could resume playing when siltpaw bursts through the entrance. countless pairs of wide eyes turn to her, flamekit's following. she's breathing heavily as he does after a particularly intense play-fight, but something tells him that isn't why. maybe it's the crimson on her paws—blood, he thinks. but he's never seen so much of it. only droplets after having a thorn plucked from a clumsy paw.

siltpaw's crying for help. this isn't like the games flamekit plays with his siblings, where one of them pretends to be a big, scary badger and one pretends to be a scared kit in need of saving by the other two brave warriors. this is real, too real, and flamekit's spine arches. fiery fur bristles, fluffing out, making the kitten look just a little less puny. no, this isn't a game. pitchstar is in trouble, and all of the adults around him are scared. they're angry. and flamekit is, too.

but pitchstar is going to be fine, right? he has a ton of lives, others have explained to him. pitchstar wakes up a lot faster than other dead cats. in flamekit's mind, the rosette tabby is practically immortal. he's not going to die.

a bunch of warriors are starting to leave, flamekit thinks they must be going to help pitchstar, and he tries to follow. he ignores how hard his heart pounds inside of his tight chest, which for some reason seems to be making breathing harder than before. the warriors are going to do something important, and he wants to be a warrior, too. "i wanna help!" he wants to be useful. he wants to help rescue pitchstar. maybe then his parents will praise him, and he'll become an apprentice. ravenwatcher's questions feed the fire inside of him, his fuzzy kitten tail lashing. "i'll beat up the rogue real good!"
 
( ) Siltpaw's wails have Adderjaw awake immediately, from where she had been napping with in a now-shattered peace. She listens to the apprentice's words in a half-awake daze, eyes glassy and chest tightening, tightening, tightening with each word. Pitchstar. Pitchstar. Her brother. Her brother, who she hates. He's dying, losing all of his lives, maybe for good. It doesn't feel real, doesn't feel like it should be happening. Maybe she's still dreaming. She doesn't know why she feels so cold.

Adderjaw moves slowly, each step deliberate, face blank. It feels like pushing through water, through a fog so thick it clings to her limbs trying to pull her back to the realm of dreams, away from this world. Amber is dead. Briarstar is dead. Pitchstar... Well, perhaps their family truly has been forsaken. Is Lichentail next, Hollyfrost? Will the young ones be alright? She barely knows them, she realizes. It was purposeful, protective, so that she might not be hurt when they die. She thought she wouldn't care about Pitchstar's death either, when it came. If it came. It was always an unreal thought, a hypothetical. Maybe she'd die before any of the rest of her family, and it'd be easier. Part of her had hoped for it, truly.

Right. Now. Here. Pitchstar is dead -- no, dying, not dead. The thought is hollow. She should want him dead, right? She should... She resents him, loathes him, even. Her mother picked him as deputy, him as leader. And what an unfitting, unworthy leader he was. Is. Is, because maybe he's not dead yet and she shouldn't care.

A new, panicked voice. Nettlepaw, her younger brother, and the sight of him in such distress floods her vice-gripped chest with despair. Nettlepaw is young, too young, far too young to face such horror. A small, neglected part of her longs to comfort him, to reassure, but she knows not how. Her steps draw her briefly over, moving as though on their own, paw raised in some half-hearted attempt at reaching towards him. She catches herself, though. What would she even say, what would she do? What would it even mean from her, who's done nothing but avoid and criticize, who hated the one he grieves so openly? It would all ring hollow. She turns away.

Pitchstar, at least, she can go to. If he is truly dead then she will have no need to offer solace. Grieving, that she can do. It is an old friend of hers, though she had hoped she wouldn't see it again so soon. She shouldn't be grieving, she thinks, she still holds her anger at him tight, yet she feels a pain nonetheless. Her paws trail a foggy path to where his body lies, and it only confirms what she already knew. No use in pretending.

Starlingheart, Chilledgaze, Smogmaw. Adderjaw barely registers them, staring only at her unmoving brother. She approaches trancelike, brushes a paw against his fur, spiky and rosetted just like her own. Her face twists in what might be grief, rage, or both. She can't be certain. "Rest, brother," her mouth speaks softly, without much conscious input. It is barely more than a murmur, and more gentle than she knew she could manage. "May you find the peace you could not in life."
 
Lichentail looks up with some irritation when Siltpaw and her insufferable littermate come crashing into camp. She lowers her head and gets to her paws, preparing to scold the young molly for leaving without permission -- but she stops dead. Both young cats are splashed with blood, and the words spilling from their mouths cause the black warrior's veins to freeze.

"What?" She gasps as though claws have pierced her lungs. "How can that happen?" She hears rogue, Granitepaw lamenting that the would-be murderer had gotten away before the apprentice could avenge his mentor.

Lichentail's begin to shine, glossy with pale tears. Chilledgaze begins to gather cats -- Starlingheart, especially, who rushes to tend to Pitchstar. She follows, close behind Adderjaw's heels. Pitchstar would leave, she chants in her head. Starlingheart can save him. No cat can take more than one of a cat's lives. Only a monster can do that. Only a monster.

Her paws slow, then halt, as Adderjaw does in front of her. Lichentail's heartbeat is thunderous in her own ears. She can't bear the coppery sting of blood in the air. She can't bear the sight of her littermate, torn to shreds, the ground beneath him stained and dark.

Adderjaw is stoic, even though she hides grief behind her expression, behind her soft prayer to StarClan. Lichentail, though, lowers herself to her belly, unable to suppress a wail as she presses her nose into Pitchstar's torn tabby fur. Chilledgaze, her younger sister, and Smogmaw fade to phantoms in her periphery.

She's seeing Briarstar again. She's feeling orphaned again. "Pitchstar!" Her cry is edged with ragged pain, loneliness and regret. How could she have doubted him? How could she have forgotten the wonderful, bright-eyed tom she'd grown up with despite his rotting husk?

Her body shakes. "Pitchstar, I'm so sorry," she cries, bringing her tail close to her body. She had failed him in the end. When her immediate grief has cleared, Lichentail can rejoice that Pitchstar has reunited with Amber and Briarstar, has become his old self, has found his peace at long last.

But for now, all she can remember is a tiny kit, his amber eyes like twin flames as he pounces on her tail. All she can remember is the pride on his face after Briarstar named him deputy.

All of it is gone. Cold and stiff as his body is growing beneath her face and paws.

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]
 
If you don't like me, that's your problem
The atmosphere around her is kicked up into a chaotic frenzy. There is confusion, shouting, and anguish that permeates the air as Tornadopaw comes to grips with the news falling from Siltpaw's lips. Pitchstar was dead, completely. A thick lump forms within the base of her throat as she watched Chilledgaze lament and slowly recover. Watches Granitepaw's shaken behavior that is so unlike him. It must have been a horrendous sight. Citrine eyes flicker, landing upon her clustered clanmates as she comes to stand beside Smogmaw. What in earth had the rouge done to strip their leader of so many lives so quickly? A shuddering breath leaves her lips as she continues to look around, gaze bouncing from face to face, listening. Silently she agrees with the tabby warrior, there was no way Pitchstar's assailant would remain in their swamp after such a brutal attack. Claws flex and pierce the sodden earth beneath her paws as her attention lands upon Chilledgaze once more. "I want to help. But, we'll...we'll search for the rogue after Pitchstar is retrieved, right?" The laperm questions, breaking her own selective silence after quiet some time. Someone so dangerous should not be allowed to linger close.
When I let it bother me, that's my problem
 
It's familiar. The thunderpath. Keeps losing lives. It's a family tradition that they've started.

And what would Granitepaw have done? He's only an apprentice, pupil to a leader, but a fragile one. He could not have done anything. And it's not his fault. A leader should not need defending.

The clan rallies; interrogation. They want to know his killer. Some of them are more focused on the future than the present. Sharppaw wonders if it was the same, the face that had snapped up the first of his lives before Pitchstar had the chance to adjust. Sharppaw was just barely old enough to remember the whisperings. Who had it out for him? The very world; the stars themselves. Trouble came wherever he went, it followed their family like a black cloud. An oblivious kit creeps forward. They barely seem to notice this is more of a case than beating up the bad guys. Sharppaw only shakes her head.

Sharppaw himself is dead-eyed, straight stare. There's prickling at the nape of his neck. The quiet seems to stretch, uncomfortably so.

And he's gone. Chilledgaze seems to follow. The ice exterior is gone, and they screech spit and grime. Grief shouldn't make you stupid, she doesn't think. There was no use yelling at corpses. The crying is ugly. Sharppaw looks away. Whispers in the wind. Something, something... all changed, not right. He wasn't ready.

"A rogue?" Quietly, he repeats. Was that all it took to reduce ShadowClan to nothing? Torn apart from the inside out. Picked off one by one. They kept dropping, and Sharppaw is angry. Why were they so hated, always? Sharppaw does not mourn him. If anything, she mourns herself. Only more would follow.

One by one, the pillars of Briarstar's legacy are knocked down. Someday, they'd finally be knocked down back to the earth.
 

Orange and blue eyes blink in a slow manner at the words blurted out so frantically and breaking the silence of the otherwise peaceful camp. Newleaf had arrived, freeing them of winter's cruelty and she was already making plans for restructing the camp's bramble border when the two siblings arrived and split her thoughts in two. Thunderpath. Pitchstar. Why was he even near that blasted thing to begin with, he of all cats knew its danger and risk-he feared it more than any of them in a way. Then she hears the mention of a rogue and Granitepaw's addition and she moves to swiftly follow after Smogmaw who has already left after the deputy's frantic form as well as Starlinghearts; every other cat making an exit was a blur.
She had never been close to Pitchstar, found the man abhorrent and insane, but there was no denying he had cared for ShadowClan in his own warped way and even had the daring to do what it took to keep them alive no matter the consequences. There was something to be admired in insanity that leaked such refusal to go quietly. Her pale and clean paws carry her to the scene and she is mortified by how violent the earth has been overturned, the red rivulets shed everywhere and the spotted tom's eyes glazed and without their usual wild stare. Horrid.

Chilledgaze is a mess, they have always been a cat easily trampled upon by others and even now their own grief buries them so swiftly. Halfshade mourns, not for Pitchstar but for the fact that ShadowClan was soon to be lead by a spineless cat unable to fight their own battles, who would not punish cats for transgressions, who cared so little for the politics outside their territory it was a wonder they even knew other clans existed. She thinks of how the marsh has become even more of a cage. Starlingheart consoles the deputy and she feels a flare of indignation rise up on her chest at how selfish the cats of authority in this clan are. Her own brother slain and she was forced to offer comfort to the deputy instead of cry on her own. At least they have the decency to get over it quickly once consoled; pathetic. She wrinkles her nose, shouldering forward her voice remains cool but her eyes are fire and ice; burning.

"We can't lose the trail of this rogue, a party should be sent immediately."
Stars forbid they come back and take another cat who would be easier to put down with only one life to their name.
 
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Commotion drew Ravenpaw from the apprentice den, her ear flicking in annoyance. Her brother's name was in the air. What problems had the fool caused now?

There was a panic about the camp, but she did not let it infect her. She was above that. With silent, idle curiosity she drew herself over, listening carefully for the news. Then she caught it. Amidst all the wailing and crying she heard tell of Pitchstar's death.

Suddenly, she went very still.

Around her, her clanmates voices rung out, debating what they should do. Her sister, ever the sensible sort, calmed down the fool their brother had chosen as deputy. The new leader of Shadowclan. He would be the first leader that was not from her family. A fact that should have drawn outrage or disgust from her, but it did not. Ravenpaw wanted to lend her own voice to the discussion, find the words to support Starlingheart or to condemn the senseless wailing of her clanmates, but nothing came. Ravenpaw did not say a word. She did not do much of anything at all. She just stood there.

Paralyzed.
[ PENNED BY EMPYREAN ]