Warriors: Blue Moon Book #3: Eye of the Storm

Chapter 4: The Tribe

CHAPTER 4

Redflower

The body had grown cold with the approach of night. When the tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat looked at it, she no longer saw her father, but rather a shadow of his former self. He was with StarClan now, hunting amongst the stars with his warrior ancestors. He'd be with Sparrowpelt now, his old denmate. Redflower wondered whether Breezepaw had been there to welcome him. Her sister had been a kittypet when she'd left this world, but that didn't mean she wouldn't be welcomed into StarClan's hunting grounds upon death. Breezepaw had always had the heart of a warrior, Redflower was sure she was with StarClan now.

She never should've left SkyClan. She might still be here if she hadn't.

Swallowing, the young warrior pressed her nose into Sharpclaw's thick ginger pelt. He no longer bore that familiar scent, that reassuring smell that whisked the dappled warrior back to when she was a kit and made her feel safe. It had been overpowered by the strong smelling herbs that her mother and Echosong had entwined into his pelt. They said it took away the scent of death, but it didn't. It didn't at all.

It was a cold, musty scent; death. It had lingered, refusing to leave now that it had laid claim to the life of Sharpclaw. Redflower had wanted to yowl to Cherrytail that they were trying to cover it up, trying to smother the fact that Sharpclaw was dead. Her father, Cherrytail's mate, SkyClan's deputy, was dead. He wasn't going to just magically awaken, he was dead. It was no use tiptoing over it, pretending it had never happened. It had happened; Sharpclaw was dead.

Cloudfoot, who'd also been trapped under the rock-pile, was currently still being treated by Frecklewish and Brackenpaw. From what Redflower had heard, however, he was on the path to recovery.

The tortoiseshell-and-white warrior's gaze washed over the dark ginger form that was Sharpclaw's lifeless body. Cloudfoot had been lucky, so so lucky. I'd give anything for just one more moment with him, just one more day. She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, realising that they'd never get to go on that hunt that Sharpclaw had promised he'd take her on.

"There's always later, or tomorrow maybe?"

Her father's words rang in her ears. Later, tomorrow. There is no tomorrow, not for Sharpclaw. A sob escaped her jaws, shaking her whole body. Breathing shakily, the young warrior buried her head in her Father's fur once more.

She still couldn't quite get over the fact that this had happened. This was real. This was no dream, not a nightmare even, her Father was dead. Dead.

Why couldn't it have been me that was buried under that rock-pile?

She wasn't sure how long she lay there, beside her father's body sitting vigil. It was just before moonhigh when she felt a light touch to her ear and a soft murmur, "Redflower, it's time."

It was Brightwing. Sitting up, Redflower faked a smile for her friend, before asking, "Time for what?"

The ginger-and-white warrior gave her a sympathetic smile, "It's moonhigh. Leafstar's going to name the new deputy."

What? Already?

Blinking, the dappled tortoiseshell-and-white warrior glanced over at her mother, Cherrytail, who had been laying against Sharpclaw's other side, her muzzle pressed into his fur. She hadn't moved once since the vigil had begun. She was flanked by Robinsong and Flintclaw, Redflower's older siblings.

Whitefern had yet to pay her respects to her father. In fact, the dappled warrior hadn't seen her sister since earlier, when she'd shown the rescue patrol where the rock-pile had collapsed, trapping Cloudfoot and her father. She'd run off shortly.