Gone Rogue | A One-Shot Collection

A Queen's Grief | WWHQ Official One-Shot Contest #2

A Queen's Grief
WWHQ Official One-Shot Contest #2

The aftermath of battle was never pretty. Sightless eyes stared up hatefully at enemies long gone, their owners' once glossy fur matted with dust and blood. The bramble and thistle barriers had been strewn across the camp, trampled into nothingness just like their fallen comrades. A metallic scent filled the air, so strong it made one choke on their own breath.

    And the silence. The silence was deafening.

    She sat on the outskirts of the camp, eyes wide as they took in the wreckage. Her heart continued to hammer in her chest even now that the battle was over, and her shallow breathing did little to help. It was all so sudden, so soon.

    The day, lit by a bright newleaf sun, started with promise. Being the first warm, sunlit day since the harsh leaf-bare, the Clan took it as a sign of new life and better times ahead. Warriors and apprentices alike took off for the forest in hopes of filling the painfully small freshkill pile; elders bathed in the sun, brushing moss off their pelts as the kits played moss ball around them; Ravenstar, their leader, watched the Clan from High Branch, pelt unusually dark in the bright light.

    Then, a battle call, and the camp suddenly flooded with large, dark shapes. Shrieks and screeches rose up as FeatherClan engaged the intruders, bent on protecting their camp and Clan even at the cost of their lives.

    The events of the battle blurred in her mind. As pelts the colour of rock and mud headed for the nursery, she threw herself at them in an attempt to keep them from the kits who cowered behind thin bramble walls. She slashed and hacked and threw blow after blow at the attackers, but the tide never seemed to ebb.

    She recalled only one specific moment: the look of pure horror in her own kit's eyes as a giant advanced on him. Caught in a tousle with a battle-scarred she-cat, she cried out for help, hoping against hope that someone would hear her above the din of battle. The tom crept closer to the nursery, claws and fangs at the ready as the kits shrank back and squealed in terror.

    With all her strength, she pushed her opponent off and ran, moving as fast as her legs could carry her. She was still too far away when the tom raised his paw to strike, the shriek she let off other-worldly as he went for the blow.

    A flash of black and Nightblaze - fierce, fearless Nightblaze - jumped past her to take the giant tom head on. After that, the battle became foggy once more.

    She wrapped her speckled tail more tightly around the cream kit at her paws, who did not even give a squeak of protest. Waspkit's eyes were dull as they surveyed the camp and she wondered what the little tom saw in the wreckage.

    "Speckleblossom." She glanced up, meeting the amber eyes of her mate. He pressed against her, offering her protection from the cruelty of the battle-torn camp. The queen pressed her head into his chest for only a moment, breathing in the sweet scent of pines that lingered in his pelt.

    "You need to see Stormwatcher," she mewed quietly, seeing the bleeding gash in his side.

    "As do you," he replied, looking at the wounds on her shoulders and flank pointedly. She thought about arguing, but nodded in agreement soon after. Fighting over such a small thing would not help FeatherClan.

    "Go, Lightwhisker," the queen said, seeing Snowtail, the Clan's deputy, rounding up warriors to help repair the camp. "They need you."

    The cream tabby hesitated, as if knowing she did not truly want him to leave her side. She averted her eyes to avoid his searching gaze; as much as she wanted to feel his warmth and presence, there would be time for that later. Right now, their Clan needed them.

    He touched his nose to her cheek and padded off, leaving her to observe the Clan's efforts. Her breathing was less shallow now, her heart no longer pattering in her chest, and she found she could think more clearly as the adrenaline receded. In its wake, it left grief as heavy as the stones that separated FeatherClan and MoonClan territory.

    Her moon old kit had fallen asleep at her paws and she picked him up gently, placing him on what few scraps of moss she managed to find in the damaged nursery. Her gaze softened as she watched his chest rise and fall with breaths that, moments before, could have ceased. Saddened by the thought, she walked into the midst of the camp.

    The bodies of the dead were already laid out, lined up neatly in a perfect row. At the end lay Swiftwhisker, a well-respected senior warrior of the Clan. Beside her, the much younger Skunktail wore the same mischievous grin he had in life, though his eyes no longer sparkled.

    The grey and white pelt of Sheepfang caught her off-guard and she felt a lump rise into her throat. She pressed her nose into the pelt of her friend, trying to block out the swirl of memories that filled her mind from their time as apprentices and young warriors. To think she could not stand him as a kit... She shook her head, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

    The last two bodies belonged to Gooseflight and Nightblaze. Speckleblossom began to shake as she stared down at the older queen and her mate, both killed by a similar blow to the stomach. Gooseflight, always steady and calm in life, appeared the same in death; Nightblaze, full of a fervour for life, appeared the opposite.

    "Thank you," the speckled she-cat whispered as she pressed her nose to Nightblaze's dull fur. "You died saving my kit and I will never forget that."

    As the other members of FeatherClan approached the bodies to pay their respects, the queen melted back into the crowd. All around her, her Clanmates shook with anger and sorrow and cries of grief filled the air.

    Unable to watch as Nettleflower, Sheepfang's mate, and their three kits, Frostpaw, Birchpaw and Lilypaw, began to sob, Speckleblossom turned away. Eyes glossing over, she almost passed over the image of a small, lone kit sitting on the fringes of the Clan. His head was bowed, eyes trained on the ground, tail wrapped neatly around his little pebble-sized paws.

    Glancing back at Nightblaze and Gooseflight, the weight in her chest grew, as if trying to crush her with despair. So many lives pointlessly taken before their time... And now, an innocent, orphaned kit stood at the edge of Clan life, lost.

    "Volekit?" she said quietly, lowering herself to the ground. The tom remained still, unmoving. Swallowing back her grief, Speckleblossom crawled closer.

    "Little one," she whispered gently and the tiny brown tom began to shake. From his mouth came a stream of senseless whimpers and soft cries, an eerie song of loss.

    Her motherly instinct took over and she wrapped her body around the little tom, sharing her warmth and life until the shaking lessened and, finally, subsided. The whimpers and cries faded out, replaced by the even, short breathing of a kit asleep.

    Speckleblossom sighed, knowing sleep would not take the pain of loss away; at least the kit would get some rest before another day of sorrow. Watching him, she wondered if he would be more like his father, calm and collected, or like his mother, always searching for excitement. Though he would never truly know them, she knew their spirits would live within him.

    The queen tucked the tom in with her own kit, the moon old kits huddling together unconsciously. She purred, struck by how similar they seemed. A new thought filled her as she paused, observing their dreaming state, and suddenly the sorrow lifted.

    She joined the Clan in their vigil with the warriors, settling down beside Nightblaze and pressing her nose into her cheek softly. The image of Waspkit and Volekit continued to fill Speckleblossom's mind and she twitched her whiskers, filled with the warmth of hope.

    "He will make you proud," she whispered into the fallen queen's ear. "They will both make us proud. And I will be there to make sure Volekit knows just how much he is loved, even though you have left us. He will be loved, my friend."

    A warm breeze blew through the newleaf night as she closed her eyes; a sign, perhaps, of Nightblaze's presence, or simply a wind like any other.

A/N: A short piece I decided to write for WarriorsWeeklyHQ's one-shot contest. I took a rather round-about approach to the theme (the death of a loved one), but I think it paid off in the end. I wanted to focus mainly on character development and emotion so let me know how I did in those departments! It's a bitter-sweet ending, but sometimes those are the best kind (: