A Star Forgotten - Warriors Fanfiction

Chapter 18

"Let me see them!" Ashleaf exploded through the disheveled lichen guarding Snowsong's medicine den. Her voice cracked with anguish. "Where are they?!"

Mousepaw, trembling, took a tentative step towards her older sister. "A-a-ashstar," Her mewl quivered, "I-I'm sorry. S-snows-song said that i-it's b-b-best n-not to s-see them r-right now. S-she said w-we're in shock, a-and seeing our mother and b-b-brother like that w-won't help a-anything."

Ashleaf took in with a churning stomach that Mousepaw's perpetual stammer had regressed into a state where she could hardly articulate a word. It was evident that Mousepaw had been deeply disturbed, which could mean nothing less than what Ashleaf feared most.

"Move out the way," she hissed, brushing past petite Mousepaw.

The small white apprentice whimpered, taking an additional few shaky steps backward in a vain attempt to intercept Ashleaf. "S-snowsong said-"

"I don't care what Snowsong has to say about this. I'm the leader here. I make my own choices. I want to see Pineneedle and Sunpaw. They're my family, not hers." And with that, she bounded into the clearing where Snowsong and the two battered cats lay.

The medicine cat rose to her feet the moment she entered. "Ashstar," Snowsong padded up to her friend to comfort her, but Ashleaf pulled away, "I'm so sorry."

Ashleaf took a moment to analyze the damage done. Sunpaw was past mortally wounded. Her golden brother, eyes always alight with humor, now sat in a crumpled heap, unmoving, fur tinged with blood so potently vile, bile threatened to rise in her throat. His fur, previously the hue of dandelions in newleaf, was now unrecognizable. Gashes crisscrossed his whole figure. His right ear had been lacerated entirely. Countless bite marks left impressions where the fangs of the coyote had pierced him. A chunk of flesh was missing from Sunpaw's shoulder. Clearly, the coyote had one last taste of Clan cat before its death.

It appears I shall be sitting vigil for him tonight, She gulped down the bile once more.

But it was when she caught sight of her mother when she could contain herself no more.

Pineneedle's eyes were glazed over. Her chest rose and fell in shallow heaves, and her tail twitched spastically. Blood seeped and gurgled from her jaws. Her mother was suffering terribly.

Ashleaf turned around and vomited.

It wasn't grief that reduced her down to her paws: it was guilt. Her brother and mother were both going to die without knowing that their daughter, sister, and leader would never remember them.

They don't know that I don't know.

Her mother - who raised her from birth - would never get to spend one last moment with her eldest kit. Ashleaf's heart wrenched. How could she do this to a cat like Pineneedle? If only she could remember the times they spent. If only she could make a connection with Pineneedle and Sunpaw.

Instead, she felt cold.

Ashleaf had tried to obscure the emptiness she'd felt when Wisetail died. Every cat seemed to be mourning his loss. But Ashleaf had felt nothing. Nothing at all. She'd never known these cats. She'd see them often, of course, being the leader of StormClan, but no true bond had been created between any of them. The only cats she had ever grown close to were Snowsong and possibly Mudfoot. The remainder of her relationships were hollow.

And as she gazed down at the devastated body of her brother and her mother's twitching form, she rose to her quivering paws. She indeed felt emotions. Guilt towards herself at letting her Clan down again and allowing these innocent cats to die. Disgust at those abhorrent coyotes who committed the foul act tearing apart her family. Horror at the damage that they had done. And coldness.

Though she pitied the loss of two honorable cats, she felt no love. She felt no connection.

"Your mother arrived with just enough time to distract the coyotes for the apprentices to flee," Snowsong approached Ashleaf from behind. "Oakpaw and Mousepaw escaped without a scratch," She bowed her head gravely, "Your brother, naturally, refused to wake."

Ashleaf had recently come to the realization that Sunpaw was quite sluggish. He would always pass over the apprentice duties to some other cat. He'd sleep until after sunhigh and devour half the fresh-kill pile. When he did, however, put some effort into anything, he'd be certain to let anycat who'd lend an ear know about how displeased he was.

This was Sunpaw's fatal flaw, and evidently, it had proven to be fatal.

He would never have been a proper warrior anyway. The notion pained her, but it couldn't be denied.

"I need some time alone," rasped Ashleaf, unable to be in the presence of the disheveled bodies any longer.

She then brushed past Snowsong, padded through the den, out into camp, and then returned to her den. Ashleaf had lost most of her sleep that night fleeing from savage coyotes. She didn't want to think about burying Pineneedle and Sunpaw yet.

But much to her distaste, another image returned to her mind, one that she would much appreciate forgetting.

The feral eyes of Lilyblossom stared her down. The blood of the coyote dripped from her pearly teeth. Mudfoot stood beside her, renting the carcass of the dog into ribbons. They were haunted. Possessed. Savages. Ripping apart a dog which was already dead, out of unmitigated cold blood.

Ashleaf trembled in her nest, trying to force the memory away. No, no, no, they're my friends. Mudfoot had always seemed so tranquil to Ashleaf. Lilyblossom, despite her distant nature, appeared fragile and delicate.

Is this how all warriors behave in the heat of battle? Are we all supposed to transformed into merciless beats?

The coyote had surrendered. Still, its life was taken. Then it was mocked and torn apart farther.

Will I ever be able to look Mudfoot and Lilyblossom in the eyes again and see the companions I know? She wondered, Or will I always see the savages that mauled apart a dog?

She couldn't sleep. Not with these recurring memories that continuously repeat in her mind.

Until near sunhigh, Ashleaf stirred. The sunlight blazed through the cracks in the Highrock. It was hot and muggy. Her head spun from the tiring events of the dawn. She could not rest for a heartbeat but lacked the strength to rise.

Her attention was caught when muffled voices rose from behind her den. Two cats were conversing outside the Highrock in hushed mews.

"I can't even fathom what that she-cat is going through. She's lost so much since she's been leader." It was one of the elders, Mistyfur.

"Her poor family's melting away like the ice in newleaf," replied another, which Ashleaf recognized to be Scarpelt. "It won't be long before I'm gone as well."

"Soon enough, we're all going to be gone, Scarpelt. StormClan ain't got much hope left. Soon as Ashstar loses her last life, you can bet a mouse's tail it's the end of us. MeadowClan's got us beat," Mistyfur lamented.

"Aw, come on, you can't talk like that," protested Scarpelt. "We've got a healthy litter of kits in the nursery!"

"One litter of kits," Mistyfur growled. "One litter of kits, two apprentices, and four warriors. Don't you see how pathetic this is? We've got two moons left, at most. We're all dropping like flies. They're going to kill us all. Rosestar will make certain of that."