Softpaw's Silence

Chapter 7

As the screams of the kits silenced, so did the cries of the camp. Softpaw licked the heads of the kits once more, before getting up and nervously padding to the entrance of the thick, thorny brambles.

It had started to rain on Softpaw's way back as she had run with Blackfeather and Puddlespirit, and now it felt as if StarClan was trying to clean the blood soaking the grass that covered the camp.

The sight was horrific.

Everywhere there were cats lying on the floor. Strangers and friends. Their eyes glazed over. Lifeless.

And then everything froze, the cold eyes of death blurring as her gaze was focused to one body.

She wanted to scream, but her throat allowed not a word to pass through. She wanted to cry but tears stubbornly refused to fall, her mouth failing to produce a single sob that begged to pour out.

There, in front of her miserable, wide, broken eyes, lay the corpse of an all too familiar blue tabby.

Rainpetal was dead.

In her agonized haze of grief, she barely felt it as she was hurled to the ground, a raging sandy tabby above her.

"You useless coward! Where have you been?!" her brother raged. A sleek, blue-grey she-cat came to her rescue.

"Little one, don't," she whispered in plea, Birchpaw glancing at her. With a huff of annoyance, he let her go, glaring at her through narrow eyes.

"These cats are dead and you couldn't be bothered to fight? Too scared, like the pathetic little mouse you caught last week!" he growled.

Softpaw stared at him, emotionless and numb, barely able to feel her own legs.

Mother... Mother... Mother...

"I told her to," a cold voice said from behind. "Though I will tell her no more!" he snarled, showing the siblings a tuft from Mouseflame's pelt, covered in her blood. "My greatest work is dead thanks to your filthy bloodline!"

Birchpaw whirled around to retaliate, but before he could Rattlestar leapt into his view.

"Silence!" he hissed. "Violence will solve nothing, physical or through the cruelty of words!"

The Clan fell into hush, intimidated by their wounded yet fiercely powerful leader, but the silence was soon broken before Rattlestar could even open his mouth.

"Well well. Aren't you the petty little hypocrite?"

Softpaw's gaze shot up in terror to look up at the scar covered tom who had just broken into the clearing.

He was a ginger tabby tom with skinny shoulders and a seemingly malnourished frame. His legs were littered with old battle wounds and his eyes were as cold as ice, as if they had lost their light long ago.

Smirking, the ginger tom gazed down on the two siblings.

"Hello my dear kits. My name is Duskstorm, and I am your father."