Ember | COMPLETE | Warrior Cats Fan-Fiction Novel

S E V E N

When Dockfall and Daisyblossom were found dead by a startled Lavendermoon, Emberstorm felt almost nothing.
     
Almost.
     
Daisyblossom laid in a puddle of dried blood, eyes open and foggy. Her jaw was slightly parted in a final cry of shock or rage or fear or whatever she had felt in her dying moments. The torbie's side was sliced open.
     
Next to her, Dockfall was splayed out. He looked more peaceful; his eyes were closed, jaw clamped shut. There was a horrible gash carved into his neck.
     
Emberstorm tried to maintain that stony coldness. They were pebble-brains. They probably squabled over a leaf or something. No matter what the she-cat thought, her stomach still seemed to writhe. She swallowed and tried to focus on something else.
     
Maybe Ravensplash's vision of death and doom? Oooh, how about how Bramblefrost and Slatefeather are gone -- probably dead, that is. Or perhaps the fact that my Clan has literally fallen apart? I have some appealing options here.
     
Emberstorm snorted aloud, but then coughed awkwardly when some Clanmates shot her looks of repulsion.
     
She backed away, ducking her head and clenching her jaw. Her mind began to cave in, a spiral of horror and anger and grief that consumed her. She was going to drown in it. They all hate me. They hate each other. I hate them.
     
Windripple purred from beside her, flicking his ghostly tail across her face. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, "You're next." The tom's whiskers twitched in amusement before a gust of wind rendered him to dust and swept him away.
     
Windripple was gone. Emberstorm resisted the urge to shriek and run; run far, far away.
     
But she knew that her father would haunt her, no matter where he went. He was dead and a figment of her decaying mind.
     
He was always with her.
     
I have to get out, Emberstorm hissed inwardly. I have to. I'll die if I stay. Another thought crept in, slow and eerie; a predator in the shadows of her mind. Isn't that what you want? An end? Emberstorm took a step back. The words slipped down her spine like slowly melting ice, trickling all the way to her tail tip. Isn't that what I want? I could stay. Surely I'm a target. I'm utterly useless and talentless. The she-cat glanced around, the faint whisper of leaves and murmur of fearful cats dancing upon the chilly mountain breeze.
     
I need to leave.
     
Slipping out of camp was simple; no one would notice Emberstorm's absence or care to look, except maybe Ravensplash. All of her friends and family were either dead or in another group.
     
She raced through the sparse pines, wounds throbbing, pelting through the sharp, crisp air across jagged, rocky terrain before bursting into the forest. The warrior didn't stop running until she reached a thin stream that winded through the trees like an icy serpent.
     
Emberstorm bent down and lapped up some of the cold water. It slithered over her tongue and down her throat, a refreshing wave of fuel.
     
The she-cat glanced around, then rolled in the pine needles to mask her scent. Emberstorm couldn't risk being tracked and followed.
     
After all, she was betraying the Code and abandoning her Clan. She recalled Ebonystar saying that she was "here to help." The black warrior had also caught rumors of the smoky MoonClan leader being fair, just, and kind. Her warriors said that she truly cared.
     
Usually Emberstorm would behold such information with distrust; it would seem forced. However, the warriors seemed honest and truly happy. She could see it in their bright eyes. Hopefully she'll take me in.
     
The warrior once more took off at a steady, but swift, pace. Pines whipped by, wind whistled, rocks tumbled. Somewhere up above, a bird of prey cried out.
     
As she made her way through the forest, Emberstorm stopped in her tracks. A familiar scent, mixed with blood, tickled her nose.
      
The she-cat glanced around, heart beginning to pound. Snagged on a bush a few pika-lengths away was black fur.
      
Emberstorm rushed forward, sniffing it vehemently. Trepidation crawled down her spine, seizing her heart, lungs, and ribcage. She couldn't breath as it sent an icy wave throughout her body.
     
It smelled of Ravensplash. My sister. The young warrior collapsed, trembling with desolate grief. Her heart collapsed in on itself, and her stomach was trying to break through her skin. The world spiraled overhead, the sky and pines twisting and growing blurry.
      
Windripple murmured, "What a shame."
      
The black cat laid there for what seemed like moons, time languidly creeping by.
     
Finally, she stood up and continued, despite the overwhelming melancholic sadness that consumed every fiber of Emberstorm's being.
     
Emberstorm skidded down a steep, rocky slope. The pebbles suddenly slipped from beneath her paws, and she lurched forward with a snarl of surprise. Her face scraped across a rough rock face, and she tumbled down with a few larger rocks, one slamming into her shoulder. Emberstorm felt a fat tree root slide under her, and with a hiss of determination, she twisted and sank in her claws, desperately latching on. After a few more rocks came hurtling past, the young cat scrambled upright and carefully padded down the slope.