Frozen Heart

Reedheart sat at the edge of camp. He'd been like that, in that same position, for the last couple of days since the battle against the Deomilites. He hadn't even gotten up to eat or train Mistpaw, and he looked scrawny underneath his glossy fur. They'd won. They had driven out the murderers from their homeland, with little casualties of their own. So why didn't he feel victorious? Why didn't he feel happy? He had looked forward to the end since the whole ordeal started, but now...

That rogue. He couldn't even say his last words properly, because of the blood that had welled up in his throat. Reedheart had killed him out of anger. Out of malice. And now... he couldn't feel joyful, or pride in his victory, or... or...

"You're no better than us now."

No. He just felt numb and empty. Reedheart continued to stare forward, green eyes wide, forward... at nothing.