Wilted Leaves (Cont.)

Part 1

It seemed to take forever to reach the camp again after the horrendous accident. Neither Gingerheart nor Thrushstripe said a single word to each other as they walked back, Thrushstripe being the only one to carry Mapleface back to her home for the last time. He didn't even notify anyone as he gently placed her body in the middle of the clearing where they were normally placed for the vigil, but before he could let anyone see her, there was no way that he was going to let then just stare at her head. No one would want to stay by her side knowing that there was just that gaping hole from where the rock had penetrated her skull. But there wasn't much to do about it without bringing more attention to it. Instead, he simply sat down next to her, his body closest to her face, and tried to draw attention away.

Gingerheart didn't even feel anything as she walked into the camp. As she looked around, she could barely recognize that she was back in her home. All she could think about was how she had found her own daughter-- lying there unmoving with that horrific wound. She felt numb. She was losing everything. First she had to watch Sagestar lose not one but two lives, then all of Shadowclan was forced out of their homes. When they had gotten back, there was the death of Cedarfur, and now this... Not to mention the countless lives that were lost in the great battle at Fourtrees with the Deos. How could Starclan accept her now? She was failing at her duties. She couldn't protect the closest things to her; how was she supposed to protect the rest of Shadowclan? Could she anymore? It took her a long time before she realized that she just looked dazed, but the feeling wouldn't go away. Without even saying one final goodbye to her kin, she struggled to walk over to the furthest edge of the clearing and just lie down. She wanted to be alone, and this was the best she could get right now. The warrior's den was no place for her... Not now, and probably not ever again.

Redpaw watched the rain pour outside of the apprentices' den, annoyed that he couldn't go hunting because of it. He just stayed inside where it was a little drier. With a sigh, he kneaded his paws on the ground, the energy in them unable to be released. Stupid rain. But he was getting very bored, and figured he could at least poke his head out to see what everyone was doing.

He wished he hadn't.

As soon as he looked out, he saw Mapleface lying on the ground, blood coating the fur on her face. Thrushstripe, her brother and Redpaw's mentor, was covering whatever wound had caused such amount of blood flow. Gingerheart was nowhere to be seen at first. Did she know what had happened? How did this even happen? Forgetting the rain, Redpaw padded slowly outside, eyes wide. He just stood there in the pouring rain, staring at his two clanmates; one mourning over the other's death. He wanted to ask what happened. He wanted to do something. But he couldn't move nor speak, for this was the first time in his life he had witnessed the death of a clanmate. Sure, his mother and father were dead...But they died when he and Maplepaw were very young, so he didn't see it and didn't think of it much. But he could see Mapleface right there, in the middle of camp. Dead.
The tom felt his paws twitch and start to move as he stumbled subconsciously over. He sat down near his mentor, shutting his eyes and praying silently to their ancestors. He was barely aware of his actions. He barely knew Mapleface. He just sat there and mourned for her with the others because she was a clanmate nonetheless, and was to be respected. The death of a Shadowclan cat was a sad thing to Redpaw. He hoped it didn't happen often.