A Spotty Commotion 4[OPEN]

Spotfur slowly padded into camp, eyes glazed over with grief. His son, Mudpaw, had drowned, and Nightshade, his daughter, had been brutally killed by a fox. He couldn't save either. Both had happened on the same patrol. In just a few moments, half of his children had died- not including the adopted ones(who were Chillpaw, Torrentpaw, and Tawnypaw). The dark silver she-cat and the brown tom lay side by side in camp after he and Smokewish had put them down. "Riverclan!" He called, voice cracking. "Nightshade and Mudpaw are dead!" His wail cut through the peaceful air.

"Nightshade? My apprentice?" Ravenflight froze in place as Spotfur called out. How could Nightshade be dead? She could remember training the she-cat like it was yesterday! It seemed like only sunrises ago she had become a warrior. And Mudpaw hadn't even had his warrior ceremony yet! She gazed in horror at the lifeless bodies that lay on the ground. "Wh- what happened?" Nightshade's body bore signs of attack, and it was clear that no cat had made those marks. Mudpaw's pelt was waterlogged and matted, and she could only guess what had happened to him.

Coming to her senses, she hurried over to where Spotfur had laid them. "Nightshade!" she cried softly, fighting back tears. She sat beside her former apprentice, gently grooming her bloody fur. "May StarClan light your path," she mewed, her voice dropping to a whisper. She stopped cleaning Nightshade's fur and lowered her head, tears streaming from her eyes.

Smokewish had been dragging her daughter through RiverClan territory. What had started out as a harmless hunt had turned into a catastrophe in no time minus five. She was forced to watch her daughter die, only to turn around and see that her son was dead as well. She had lost so much already. What did StarClan want from her? She fell over a few times on the way to camp, purely from grief and her constant shaking. When she finally made it to camp and laid her children down to rest, she couldn't take it. She collapsed next to Nightshade, crying her heart out for her kits that had been taken too soon. Was she being punished? She didn't know. It hurt to think. For now, all she did was lay there and let her salty tears mingle with the blood on her daughter's pelt. She didn't want to have to look at her son, the one who never got to see his warrior ceremony. Mudpaw was only an apprentice... But he was a RiverClan apprentice. How did he even drown? Smokewish didn't know. Spotfur had been trying to save him, like she had been trying to save her daughter. They had both failed miserably. Did that make her a terrible mother? Obviously. Maybe, if she still had both eyes, she could have protected the most precious things in the world. But, or course, StarClan had to take them. Why should she be allowed anything? The only things she had left were Chillpaw, Mistpaw and Spotfur. Everyone else she loved were gone. And so she lay there, sobbing, refusing to leave behind the bodies of those she loved.

A pair of bright yellow eyes scanned over the two dead bodies in horror. Birchspark had been sitting outside of the warriors den when he had first scented the reek of blood, and had heard Spotfur's call from the entrance of camp. He watched as bothe Spotfur and Smokewish were dragging the dead bodies of their kits into the entrance, resting them in the center. Nightshade was one of them.  She was a Riverclan warrior, and had only a few days ago had a warrior ceremony, and there she was right in the center of camp, limp and lifeless. Her pelt was covered in scratches and wounds, and it looked like they had been made by a fox or badger. Mudpaw, Nightshades brother and a Riverclan apprentice, had also died. He could see what had happened, the brown apprentice's coat was soaked with water. Even though Mudpaw was a Riverclan cat, he had an accident when he was a kit and he fell in the river. He'd been afraid of the river ever since. Birchspark remembered when Spotfur had came into camp with Mudpaw in his jaws as a kit. Mudpaw was only an apprentice too, he hadn't even made it to his warrior ceremony! Two more lives that would never return to the forest, now to be with Starclan forever. Though he had never gotten to know them well, Birchspark still felt grief. He sat where he was, his head hanging low, looking at his paws. He wondered what the mourning cats around the bodies were feeling.

(OOC: oof)

Goldeneye wrinkled her nose at the scent of death and blood that began to flood the camp. Goldeneye's eyes rested upon the two cats that laid in the middle of camp, Spotfur wet with water and blood. Giving a sigh the she-cat turned on her paws and dipped into the medicine cat den, grasping mint and lavender from her den before returning outside to softly rest them on the bodies to hide the scent of death. She supposed a prayer to Starclan was due to send their souls to hunt among their ancestors, and perhaps they would find solace in her prayer.

"May Starclan help these two young souls travel to their new hunting grounds. May Mudpaw and Nightshade find loved ones and feast on juicy fish, basking on warm stones and scratching their pelts on rough tree bark. Starclan will treat them the way they deserve, with many moons of peace and with the love a mother. These two cats must be remembered for how brave and loyal they were while they lived, and known for the connections they have here while we all live to see them when our time comes." Goldeneye meowed, her head dipped while she spoke. Raising her head she pressed her nose to their foreheads and stood.

Heronflight suddenly heard the news that Mudpaw and Nightshade died. Why did it have to be RiverClan? he thought as he walked to the two bodies. "May StarClan light your path," he said to the two dead cats.

Troutpaw had seen the bedraggled cats carrying two broken animals in their maw's. It was only after they were close enough that he could smell that they were Riverclan cats whose bodies were being carried. He didn't immediately follow, but when he heard the cries in camp gave himself permission to go see the sight more closely.

Once in camp he saw all of the other cats mourning the loss of the two dead. Mudpaw he had known as a fellow apprentice, but Nightshade he hadn't known as much about. Troutpaw didn't want to bring attention to himself at the site of mourning, because while the other cats had come forward out of grief, his interest was solely personal. Troutpaw had been very hungry for power since he was born, but he had recognized after his first hunt his desire for death. And ever since his battle alone with another an apprentice form another clan, he had developed a curiosity into the death of other cats. He sought to examine the scene of Mudpaw and Nightshade now to feed his own interests.

Which brought him to the present moment, trying to stay behind the others as they cried and blessed the dead; while he instead simply examined the two dead cats without any feelings for their lives at all.