Weary and Heartbroken {Closed}

A ruffled ball of dark stripes lay huddled in a small hole at the base of a tree, scarce bits of moss underneath her. Taking a few breathes, she exhaled and inhaled, angling her ears at every noise. A reminder from her stomach made her remember she hadn't eaten since earlier yesterday, and has since fought a hard battle. She stood up, staggered, and slumped back down. Well, so much for independence, She thought bitterly. Despite being all alone, starving, and weak, she felt lighter than she had in moons.

She was alone, with nobody to worry about but herself. Best of all, there was no Rainstrike. That filthy backstabber. She deserved to rot, but she knew her fath- no, she knew Oakstar, he wouldn't punish her like she deserved. He was stupid. Stupid, arragont, oneminded, loser. He wouldn't exile a cat if they murdered someone in front of him-- no, wait, he would, unless said cat was his biological kin.

Strength surged through her as bitter anger and resentment festered to the surface. A growl slid from her lips, and her eyes narrowed on a blue jay, aimlessly pecking the ground. Slowly, she stalked forward, ignoring her pain as she zeroed in on it. Then, quite suddenly the bird transformed, and it was no longer a bird.

It was Rainstrike.

A feral instinct took over and she lunged with all her might, grappling the bird, clawing and biting. "I'll make you regret breathing, you lowlife snakeheart. I'll destroy you! It's time to die!" With that, Stormpaw tore into the flesh, clawing feathers and anything that dared get in her way. She was a savage fox, and this was her prey. The gray tabby was wounded; and wounded animals are alwags the most dangerous. She had Rainstrike's throat in her mouth now, and with a sickening riiiip, she tore the blue jay's breast off. The bird, who had been screaming a warning and for help the entire time fell limp and eerily silent.

Blood sped from it's wounds, claw marks so deep you could see bone. Feathers were scattered everywhere, and it looked more like a three day old corpse than fresh-kill. Stormpaw did not see a brutally murdered bird. What she saw was far different. Rainstrike was dead. Panting heavily, Stormpaw's legs shook beneath her, blood staining the white of her tabby pelt, dripping down from her muzzle and claws. With a laugh that sounded like a sigh of relief, her legs gave out on her, and a small smile was placed on her maw.

Drip, drip, drip...

In confusion and curiosity Stormpaw stared down at the ground, the tiny pools of water droplets infiltrating the grass. Inside, she'd expected to feel triumphant, she'd vanquished Rainstrike! But she felt nothing. With her legs crumpled underneath her, she lowered her head and murmured.

The full moon had served as an invitation unanswered; after the day's wanderings Summer's thoughts drifted as easily as her own paws, and the offer to find Morningpaw among her Clan - and others - for a "gathering" at the great oaks in the center of their territory slipped away when she settled to rest. She'd slept through the night, blissfully forgetful of the suggestion. When the ginger-cream drifter awoke in the pale light of the day following the full moon, she was well-rested and unconcerned. She went about her usual morning routines. Though waking up was nearly always in a different location, the process was usually about the same: find a safe and distant place to relieve herself, locate water, hunt down some food, and then meander along. Summer had quenched her thirst and was departing in the morning light when she saw the pale outline of the white moon in the radiant blue sky. Morningpaw's offer immediately flooded to the forefront. "Oh," Summer checked, eyes widening and then rolling with exasperation, "feather-brain."

It was only a mild disappointment, but a disappointment nonetheless. Summer wondered if she might solve two problems at once; she needed something to break her fast, and she wanted to see if there was a chance, beyond likelihood, that any of the Clans remained. Morningpaw had said it was only one night, but perhaps the night included the morning as well? She knew where the great trees were - there wasn't any harm in checking! And so the ginger-pointed cream loner set off at a relaxed pace, though she could feel the tightness in her stomach of hunger. She searched idly along the way, but with roadside and Clan scent all around her she decided that her destination would be the best choice.

When Summer arrived on the scene, however, she became quickly uncertain if that had actually been the right decision. She heard the snarl before she scented the blood, pain, and misery; she hesitated upon first hearing it, but it wasn't directed at her, and curiosity (and a little bit of voyeurism) drove her forward through the ring of foliage and down the slope. Her sky blue gaze landed on an apparently injured gray tabby she-cat who was presently tearing at a bird. Its pained cries were cut hauntingly short. Summer kept her head low, eyes glittering with crystal focus as she stared at the bird's attacker. Something wasn't right; the she-cat laughed, but it was empty, cold, and sad. It made Summer's spine prickle - not just with uneasiness, but with concern. The tabby collapsed and murmured softly, and what she rumbled seemed almost like a death rattle.

This wasn't a cat who was just angry. This wasn't a cat who was just violent. This was a cat who was.... unstable. Perhaps she had a valid reason, but Summer would need to tread carefully. She could scent ThunderClan, as well as the previous night's mess of mingling scent trails. The flame-pointed drifter cleared her throat softly. "Pardon me, darling." Summer took another step forward, her posture plainly relaxed - suspiciously relaxed. In truth, she was prepared to flip a switch and explode at any moment if this she-cat turned her anguish on Summer, but she hoped for the best, and her stance needed to show it. "I couldn't help but come towards the bird's cries. There seems to be a lot of pain in the clearing, is that right, darling?" Her eyes flickered over the gray she-cat's wounds and the massacred bird.

Stormpaw hadn't heard Summer's approach, and so, of course, upon hearing a voice her eyes widened in disbelief. "D-ace...?" Her voice, quivering and almost broken up, echoed like a broken record. Struggling to get upright, she visibly deflated upon spying the oh-so different pelt than the one she'd hoped to see. Disappointing. Croaking out a pained noise, she pointedly flopped down facing away from the newcomer. "Leave me to die alone. I'd do better off dead."

This was it. While hardly injured on the outside, just a bit matted and scratched, really, she was irreparably damaged internally. A broken heart could not be cured. Young as she may be, Stormpaw was more than willing to accept the blackness of death that clung to the clearing like a magnet. "Why should you care about me? I'm nothing more than a hornet in your side. Just go away, I'm fine."

Irritable due to sadness, it was clear she was not fine, and pushing Summer away was a defensive mechanism to avoid getting hurt. Stormpaw was unstable, and she was heartbroken, and she was sick, just... Not in the traditional sense. Robinloft and Cedarheart had both tried to help her, and it had just hurt them more when she pushed them away. She'd hurt so many cats, because she hurt. Stormpaw had never meant to shove them away, oh moons, she hadn't really meant to leave. It wasn't in her plan. It wasn't in what she thought her life would be.

Oh, daffodils, nothing about her life was what she thought it would be. ThunderClan was nothing more than a joke, traitors and liars at the very root of it. What was the point of following or inforcing the code just to break it? It was stupid, all of it! The code was flawed and that was that. The code had killed Dacedream. The code was not meant for Stormpaw. She wouldn't -- she couldn't follow anything that would kill innocent cats. Especially not her best friend. Maybe that made her a bad cat, maybe that made her evil. So what? At least she was doing what she did for Dacedream, but, also for herself. ThunderClan wasn't courageous and honourable, it just wasn't. She had to leave; to escape. It was the only way to heal, the only way to be free, the only was to find Dacedream again. There was no looking back.

The she-cat was startled and clearly not at all comforted or pleased by Summer's presence, for she turned pointedly away and threw herself to the ground with a dramatic groan. Summer continued to stand poised and calm as she regarded the miserable creature. The wounded cat spoke with misery, and the drifter's ears flicked in acknowledgement of how telling those words were. Yes, this cat did have a valid reason to be upset, it seemed, though Summer wasn't certain what it must be yet. Something had happened to this unstable she-cat, and she intended to find out what. Her ginger tail gently waved behind her. "You don't look like a hornet to me, darling," she pointed out, "so I suspect you're not fine, either, but perhaps 'fine' looks different for you than it does for me." She approached a few more steps, gazing uncertainly at the maimed bird again and then to the disgruntled Clan cat's back where she lay defeated on the ground.