The Future is Bleak and Foggy When You're Alone {closed}

A sigh.

The sandy warrior settled himself outside the warriors den, a meager vole at his paws. He didn't really feel like eating, and the constant glances towards the medicine den hinted to his true thoughts. Softbreeze had taken to silence since Olivestar and Morningdove had left, and so far she was keeping true to that vow. Not so much as a peep had left her maw, and Downtuft couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her leave her nest, let alone her den.

It had seemed WindClan had lost their fight. Softbreeze had always been the first to speak out, her voice the loudest and most passionate. Even she seemed defeated, having lost the spark that made her, well, her. And yet, nobody was speaking out. Their leader had been chased out, their deputy mauled, and their medicine cat silenced. Elders were dead and cats were left as orphans. And yet, nobody spoke up. Not an echo,not a whisper.

Nothing.

Downtuft clenched his teeth, claws scoring marks in the sand. He could still see Goldengale's body hitting the sand, bleeding out, and when he looked closely, he could still see the tints of orange that lingered in the sand from her life blood. He still saw Dappleshine, helpless and innocent, begging for mercy as Theron blinded her, while the rest of WindClan could do nothing but protest against it. He still remembered the deafening yowls of Softbreeze as Dappleshine passed away.

He'd never heard her scream so loud before.

Not even at the Gathering where she received news of Sagelight's death had she yowled so mournfully and loud. Not even when Barleytuft had died. Not even when she'd awoken to find out Finchstar had still died. Remembering it still filled him with the same hollow dread, and he'd recalled even some of the Asylum cats looking faintly disturbed by his beloved sister's pained caterwauling. He'd never heard something so heart shattering before.

He faintly recognized the soft pelt of Fogpaw, and he blinked softly at her. There were no words he could speak to her; for how could he? She'd lost four parents now, and the pain must've been unbearable. He could never imagine. Losing his mentor, parents, and siblings had been hard. He couldn't imagine having to lose his parents twice. Her pain must be immeasurable, he thought sadly.

"Vole?" the usually grumpy warrior offered softly, green eyes sad as he pushed the brown creature gently towards her.

Tragedy was in the blood of all clan cats, why else would these horrid things be happening to them? Every cat had been subjected to some form of loss or pain over the last few moons. Those who formerly held power were shamefully turned away, forced by the paws of another group to withdraw. Withdraw was a gentler way to describe the barbaric use of deadly force thrown upon her own clanmates. They revolted against the stars but the moors have yet again yielded to other forces.