Someone Somewhere Somehow [closed]

The day was dreary, but warm. The sky was overcast, but no rain would fall. A small blur of color moved through the vast dullness, a spark of orange contrasting the muted scene. Trudging through the tall grasses that lined either side of the Thunderpath, Clementine pushed on, ears focused on the treeline while his senses remained alert for the rumbling of monsters. The path was one Clementine travelled often, and even though the scent of the Thunderpath was unpleasant, it no longer caused his head to ache.

From the treeline, though, Clementine heard movement. His eyes narrowed, clearly unhappy to deal with whatever clan cat he was about to encounter. He figured he should leave the tall grass, for whatever cat was approaching could probably already see him, when he couldn't even see them. Heavily sighting, Clementine left the grass, exposing himself to the eyes of the nearby cat. He didn't bother to say anything, he wasn't in the mood to deal with a clan cat. If he remembered, this was Thunderclan. The last Thunderclanner he'd met wasn't hostile, Thistlemask, if he remembered correctly. It wasn't safe to assume the behavior of any clan cat, but it put him at ease, a little bit.

Starlingflare was patrolling the border when a pelt of orange caught his attention. Based on where they were and the fact that he knew there were no Thunderclanners near by he could safely assume that whoever this was, was a rogue. The silver gray warrior moved himself out of the trees, stalking towards the intruder. "What are you doing on Thunderclan land?" The tom growled out.

Clementine's fur stood on end when he was met with a growl. "Trying to pass through your starclan-forsaken territory, that's what." The tone in his voice matched that of the approaching cat. They soon came into view, a tall figure who didn't seem to take kindly to harmless guests. He supposed that Thistlemask was one of few Thunderclanners who were kind to outsiders - or maybe he was just very unlucky.

Intuition told him that this wouldn't end without a fight, and if he was being honest, he didn't mind the thought. He knew enough about herbs to heal whatever wounds he ended up with. Besides, if it went bad for him, there was always the opportunity to run - he was aware that speed wasn't a Thunderclanner's forte. His claws flexed impatiently into the dirt below, his annoyance with the audacity of clan cats building with each thought that entered his mind. Not only did they think they owned territory, they want to chase off cats who were only passing through. It was either pass through the territory's edge, or suffer an ugly fate to the unforgiving Thunderpath. One was more preferable than the other, but not to the clans, apparently. "I'm just passing through, so leave me be." He watched the silver tom with narrowed eyes, remaining unfaltering as a monster roared on the path behind him.

"If you wanted to just pass through then you should have picked somewhere else to do it. You filthy rogues are not welcome on Thunderclan territory." Starlingflare growled, eyes flicking to the road behind the other tom. In the distance he saw an approaching monster. Just one push.. that's all it would take. Then other rogues could see the example made of this one.

The gray tom rushed forward, putting all of his weight into the shove, pushing the other tom back onto the Thunderpath claws digging in to do damage before he jumped back to act like he was trying to avoid getting hit by the other. In truth he was hoping the other tom didn't see the fast approaching monster.

"I don't really have too many options." He hissed, hackles raising. The audacity of clan cats never ceased to irritate him. No matter how many times he'd try to explain it, they could only ever see it their own way. The ginger tom opened his mouth to snarl another remark, but before there was time to dodge, Starlingflare lunged, pushing into him with the force of his weight. The force sent him stumbling backwards, his claws scraping against the pavement to keep himself from skidding backwards any further. It was too late when he heard the rumbling of a monster.

The last thing his wide eyes met was the reflection of the sky on the bottom edge of the monster's exterior. It was beautiful, really.

An impact. The screech of tires on pavement. A bright flash of white. Then nothing. The absence of all senses, for just a moment. Then, his olive eyes opened once more. Blood, lots of it. It filled his senses, it became everything that he was. Movement didn't feel real, if it weren't for the fact that he could see his own paws as he picked himself up from the pavement, he'd think he was floating. There was no pain, no panic. A strange, sereneness had completely overwhelmed him.

The fact that there was a body - if it could even be called that, in its state - was right in front of him didn't register. The fact that it was his own. The passing winds didn't blow his fur as he stared, only beginning to realize that the tufts of ginger fur sticking out of the mangled mass of red belonged to him after moments had passed. That what he was looking at was him. That he was dead.

A series of emotions hit him, almost as harshly as the monster had. There was no one true feeling he could put his paw on. He really did die at the claws of a clan cat after all. He forced his gaze away from the mass on the pavement to look in the direction of Thunderclan territory. The cat had already left. His gaze flickered back toward the mangled figure.

Time passed, although Clementine didn't know how much. Despite his efforts, he couldn't get himself to leave the Thunderpath. A melancholic attachment and an absence of will kept him there. An attachment to a body that he knew he couldn't call his own anymore.  The passing of monsters had no effect on his form, they simply passed on, and he remained where he sat, unmoving.

Then, a voice, from behind him. One that had long been lost to his farthest memories. Even if he had tried to recall it, he wouldn't have been able to. At first, he wasn't able to place it, where he recognized it from, who it was. All at once, memories came flooding back. When he turned, he met the gaze of his mother. She beckoned him with memories of his kithood, the times when he didn't know fear or worry. She beckoned him with the warmth of her comfort, with the scent of familiarity. Still, he couldn't move his paws. So, she sat there, beside him on the pavement, unmoving as monsters roared past, following the same path the one that had struck him did. She stayed with him until he was ready. Until he was able to let go.