StarClan save my soul (closed for Acrylic, Sub, Icestorm, Bloom, Renette)

Ashstar lay sleepless in the leaders' den, listening to the wind on the empty moors. It seemed like only days ago, Sablestar had been resting in this den. The poor she-cat had had only two or three moons as leader before she had been killed by her own Clanmate. And the gray she-cat had only been deputy for a little while. She wasn't ready for this responsibility, and the Clan seemed to know it, too.... Fighting amongst themselves, questioning her word, treating her like a regular warrior. But she didn't want to be harsh. She loved her Clanmates too much to be harsh. But she had to be strong... Tossing and turning, the battered leader managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep.

Sleep wasn't restful. The she-cat found herself on the Great Rock again in Sablestar's place. The leader was sick at camp. Suddenly, Morningstar appeared in the midst of them, followed by dark ghosts below them in the crowd. The deputy didn't wait to hurl herself at the muscly, smirking tom, yowling a battle cry. All around her, cats fought, drawing blood. There wasn't a single star in the sky. Morningstar had her pinned, was clawing her muzzle over and over- Then she was limping through Twolegplace, searching for any scrap of carrion that was presumably edible, starving and wounded apprentices and warriors on her mind, responsibility weighing down on her tired shoulders- Then she was sitting on a dirty fence with her son, and he was accusing her of disloyalty to Icestorm and to WindClan- Then she watched in horror as Morningstar and Frostfall slaughtered Thrushstar and Gorsefeather without a second thought. She yowled in pain, and then Saltpelt and Breezeheart were there, her Clanmates, attacking her, and then Thrushstar had killed them both. She lay there, wounded by her fellow WindClan warrior, looking at the bodies of Dark Forest-loyal and StarClan-loyal cats alike who had just hours ago been living, breathing, filled with the same hopes and dreams and fears- Then she was on top of the Tallrock again, making one of the hardest choices in her entire life: exiling one of her best friends, Kestrelstorm. Then, suddenly, Morningstar was clawing at her face, her Clanmates lying dead around her, and Breezeheart and Saltpelt stood there, muzzles red with blood, and Sablestar watched with disappointment in her eyes, and Smokepelt was accusing her, and Frozenflame and Icestorm lay among the dead, and Birchkit was in the talons of a hawk flying away, and her parents lay unbreathing in their own blood, and Skunkpaw fell from the gorge, and Pinedusk was killed by a hawk, and as Morningstar held her down, Kestrelstorm's teeth sank into her throat-

The world was a blur of blood and pain, voices mingling together, scared or angry or bitter or desperate or accusing, hissing or screaming or growling, but all directed towards her, and she couldn't save them...!

"No! Thrushpelt!"
"Help, Ashkit! Help me!"
"Mom! Help!"
"No. Nonono! Pinedusk! Please! Someone!"
"Help me Ashwing!"
"I guess it depends on where your loyalties lie.... You and Frozenflame."
"In the end, you will only get your clanmates killed. They will die because of you."
"You know nothing, Ashwing!"
"StarClan cowards, we should have killed you where you stood all those moons ago. The weak deputy, the mad leader. At least I kept my clan safe, no one was harmed until you interfered."
"You don't deserve a place among starclan! You don't deserve a place here!"
"Ashwing wouldn't know a loyal warrior if StarClan told her themselves. May hardships reign on you all- and especially you, Ashwing. You will never be half the leader Sablestar was, and not a fraction Falconstar was."

Ashstar sheathed and unsheathed her claws convulsively, trying to escape the voices and the pain. The wound on her side reopened and someone was screaming a long, drawn-out scream that didn't end for breath, and the leader couldn't tell if it was her, and she knew that she would die from the pain if she couldn't escape, and she couldn't see through the blood and tears gushing from her face, and voices echoed in her ears, calling for her, condemning her, and she couldn't answer. They were all right. Her tail wrapped around her paws, Ashstar got ready to die.

Oddly enough, the night had been pretty... normal. Smokepelt's wounds from the battle hadn't been as severe as other cat's, but he was still sore. Images of his clan mates and other cats being slaughtered by the DarkForest constantly ran through his head and even though he thought that training with his new apprentice would take his mind off of everything, the dreadful recent events still haunted him. Even his deputy duties weren't enough to distract him from the horrible images of the battle. Lying in his nest with his eyes closed, Smokepelt listened to the world around the peaceful sleeping area. The moon was high and gave just enough light, crickets sang their midnight songs, a gentle breeze ruffled his fur, one could even say the night was perfect.

Finally at the wonderful point in time where he was starting to doze off into the darkness of slumber, an earsplitting yowl made the grey tom's head shoot up. The scream could've been from any cat, but he knew well enough that it was his mother's cry. Not caring if he woke anyone up by stepping on their tails, he rushed tiredly to the leader's den, poking his head in. "Ashstar, are you alright?" Smokepelt meowed alarmed, making his way to the she-cat. A sour blood scent was all over her fur, and not really thinking of what he should do next, the tom ran out of the den and into the medicine cat den. " Leafheart! Ashstar needs you!" Starting to panic, he raced back to hi mother's side, starting to lick the blood from her side. She couldn't die, not after all she'd been through, she had made it this far, why would StarClan take a life now?

Cinderpaw had been helping Leafheart sort herbs when Smokepelt came in and then out. She dropped the bundle of daisy leaves that she was about to stash and opened her eyes wide in panic. She looked up at her mentor.
"Oh no!" She exclaimed, wondering what had happened. Smokepelt had looked troubled, as if he was panicking. Was Ashstar hurt? Or sick? Or dead? She wondered what to do. Cinderpaw had never been in this situation before. She tried to compose herself and just listen to what Leafheart told her to do.

Images of the battle flashed through Emberleaf's old, rusty brain. He often had nightmares, where he stood in the center of a chaotic bloodshed around him. In the dreams, his friends and family were the ones being killed while he was frozen in the center, held in place by an unseen force. It was just like the battle at Fourtrees against the Dark Forest. These nightmares were why he usually stopped sleeping every few nights, and tonight was one of those nights.

The ginger tom lay on the edge of camp, where it was the coldest and darkest. He was starting to refuse to sleep with the elders, for it made him feel old and useless. The ground was hard underneath him, because he had no nest to rest upon, and he rolled onto his back. Emberleaf's thick, mangled red fur swayed softly in a gentle breeze that made him shiver as it swept past. His gray eyes, faded from age, were wide open, and stared at the shimmering stars above him. That was when the scream echoed in the silence; the scream of his young leader, Ashwing.

The retired Medicine Cat jumped to his feet and bolted to her den, running faster than he should for his old age. He came just after Smokepelt and Cinderpaw. "Ashstar," he gasped, his voice coming out as a scratchy rasp. The tom started hacking, walking over to his leader as he did so. He sat next to her, pressing close, and wrapped his long, fluffy tail around her. Seeing no injuries, he figured it was just a bad dream, and he knew that the best way to deal with one was comfort.

Ashstar opened her eyes with a gasp. The pain hadn't faded, but the voices were gone. The sharp scent if blood had filled the leaders' den. It took the she-cat a little while to regain her bearings. Emberleaf and Smokepelt were on either side of her, supporting her tired, pain-racked body. Suddenly she remembered the dream and tears filled her stinging eyes. "I'm so... I'm so sorry," she choked out, voice cracking. The sting of Morningstar, Smokepelt, Saltpelt, Breezeheart and Kestrelstorm's words were still fresh, reminding her why her Clanmates doubted her. When it came down to it, she couldn't save them. She was no Falconstar, no Sablestar. She was a failure as a wasrrior, as a mother, as a friend, as a deputy, as a leader.

Leafheart bolted into Ashstar's den, various herbs and other material in her mouth as soon as she had been notified of her leaders state. "Ashstar! Ashstar listen to me, I need to know exactly what happened, okay? We can fix this, ju-just tell me where it hurts." Leafheart stuttered frantically, standing besides her leader. 'Twisted stomach? Greencough?' Many thoughts flooded her head as she tried desperatly to assess Ashstar's symptoms.

Leafheart glanced around and took a deep breath. "I need you to know that you are an amazing leader..." She said quietly, trailing off with a crack in her voice.

Lightfoot appeared at the entryway, unable to follow the mixing scents any longer. He'd heard the scream and the sound of cats hurrying and scurrying about to reach their leader, but he'd been unable to keep up with them. Though he knew the layout of the camp by heart, he was still unsteady and fearful of going the wrong way or colliding with someone. Lightfoot had simply walked very slowly to his leader's den, which was a place that he hardly ever dared to tread for sheer respect. He hung back and said nothing. An old blind elder wouldn't be much use here, but hopefully he could provide some moral support if she needed it. Ashstar was one of his dearest friends, after all. To hear her suffering was incredibly painful for him.

Sorry? Sorry for what? Panicking, confused, and scared, Smokepelt couldn't understand why she'd apologize. Maybe she didn't think she was a good enough leader? But Ashstar was a wonderful leader, so why would she belittle herself like that? Realizing that panicking wouldn't help the situation, he gave an internal sigh, and as much as he wanted to yell at the medicine cats to help her, he stayed quiet. Looking around, he spotted Lightfoot, and was glad to see the older tom, whom he knew was an old and dear friend to his mother. He scooted over just enough for the medicine cats to be able to reach his mother and crouched down so he was closer to her. The grey tom loved her and Icestorm, and didn't know what he'd do without them. They'd taught him so much, and look at him now.

Nudging his muzzle against her cheek, he gave a small purr. "I don't know what you're apologizing for, but there's no need to," he meowed softly. Whether she was doubting herself as being leader or something else, he didn't care. This cat; his own mother had made it through the battle of the DarkForest, took charge when Sablestar was killed, and most importantly, she cared for her clan. "You're a wonderful leader, friend, mother, and more than any cat could ask for. Don't disown yourself, no matter what'd going on, you got that?" Smokepelt still spoke in his usual quiet tone, but there was a hint of seriousness within his tone.

In his eyes, Ashstar was one of the best leaders that the five clans had ever had, and no matter what, he'd stay at his mother's side.