Fur Stained as Red as his Name (Death Topic)

The rain was pouring down, as clouds filled the sky with a murky gray, blocking out any trace of moonlight. Leaffall had been coming in hard, and prey was beginning to become scarce. But that hadn't been what caused the red warrior to awaken with a harsh jolt. Redfeather bolted upright, eyes wide. He could hear the rain pattering on the roof of the warrior's den, steady and repetitive like a heartbeat. It soothed him a little, the constant pattern, but it couldn't distract him from his night terrors. Hawkpaw's face. Kestrelstorm's bloodstained fur. His Clanmates. WindClan. Birchpaw. He knew this shouldn't matter. It had all been when he was an apprentice. He should have been proud to show his skill. And it was only two cats. He knew others had killed dozens. Cats died every day. What did two killed at his paws mean, really? Nothing, he supposed. Not on their own. But he'd created ripples, no matter whether it was the only option or not. He'd seen Hawkpaw and WindClan's faces at the sight of him carrying Kestrelstorm's body. Redfeather sighed. He was thinking too much, feeling too much, wasn't he?

Picking up his paws, he slipped out of the den, into the rain. Why did he bother? He didn't really know. His fur became soaking within seconds, his bright amber eyes slicing through the darkness. Not sure where his feet would carry him, he began to walk. Our of camp, to the very outskirts of ShadowClan's territory, near the Carrionplace, but not close enough that the stench was too stong. Even now, Redfeather still had high standards. He tried through the thickening mud getting increasingly difficult to walk though. And all of a sudden, the pads on his feet couldn't touch the ground, and he found himself falling through the air. He let out a screech as he lost his footing in the mud, slipping, sliding, falling, before an ear-shattering crack as his head collided with a jagged rock. A splitting pain rippled down his spine, and his vision become clouded with the blood as red as his name, seeping though his fur. A broken skull, impaled through the chest. Redfeather's once strong, lean and handsome body couldn't look so different as it did now, hanging limply, soaked in the downpour.

And then, the stars.