He Was a Great Warrior... [OPEN]

Twistedtail was constantly hoping it was just a nightmare. She half carried, half dragged Sprucethorn's body into the camp as tears spilled from her eyes. The scene kept on playing over and over in her head, the tom raking his claws across her mate's throat, his eyes glazing over as his jerky movements lessened. Her yelling at the strange rogue that intruded into her territory and then killed Sprucethorn. Her dragging his dead-weight body all the way here, at the rim of the camp she lived in all her life.

Twistedtail gave a muffled yelp as she tripped over a rock and almost tumbled all the way into the ditch that made up the camp. It seemed so calm and peaceful from up there, as if what she just experienced never happened. Picking her way across to the center, she lied down Sprucethorn's body in the center gingerly. Looking down, she saw how splayed his body was, how his fur was so ruffled and covered in dusty dirt already. He would have never looked like that when he was alive, he was too proud for that, she thought before she could stop herself.

And that's when the real tears came.

Her knees buckling, she let out a terrible wail. Shoving her nose into his fur, she sobbed until she felt his fur get soaked. As she ran out of tears quickly, she took in shuddering gasps. As her tear streaked face started to hurt from all the crying, she looked around.

OOC: I know cats don't cry in real life, but Warriors takes place in a slightly different universe anyways, so I'll allow it for myself.

Heatherpaw had sat in the clearing after having handled the elders ticks. She blinked seeing her mother coming over and carrying something. As she blinked her eyes she realized it was her father or who she thought was her father and she stood abruptly coming over.

Ashstar bolted up from where she sat in her den at the sound of Twistedtail's tears. She dreaded to think what had happened, but she ran out of her den, skidding to a halt on the ground underneath her feet as her eyes comprehended what they saw. A dreadful understanding filled her as she stood there, numbing shock flooding through her from ears to tail-tip. No... Oh, no... Oh, dear StarClan.... The leader's muscles went limp and she dropped into a sitting position, mouth still open in disbelief. Seeing her warrior there dead before her, she closed it, green eyes filling to the brim with tears. Her mind slowly accepted the horrifying reality. Not another one... I'm such a horrible leader... Another one of her warriors was dead, and she hadn't been there. What kind of leader just let her warriors die?! She should have been there... She should have been... She should have.... The leader's shoulders shook with inaudible sobs as a tear dripped down her cheek, not caring who saw. Sprucethorn, a loyal WindClan warrior, was gone.

'Oh no.' Spiderfur had stiffened immediately at the scent of blood, despite being unable to see what the source was. Her heart was in her throat as she turned to face the body of her former apprentice, Sprucethorn. For a moment she couldn't move, her wide, soft eyes staring blankly at his dirtied form. No thoughts clawed her brain. All that was in there was a drop of regret and self-hatred. This was her fault, somehow. She was an ineffectual mentor; she knew it from the start! First with Lionfur, and now Sprucethorn. None of her apprentices seemed to survive long after their apprenticeship to her.

Her little paws carried her over to the broken body with agonizing slowness. The emptiness was replaced with a lump in her throat as her gaze flickered to Twistedtail. She barely even knew the she-cat, but her heart lead her to sit beside the warrior. It was her fault that her mate was dead. It was her fault that Windclan had one less warrior. "I'm s-sorry," came her shuddering whisper.