Is This the End? [Closed]

Rocks and debris skidded into the river as Weaselpaw skirted the edge. He had found himself away from camp more and more often. The fire had done nothing but worsen the darkening could inside of his mind, oblivious innocence was quickly being eroded away. It troubled him quite deeply, but the young tabby would never say anything. Being cheerful and happy was him, not this plaguing cloud of dark thoughts. Only Shellwater knew about what had happened with Windclan. While the wounds no longer stung and were long healed over, claws had hooked themselves into his head. Weaselpaw frowned. He stared down into the rushing waters as if desperately searching for some answers, some secrets that only the currents held. The apprentice was disappointed. His head shook sadly. Everything about the moment felt wrong. For once, there was nothing he was excited about. It seemed as if all of the joy had been drained away and replaced with... nothing. He dug his claws into the bank and tore his eyes from the water to look up into Starclan. The stars had no answers either.

For once, frustration grew and overwhelmed the tom. He took off along the side of the river. The sound of sticks and other matter that splashed into the river was almost soothing. Energy and adrenaline tore through his muscles. The feeling would have been exhilarating if it weren't for the pit of ice in his stomach that blocked any feeling. Weaselpaw pushed himself harder. His bulky tabby frame heaved with the unusual effort. He was made for swimming, not sprinting. Exhaustion began to take over after a short while and he skidded to a halt. A rest sounded nice for once after his body had been drained from its usual energy. He breathed heavily sucking in air and trying to relax. Then, the ground was gone. A shocked yowl broke from his throat as he tumbled into the waters. Before he could manage to turn over and swim towards the bank, something struck the side of his head, and the whole world went black.