send out the alarms, i'm all alone {closed}

The pine forest wrapped in the silence of midnight is a beautifully haunting place.  Nothing much makes sound, except maybe the whisper of a slight cool breeze whistling through the evergreen branches, or the muffled squeaks and snuffles of small creatures sleeping in their burrows.  Within the last half-moon, the temperatures had begun to plummet closer and closer to the frosts of leaf-bare, signalling to the tiny lives within the woods to start stocking up for the freezing times ahead.  That included the cats; ShadowClan had begun their preparations for the cold season, raking in the extra prey and patching drafty den walls...and thus, most of the clan was exhausted.  Slowed breathing and soft snores resonated through the forest clearing, from the tiny vocalizations of sleeping kits, to the amusingly monster-like sounds of the elders.  There was one cat though who made no sound at all.  Even his normal sounds of breathing seemed oddly hushed, as the still body of a long-furred warrior in a nest near the den entrance gazed up solemnly at the starry night sky.

His pupils large and rounded, Ryeheart felt the rhythmic thumping of his heart through the forepaw pressed against his chest, in a strange way listening to it through the sensation of feeling.  He focused on it; ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.....  He contemplated it.  Stars swam in the dark depths of his eyes as he thought about it, as if in that moment there was nothing else he could possibly ponder over.  Your heart...beats until you die.  When your heart stops your life stops...it's dead.  You're dead.  Why is it then...that my heart still beats...even though I'm dead?

I'm dead.  My heart stopped along with Willowpetal's, yet I'm still here.  I shoved the stake through my own chest when I dropped our kits at the border, yet I was still able to walk back home.  It's a mystery to me, an enigma...it's not right.  Why am I still here?  Am I still here?  Maybe...maybe this is just an illusion.  My punishment in the Dark Forest, forced to believe that I've gone on living while everyone I've ever loved has gone on without me.  If not...why would StarClan be so cruel as to keep me here?  My time is up, I'm done.  There's nothing left for me.  I've screwed up, pissed away the life that was given to me.  I'm a failure, a murderer, a helpless spectator...a deserter.  All my chances are gone, my lives spent...so why am I still here?

Ryeheart lowered his head and shifted his muscular body slightly, finally making a sound as his fur brushed against the dry moss of his nest.  He rested his head on his paws and closed his eyes, trying to sleep, but his mind wasn't cooperating.  This wonder, this ever burning desire to leave, flee the pain that haunted this world, acted like a light in front of his face, not letting him rest until it was turned off.  The thing was...he didn't know how to shut it off.  After a while of restless solitude, the young tom-cat grunted slightly and lifted his body up and out of his bed, usually so comfortable and safe, now felt as if it was filled with nettles and thorns.  His paws pattered lightly against the earth as he slipped out of the body-heated bramble den and out into the breezy evening, chilly air filling his lungs in another reminder that he was still conscious.  He didn't bother to groom through his messy fur, or sift through the fresh-kill pile for any late night snack that possibly lingered...he didn't do anything.  He just stood there, in the middle of camp, looking up at the twinkling stars.  Watching, waiting.  Hoping in vain, dreading the truth.  

I'm all alone.

Willowheart was shivering, curled up in a tight ball in her nest. Her white chest heaved as she struggled to take in the air, and her white paws twitched as if they were running from something, somewhere. Her heart thudded as she tossed and turned, whimpering pitifully.

Her amber eyes opened with great difficulty as if a heavy weight held them shut. The first thing she saw was darkness, and a sharp, painful scent hit her nose. Willowheart blinked, trying to clear her eyes and mind. Where was she? Suddenly, a wailing cry made her mewl and cower in fear. She lifted her head with effort -why was it so hard?- and looked around. Two figures were looming over her. One, a tortoiseshell, and the other, a black and white tom.Who are you? ...Father? Her head grew heavy again and she rested her chin on her paws, but she jumped back as something sticky touched her tiny paws. What was that? Blood? Her head spun and suddenly she was standing on the Thunderpath, looking down at a patch halfway across. Her claws gripped the ground as if she was going to fall off the very earth, and she could see her whiskers quivering uncontrollably. Why... what did that place have to do with her? She was a Shadowclan apprentice. The only things that should concern her are frogs and fleas, not some Starclan-forsaken place in the center of a bloodstained, two-leg-built path. She turned to walk away, but all she could see beyond the marsh was darkness.

It grew larger.

Willowheart turned to run, but her paws were stuck to the ground. She tried to cry for help, but no sound came out of her mouth. The blackness came closer. It was about to swallow her.


Willowheart's eyes snapped open and she jumped out of her nest, her claws digging into the soft dirt floor of the warrior's den. She looked around wildly, trying to clear her mind. She took a deep breath and strode outside to get her bearings, her breath streaming visibly behind her as she stepped into the cold night. Her ears twitched as a dull sound reached them and Willowheart instantly snapped out of her panic, dropping to the ground and trusting her dark fur to hide her from anything that might be watching.
Her bright eyes narrowed as she saw a figure standing, shrouded in darkness.
She approached it silently, but her eyes widened in realization a moment later.

"Ryeheart."

She stood up and walked towards him, confident now. "What are you doing out here?" She whispered. (Willowheart had learned quickly that it was always better to whisper when one was out at night, in the cold. It just made sense.)
"It's far too cold to be out alone,"

Though Ryeheart's ears twitched slightly as the sound of the she-cat's words floated through the crisp night air, he didn't turn to greet his friend, nor did he take his eyes off of the stars for one heartbeat.  Reflected in his midnight pupils, he watched the bright lights of his ancestors twinkle and shine, forever hopeful, eternally present.  He knew....up there, one of those stars looked down at him, her beautiful blue eyes filled with the love and laughter he had cherished so dearly.  Up there, shone his true love...his dearly beloved...

"Willow."

StarClan, even saying the name hurt.  Even if he was only addressing a clanmate who happened to share the she-cat's name, the imprint of his love's face burned in his mind's eye as he continued to examine the night above him.  She didn't deserve to die...if she had never met me she would still be alive, happy.  In her own clan, with her own kits...even if they weren't mine.  Screwing his eyes tightly shut, the muscular tom-cat's shoulders narrowed as a wave on tension ran through his body, his paws trembling with the effort of holding back a mournful cry of despair.  How did my life come to this?!

"It...it's late.  Go back to your nest...I'll be fine."

Liar...murderer...deserter...COWARD! TRAITOR!  CODEBREAKER!  You don't deserve to still be in this clan, you don't deserve to still be alive!  Let the night take me...it's only the right thing to do.

"No."

Willowheart padded closer, her footsteps light and silent as if she was floating in the cool nighttime breeze instead of walking on solid ground. The delicate she-cat sat down beside Ryeheart, placing one feather-light paw on his own and turning her face upwards to face Silverpelt, her yellow eyes filled with wonder and grief for what could have been. If her mother hadn't died. If Ashpaw was still alive. Her black and white fur stood up for a moment before settling back down and she shivered as if a spirit had run its muzzle through her fur.

"Ryeheart."
Her voice, usually steady and melodic, trembled ever so slightly; like the first songbird of spring uncertainly spreading its wings, she wasn't sure what her next actions would determine.
"Tell me."
It wasn't an order. It wasn't a request.

She leaned into him slightly, her whiskers barely brushing the fur on his shoulder.
Willowheart waited.

Ryeheart's spine rippled with a violent shiver at the touch of Willowheart's paw to his own, the warmth of her fur so close to his freezing pelt bringing the stark contrast of tempature to his attention.  It was pretty cold out here...  His formerly lively eyes shaded by the dullness of grief, the lonely tom gazed down down at his friend's black-and-white paw upon his own ginger and white one for a long silent moment, contemplating her words.  "Tell me."  How can I?  What's done is done...there's no getting back what I've lost.  All I have left is my clan, my father's love and pride.  My home, the camp I used to sleep in with my brother.  The place I trained and played with Darkpaw...they're all gone.  I only have this place, this lonely place.  If StarClan denies to reunite us now, or forever, I at least want to bring glory and happiness to the home I love.  I can't do that...if anyone knew what I've done.  A great lump choking his throat, the young warrior lowly rasped to the she-cat, the weight and warmth of her body leaning against his only making it harder to keep from giving up the fight and crying out his troubles.  "I...I...can't tell you...."  Raising his bowed head, he finally met her gaze for the first time.  Her amber eyes glowed with compassionate concern that seemed to burn right through Ryeheart's defenses, and before he had time to control himself his eyes were glittering with tears.  And, in a rush of emotion, he sobbed out two little words that held more meaning than he could ever explain to her.

"I..I'm sorry."

Willowheart looked up at the once-towering tom, a mere husk of his former self. "I...I...can't tell you...."

The gentle she-cat moved closer, pressing herself against Ryeheart as if contact could somehow hide the pain. Hide the truth. But the truth couldn't be hidden forever. It was like a fierce wind, pushing at your very being until it blew right through you, and before you knew it the words came spilling out of you.
"Ryeheart..." She whispered his name once more, meeting his once bright green eyes with her own.
Then Ryeheart did something Willowheart had never anticipated.
He began to cry.

"I..I'm sorry."

For a moment, Willowheart did nothing. She just looked, stared at the shell of a warrior. At the broken pieces of a masterpiece.
"It's okay."
What more could she say?
And before she knew it, tears were flooding down her face. I'm sorry.
As if those two words would fix everything.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Ryeheart felt the intense pressure in his chest begin to release as he let the tears flood down his face, the ones that lingered too long turning to crystalline droplets that clung to his fluffy cheeks and the tips of his whiskers.  His body shivered not just from the cold, but from tension as anxious tremors wracked his body from the inside out.  Sniffing, he watched numbly as Willowheart began to cry as well, but in the moment he was too caught up in his own emotions to contemplate why, or think of something funny to say to cheer her up, like he usually would have done.  Everything that he thought was solid within the last few moons had quickly shattered before his very eyes, and he had no idea how to put the pieces back together.  He remained silent.  Pulling closer to his concerned friend, he wrapped his fluffy tail around her body as he enveloped her in an embrace, the combined warmth of their bodies comforting.  Ryeheart felt numb; tears continued to spill from his eyes as he pressed against the black and white she-cat, wishing with all his heart that he could go back to the innocent days when he was happy, when he didn't know the cruel truth of this world, when he still had something to live for.

Willowheart leaned in closer as Ryeheart wrapped his tail around her, their breath, visible and warm, clouded around the two. Tears still spilled from her eyes, but she was no longer crying in earnest. If only there was something she could do, something that could somehow fix it all... She shuddered and pressed herself against the fluffy tom, turning her face and crying into his fur. What was the point of it all? Life gave you barrier after barrier to overcome; but what was the purpose?

The two sat together for an impossible amount of time. Minutes. Hours. Days. Moons, even. Finally, Willowheart had cried herself into silence. Slowly, slowly, she pulled away, her amber eyes clear and bright. Her whiskers trembled, and her cheeks were stained silver, a frozen reminder of the tears she had shed.
For a moment she was still, but her small white paws shuffled, and she got to her feet. Suddenly, Willowheart felt very old.
"Ryeheart, let's go." She mewed softly, nudging him. "Come to bed. It's much too cold to be out here any longer."