In Mourning (Open)

Why did it have to be him? His mate had already been taken from him, as well as his two kits, not to mention his mother and sisters. But now more death was brought before him. Stoneheart, his best friend since they were apprentices, had tragically passed away. And just as horribly, his one remaining daughter had been brutally killed by a badger! He had thought after Heatersahde's death that he had seen more than enough death for a lifetime. But as loved one's fell to their graves around him, he wondered how much one cat could take. There were still a few loved ones alive. Stormpaw and Silverpaw, his apprentices, were doing great. Laurelsong was as strong of a warrior as ever, and Silentstrike was still there for him. That should be enough. And he was grateful for them. But he had lost one of his best friends, and Fawnpaw had been so young and his daughter. Nectarleap let out a quiet sob from the back of the warrior's den, where he had taken to hiding during times of grief. He didn't want anybody to be bothered by his sadness. Though it did effect the whole clan. A great hunter and a promising apprentices had died. That couldn't just effect him, the whole clan must feel the loss. But he felt alone. He doubted anyone else felt this as heavily as he did. Or at least wouldn't voice it. Getting rid of his grief wasn't even on his mind, he just wanted to get his feelings out. If he could, he would do anything to see his loved ones again. Except die. The clan needed someone with his level of experience, and he still had reason to live. But was one dream to much to ask for?

Stormpaw had been pacing around the camp. What with the threat of battle against RiverClan looming over WindClan, he hadn't gotten much rest. He was much more alert than usual, the slightest sounds making him jump. Particularly on patrols, he was extremely cautious. It was twice now that a predator had attacked him on patrol, on one occasion killing a fellow apprentice. He could almost yowl aloud at it all! He kept his ears pricked and his gaze fixed just ahead of him as he walked across the camp, forwards then backwards, until he heard something. Was it coming from the warrior den? He wasn't supposed to go in there, but it sounded almost like a sob. He paused his pacing for a moment, then made up his mind and padded to the fresh kill pile. He picked up the biggest rabbit he could find and dragged it over to the warriors den, stopping just outside the entrance to peer inside. Sure enough, it was Nectarleap. Stormpaw felt so bad for his mentor, who had suffered enough already. "Nectarleap? May I come in?" he asked, before dragging the prey with him and setting it down by the warrior. "How are you feeling?" he asked quietly. He could have been asking about his emotions, about any injuries, about anything, really. The truth was, he cared for and respected Nectarleap deeply, and didn't want him to be upset in any way.

"Stormpaw? Sure," Nectarleap croaked, grief lining his voice. He shouldn't show this much of his personal side in front of his apprentice. He was supposed to be the one to protect him, not the other way around. But sometimes being able to talk to someone, no matter what their age or experience, was a good thing. Laurelsong was a great friend, but grief wasn't something she was good at handling. And admitting everything to Pilentstrike would be embarrassing. Who would tell their role-model everything they did wrong, even if it was the right thing to do? After the second question was asked, he stayed silent for a few moments, looking at the rabbit that had been delivered to his paws. It was a rare find during the harsh season, and could probably feed a whole litter of kits. But they had already been fed. Against his better judgement he took a bite, considering what to tell Stormpaw. In the end, he went with the honorable thing to do.
"No," he confessed after swallowing his bite. The lump in his throat made it painful to eat, but the flavorful and warm taste had his stomach sending messages of gratitude to his brain. He almost smiled. "It's Fawnpaw. And Stoneheart. They were both great cats that didn't deserve to die." His sorrow ridden words almost caused him to let out another sob, but he swallowed it. Enough had been shown already. Bleary eyed, he looked at his apprentice's face, suddenly remembering that he had been there when his daughter had died. He needed some information. "Was she happy when she died? Was she at peace? In pain?" There was no need to say who he was talking about.

Stormpaw looked at his mentor with sympathy when he replied. Of course, he didn't deserve all those deaths. He was a good cat. He took a while to respond to the question of Fawnpaw, seeing as he couldn't remember most of it. He narrowed his eyes and stared at the ground in concentration as he tried to remember exactly what had happened. "Well, I remember fighting. Kestrelkit - I mean, paw, - got knocked out by a badger, and I was the first to find her. There was a patrol, and in the patrol was Fawnpaw, and they came to help. I thought we were winning. We were so close... And then, the great ugly brute whirled around and smashed its shoulder into my head. I mist have been knocked out,
because I can't remember after that, but the others on patrol told me it was a killing bite. Her death was quick. " He explained, the last part trying to comfort Nectarleap. What he hadn't said was that Fawnpaw had leaped in front of him, so the badger took her life instead of his. If it wasn't for him, Fawnpaw would be alive and well. He looked back up to meet the warrior's gaze, guilt sqwirming around in his stomach. If the badger had just taken him instead...

"At least it was quick," Nectarleap reassured himself, voice barely above a whisper. He hated every fiber in that badger's body, for killing Fawnpaw and hurting Stormpaw. The thing deserved a painful death. His usually bright amber eyes were now dull with grief, just thinking about his dead loved ones. None of this could be his fault, right? He hadn't been there when any of them had died, except for Heathershade. But by the time he had gotten to her it was too late. Classmates were dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. For a second anger and frustration filled the warrior, and he let out a growl, claws ripping a few blades of grass from the ground. Then, after stopping and taking a few deep breaths, he realized it was immature and he shouldn't have acted that way around his apprentice. He shouldn't be doing and saying what he was in front of him. Yet it felt good to talk to somebody about his despair. Even so, he felt the need to apologize. "Sorry. You shouldn't have to see me this way." He swallowed down another bite of the rabbit, trying to force every sob back down his throat.