things look grim and i'm so sick of being tired

ThunderClan's grim state had reached a point where even Emberheart's seemingly-endless optimism couldn't seem to kick in as much anymore. She sat apart from her Clanmates for the moment, lost in thought. She had avoided her problems for some time, and it was finally catching up to her. With each passing day, it seemed like another life was lost. Faces and names were beginning to blend together in her mind, and she struggled to separate them more and more.

Daypaw, her first apprentice. Specklefang, her mentor... A murderer. Coyotefang, someone who had only touched her life at its edges but whose absence was still incredibly clear now. Who would follow in their pawsteps, and when? How soon would they be grieving once again?

A murderer. A murderer had taught her all she knew about her Clan's sacred Warrior Code. If it weren't for the fact that it made her question her entire worldview, she would have laughed at the irony. It was funny in a dark sort of way. Was everything she knew a lie? It couldn't be. She couldn't live with that fact if it were the truth.

She was falling into herself, more and more each day, withdrawing into her own mind. It wasn't a coping mechanism she could use forever. She had to snap out of it, but at this point she wasn't sure how. She had never fallen this far into grief and despair, always pulled herself up in order to move on. Usually without really acknowledging the problems, admittedly, and that might have contributed to where she was now. She wasn't sure what she could do besides dwell on it, at this point.

Birchheart had finally tired herself out.

Help the elders, clear out moss, fix her nest in the nursery again... tire out any rowdy kits and deal with pains once more. Just stay busy... That had been her method. Really, she'd strive to impress Specklefang. Anything to make sure in her many kits, she wasn't forgotten. Being adopted already put her at a disadvantage. Specklefang had pushed them all out and then done some horrid thing like this... What was wrong with her? Idolizing a killer like that. Wanting the love and care of a killer... Maybe it was for the best that she never got that mother's touch. She wouldn't follow in such bloody pawsteps. Coyotefang... Coyotefang, Coyotefang, Coyotefang... Never there even if his body was. Had he shrugged as he died as well the way he did when her mother was killed? He left her sister with kits and before that had no interest in them. For the first time in her life, she had thought good riddance toward a dead cat. He was nothing more than a warm body in their camp and now he was a frosted over grave. Life felt just the same with him underground.

Foxdung! Her stress caused her kits to lash out, kicking at her in distress. Hissing softly, she was snapped out of her thoughts. Only then had she noticed Emberheart's bright pelt. Grabbing the least frozen prey she could, a squirrel, she padded over. Dropping the prey, she gave a look of sympathy. "What's on your mind, Emberheart? Clanmates are here for a reason."

Emberheart shrugged tiredly. "Things," she said vaguely, and immediately realized how ridiculous it sounded. "Just... Everything that's been happening recently. I think it's all catching up to me." Well, she didn't think it, she knew it, but still. She was emotionally drained, had reached her breaking point and kept going and now was dealing with the consequences, but she wasn't sure how to put that into words. "What about you? No offense, but you don't look that great either."