wash out the grief (c)

The camp was silent again, the wind barelly stirring any leaf in the canopy above. In the center of camp, a moveless lump of black fur. Noses of many SkyClan cats had been pressed against the corpse as a mourning sign, and some still were. It was unbearable to watch all of this unfold. Hastily and with little tears, Quietpaw had followed suit, more in a sense of obligation. The cats he looked up to seemed so weak at this point, so incredibly vulnerable. The memory of the dogs, the blood, the shrieks was still to fresh in their heads.

Not quite in shock and not quite alright, the apprentice lingered around the outside of the den, watching the sky with an unmoved glare. Clouds were gathering, bitter-sweet rain threatening to spill. He welcomed it warmly, it was what they needed to wash away the horrible signs of the battle that had taken place beforehand in the camp. The bodies of the dogs, heavy, slobbering beasts, were no longer in sight. Quietpaw released a sigh of relief when the fainted of droplets fell on the bridge of his nose. It was cool, calming, and it reminded him of Drizzlepaw. She had been in the medicine cat's den with greencough and was just taking a walk when the fight broke out. He hadn't been able to check on her since, but he just hoped she was alright. Whereever she was.

All he could smell was rain... rain... rain... Drizzlepaw... rain...

The light gray tom blinked slowly, turning his head to look at the silver tabby. She was besides him. His uncannily icy eyes betrayed a spark of humane gentleness. A stone had been lifted of his heart. "Dazzle... I mean Drizzlepaw... you're fine." Nothing more than a statement. It sounded off, his voice unsure of itself.

Her gentle touch brought back bitter-sweet memories, a rush of kithood nostalgia, per say. An easier time when he could get away with how he felt because cats thought he was young and didn't know any better. But these days it was different, the amount of things he could share, the bustling thoughts in his brain, threatening to break free every time he opened his mouth.

"Whooshpaw." he commented, settling down with an almost falling-like movement on the stubby grass under neath his paws. It brushed against his underbelly smoothly, comforting almost. Between that and the light shower, his mind began drifting away as he settled his head on his paws, looking into nothingness.