birds were not made for the underground (death topic)

rip cranepaw you deserve it you jerk))


Apprenticeship was boring... all of the moons of sleeping and sometimes hunting bored Cranepaw out of his mind. There had been a talk about him, between the warriors. That he never worked hard enough, that he was always a slacker with no respect for his elders. Fox-dung. He was above it all, he didn't need to abide to some stupid rules that told him to be polite. Once he would be a warrior, he would show them all that he was the best.

Problem was, his apprenticeship never seemed to finish. It went on the same, for much longer than it was supposed to, Cranepaw noticed. One day, bluntly refusing to even train, the sand-colored apprentice found himself wandering across the territory. It all felt strange and unpleasant to him, as if he was seeing it for the first time.It dawned on him that he barely knew the layout of WindClan territory, beyond the fact that it was all moorland. He shrugged, mentally blaming it on Lionstorm.

Rain began to patter the ground, steady and cold on his short fur. He shuddered, ducking into a small tunnel. The smell of whatever had dug it was stale, but the den was large and the tunnel, though narrowing, went on further down. Mindlessly, Cranepaw carried on further down. The sound of the falling droplets became dull and almost inaudible above him. His heartbeat was the only thing he could hear, until a crashing sound right above him. He looked up wildly, and he watched as a crack spread above him, into the dark ground, and his mouth filled up with dirt before he could scream for any help.