ripped away ⚜ open

ooc; let cays post first, please.

Poplartooth was the first one to get back to camp. He wanted so hard to make his entire expression seem dull, but there was still an angry glint in his green eyes, and the way he walked seemed to give off a negative, stand-offish vibe. Was he mad at SkyClan? Of course not. SkyClan had done nothing wrong - Sedgestrike had. The journey back to camp had officially convinced the tom that he had done absolutely nothing that was wrong, but the smallest bit of the back of his mind continued to tell him that knocking Sedgestrike unconscious had been wrong. It was time for the Clan to see it with their own eyes, to smell the scent of the dog on Rippedstar's fur, to actually know that the tom that had so recently become leader had fallen to a death that he didn't deserve. Every single one of his lives had been ripped away by the claws and teeth of one creature. Poplartooth didn't bother to look over his shoulder to see if Sedgestrike was there with Rippedstar's body was there, he knew that the silver tom was behind him.

Poplartooth didn't call out for the Clan to gather, he didn't say anything to announce his return, he simply let out a quiet sigh and disappeared into Rippedstar's old den. He couldn't hide in the warriors' den, there were cats in there. So, the only place he could be was the leader's den. He wasn't even an official yet, so the guilt of being in here clawed away at his heart, but he sat down on the ground and let his fluffy tail wrap easily around his brown-and-white paws. The truth had been discovered, but it was so hard to accept. He didn't want to accept it. He wanted to believe that this was all some stupid nightmare, and he would wake up sooner or later to see Rippedstar pad into camp, alive and healthy, and continue to lead SkyClan. That was only his desperation speaking, though, and he longed to get rid of it. Desperation made cats do odd things and have strange ideas, and Poplartooth didn't need that right now. He needed to focus on reasoning, like he usually did. He barely ever let his emotions take control of what he did, so why was he letting that happen, now?

Of all times, why now?

There was a strange absence of sound as Sedgestrike padded solemnly behind Poplartooth. Leaving the twolegplace behind, he felt deaf to the noises of the forest that replaced the noises of the twolegs. Blind to the soft leaves and cracked bark of the forest, the soft soil under his pads erasing the memory of hard asphalt. His jaw ached from where it had an unpleasant encounter with the hard surface. Bits of tiny stone in his pelt from the battles. The feeling only grew worse as he looked at the brown and white tom in front of him. The deputy, the leader.

The cat he had attacked. The one he blamed... his chest ached desperately for Poplartooth to take that blame. To accept it, to give him some reason to be angry and bitter. Yet, with his mentor's body laying on his back, he felt a profound sadness that overshadowed his own thoughts. That beast that did this was still out there, it would probably never die. It deserved to, but if Rippedstar couldn't kill it with all of his nine lives, what was to say anything could? Slowly, he lowered himself to the ground in the middle of camp and lay the body down with care. His muzzle pressed to the black and white fur one last time.

He had never gotten to say the words of comfort he wanted to say after he gained leadership. Sedgestrike would never again hear that voice of reason in the clan, lost the only cat who cared for him, knew him as more than simply an arrogant, stubborn warrior. He swallowed back his tears. He couldn't break down in camp. The alley had been bad enough, he refused to allow another cat to see it. Instead, the silver tom stood and stalked over to the Medicine cat den and found his wounded kit. Licked her head and curled around her protectively, his last bastion agains the darkness that loomed and threatened him.

His last hope.

Sauntering out of the nursery, Sootkit took in a deep breath. It was another peaceful, beautiful day in SkyClan, and the sights that lay just out of the camp never ceased to amaze him. The tom longed for the day that he would get to run, climb, and hunt in them. Sootkit ambled around the outer edges of the secluded clearing, where it was best to really take in the scent of pine and nature. Suddenly, that calm moment was interrupted as a reeking stench hit the jet black cat's nose- one scent he had yet to remember. The odor drifted towards the entrance of the camp, and when he turned to go investigate, it took him a moment to process what had happened, his pupils dilating. There, on the backs of two recognizable warriors, lay a black-and-white pelt that Sootkit knew all too well.

His father.

The jet-black tom hastily scurried towards the two warriors and the limp body. His gaze trembled against the sight of Rippedstar's bloodied, torn body. The view before him was horrifying, and yet the tom couldn't look away. Despite knowing there would be no response, Sootkit lightly nudged his father with great anticipation. His sharp gaze turned to Poplartooth, Sedgestrike, and switched between gathering apprentices and warriors, as if he were about to ask them something, but his gaze kept returning to Rippedstar's dead body. Sootkit's eyes started to water, and he had to force back his tears to prevent the area around him from being drenched. He pressed the top of his head against the bottom of the former leader's muzzle, sobbing into his fur. "You never even got to see me become an apprentice. You'll never get to see me become a warrior. You'll never get to see me to do anything." 

Why wasn't StarClan helping him? His Clan needed him. His deputy needed him. His family needed him. He needed him.

The sun beat down on Darkkit's back, warming the tiny cat up. Her blue eyes danced over the cats of the clan, for once she actually wanted to be alone. The black cat watched as a new patrol entered SkyClan's camp. Darkkit's ear pricked up as she watched the cat that had lead the patrol's expression change - a mix of anger and grief. Darkkit didn't like it. The she-cat arched her back and padded closer to the patrol, her pupils dilating so she could send what was happening better.

That is when her heart stopped and the lump appeared in her throat.

She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to wail and rip out her eyes, to rid herself of what she had seen. Except she couldn't do anything. Her body had gone numb with grief and shock. Darkkit's hearing was dull as her brother ran past her, towards her father's broken body. Everyone was here around Darkkit, yet she'd never felt so alone. Her world was crushed and nothing could bring it back.

Darkkit stood there rigid and shivering, but eventually she managed to will her short legs to shakily step towards her father's bloody carcass. Every step seemed to be agony, taking her closer to the nightmare she didn't want truly confirmed. Even if she wanted to turn back and flee, she couldn't, there was no way her mind would let her go back.

Darkkit's legs stopped moving when she got there, and the poor she-cat collapsed. She was unable to think or do anything, she just felt numb. She just wanted something, anything, to take her mind off the pain. The black kit's eyes glanced sadly at her brother and father. Her whole world had been turned upside down in seconds and she couldn't fix it - no one could.

ooc: edited to add ashpaw because i lowkey forgot about him

ic:
Mosskit watched confused as her siblings sauntered out of the nursery. Where were they going? What was going on? She flicked her black ears as she stared towards the outside of the nursery. She saw cats coming into camp; oh, what was so bad about another patrol coming in? In fact, that was a good thing. Patrols came and went daily, so why was this one perceive a different reaction? It wasn't until she heard Sootkit's wails that she understood something had gone terribly wrong. Something terribly wrong that even had the entire clan gathering around with grief stricken faces. Fear instantly seized the kit's heart as she scrambled up to her feet and raced out of the den. 

Mosskit weaved her way towards the crowd and to the center of the action, tripping over her own paws as she slipped from the abrupt stop. She tentatively sniffed the air and immediately regretted it; the smell was horrid! The young kitten wrinkled her muzzle as she heaved herself onto her paws. She turned her head and saw the small figure of Darkkit, on the ground for only Starclan knew what. Hesitantly, she approached her sister and prepared to ask her what was wrong when she saw it.

The mangled body of their father, limply resting on the ground. So..so this is what had been attracting so much attention. Her father...the mighty leader of Skyclan had.. Mosskit began to tremble at the sight, denial hitting her full force. "P..Papa?" Her voice sounded so tiny and weak, she hated it. Quietly, she stumbled forward, pressing her nose against his bloody fur. It wasn't fair. He hadn't even had the chance to say goodbye to them. Starclan, the last time they spoke to him he appeared to despise them! Mosskit choked, burying her face deeper into the black and white fur, now forever cold, silently begging for him to come back. But, there was a part of her that knew he wouldn't. Rippedstar had gone away for good. He had left her and her siblings behind to deal with this cruel world without him. How was she going to fare without her father?

Darkkit's heartbroken cry nearby snapped her out of her own trance. She scurried over to her and comfortingly pressed against her, offering a sad smile. He wouldn't be there for them, but she would. Yes, for sure. She'd be there for her siblings, no matter what.

~~~~~

Ashpaw was among the last cats to arrive at the scene. Still limping from his injuries, the gray and white tabby pushed through the growing crowd until he was near the front. The sight before him took his breath away. His eyes widened as he felt grief for the second time in the past few sunrises. "No..no, it can't be. He had so many lives! Starclan..." He turned his head away from the sight as he fought back tears, but they managed to slip past his eyes anyway.

Why did it have to be Rippedstar? He was a loving, sweet cat who didn't deserve what had happened. The pain blooming inside of him was growing to be too much for his shattered heart...

"Why isn't Dad moving?" The moment Clearkit spoke the words out loud, he knew the answer. He was far from stupid. Death was common among the clan, or so it seemed. Some warrior always seemed to be talking about StarClan. But for some reason, he didn't feel that sad. Of course, longing to see Rippedstar again was a feeling he simply could not get rid of, but it provided hope. His father had always seemed sad and depressed, and maybe in StarClan he could finally find happiness. Sometimes sacrifices needed to be made, so even though he was now without a father, at least he knew that his dad was happy. The stars would take care of him well. They were so beautiful, so how could they not be safe? Padding towards the former leader's body, a sudden wave of grief washed over the young tom. A selfish sort of wanting. Just wanting to see the black and white tom get up and play with him like everything was normal. But he would still had sorrow in his eyes. Scars, both physical and mental, would still burden him. So the kit put all his greedy longings away. "StarClan will treat him well. He'll be happy there!" Anyone must of thought he was crazy. The mix of grief and relief sounded high pitched, so much so that he doubted even a songbird could sing a higher note. What was this confliction inside of him? Why was it there? It seemed to cut through his belly like a thorn bush, as he struggled for air. Finally, he ran back into the nursery, his lungs finally working again. One thought let him relax. Dad would be happier in the stars.

"What's going on?" Lilykit had been playing nearby when she noticed a crowd gathering. "Is dad home?" With a happy squeal of excitement, the small white she-kit ran as best she could towards the others.
"Why's daddy lying down like that?"
Her usually bright voice suddenly seemed much thicker, darkened perhaps by confusion. "Why... what... what's wrong with him?" Even she, the youngest of Rippedstar's kits, knew something was wrong. It became apparent when she took another step forward and was able to run her small nose through her father's thick black-and-white fur, trying to find the warm, familiar scent that she was used to. Instead, the small kit drew back quickly, appaled by the strong smell of... death.
"Oh no... oh no, oh no!" She wailed, turning around only to look back once more. "No... dad... dad, wake up! Please... please..." And then she was at his side, shaking him, nudging him, doing all she could to get her father back on his feet.
"Sootkit! D-Darkkit...? M-Mosskit... help. Help me. Please, somebody, help me wake him up..." She didn't understand. She didn't understand. She didn't understand."Please..." She whispered, curling up near her father with her wide blue eyes shut tight as if it was all a dream. "Wake up, wake up, wake up..." She whispered into her paws.

Mintwhisker scurried through the crowd, murky green eyes filled with dread. "What happened...? Poplartooth, what h-happened?"
She froze.
"W-w-w-what?"
And then she was on the ground, her head buried in her paws, her whole body shaking as she sobbed into Rippedstar's cold pelt. She had feared the worst, but now that it was actually happening, she couldn't begin to process it. If she had been there, if she had insisted on going with him...
He wouldn't have let her. She knew that. He was too kind, too selfless. He would've wanted her to serve Skyclan while he was away. What did she do to deserve such a noble cat as her leader?
Pansyface, her sister... and now, Starclan had taken the one cat that mattered most to her. As close as a father. This wasn't... this couldn't... She couldn't think. She couldn't breathe. Rippedstar was always there. He was constant, unchanging. Ready to offer advice, comfort, someone to listen to when her thoughts crowded her anxious mind as they so often did.
But he was gone.

Fawnpaw herself was shell-shocked when she saw Rippedstars body, he was the reason that she stayed in Skyclan, so what was to happen to her now? She looked fearfully towards her mentor for a moment before she quickly tried to hide away her fear, she didn't think Poplartooth really liked her... or anyone but Shrikepaw and maybe Mintwhisker. Fawnpaw felt like it was wrong to touch her nose to his fur, she never got to let him know she loved him like a father. Never got to tell him how much she appreciated the safety he'd granted her, but how was she ever going to tell any cat anything?

Fawnpaw watched Rippedstars kits crowd his still, bloody form, calling for him, praying that this was all fake. She wished it was. Fawnpaw got to her paws, her lips moving as she wished him a silent prayer. Fawnpaw wished so desperately that she could speak, that she could wish him well, tell every cat how she was feeling and how they meant so much to her so they'd at least know what she thought of them before they passed. Fawnpaw shut her eyes tight before turning on her paws towards the apprentice's den to sob out her grief, for it was the only way to express it.

Watching from the crowd as cats gathered around Rippedstar's cold, unmoving body, Tinylegs said a silent prayer to StarClan, praying that they would take care for the younger leader and that he would wisely guide other cats from the stars above. Personally, the little tom didn't know Rippedstar too well, but he did know that even though he abandoned his former clan, he became a loyal and valuable leader to SkyClan, in which he assumed every-cat would agree.

"May StarClan light his path," Tinylegs mewed softly, his head lowed over hunched shoulders. Today, SkyClan lost a valiant warrior, family member, and friend. The clan would forever remember and cherish him and Tinylegs hoped that his death wasn't in vain, but rather brought some peace, in some way, shape, or form.