starward bound Δ closed

"Love is pathetic, but love is strong. Love is so strong that it even managed to pull me into its cold claws, but never again. I'm not going to let myself be tricked by something so artificial ever again. I've learned my lesson, and now I'm never making the same mistake, again."

Love, indeed was a strong force. The amount of emotions and complications behind one simple word was enough to make the head of the most intelligent cat spin in confusion. There were many different ways to describe love. Some might find it to be treacherous, something that slows one down, something that's useless. Others might find it to be one of the most incredible things in the world - love, a desire to be drawn to that which the heart has chosen.

"This... th-this is why I never should've fallen in love. I did it anyway! I decided to follow my stupid heart instead of my head, and then this happens!"

The cold claws of love were something that could either be perceived as incredible or disastrous. Moons ago, Newtface had seen those claws as offenders. He had felt upset with the fact that he had been deceived by love, and he had made it his one promise to himself that he'd never let it happen again. However, it had happened again. The speckled tom's heart had been taken once again by those cold claws, and his heart had been shoved in the direction of Tansyheart, his current mate. Looking down at his two beautiful daughters was a gorgeous reminder of how stunning love could be when seen through eyes of pure positivity.

"All I have is myself. No cat should ever have to go through that, but yet I do. Why should I try to take time out of my day to go find another cat to love when I could get my heart broken once again?"

Perhaps Rosepetal was proud of the fact that he had moved on and managed to find the happiness that every cat deserved. Perhaps she was smiling down on him from where she sat in the realm of StarClan. Perhaps she was also smiling at the fact that he was smiling, too. Smiling was more than just a simple action for Newtface. With every grin, whether it be big or small, he was reminded of the fact that he had gotten over the rather large hill of sadness that he had been stuck on for long. On the other side of that hill had been a field full of magnificent flowers and tall grass. The sunsets and sunrises splattered brilliant colors across the sky, and the nights were always starry and captivating. He had found his happiness in that field, he had found his glee in his daughters, he had found his hope and his light in the eyes of his mate.

"There are cats... that would miss you. Just as much as you miss Rosepaw, Newtface! We're your Clanmates. We care about you more than you know."

There were two graves that mattered the most to Newtface - the grave of his stillborn son and his first love. He had made it his duty to bury his son right next to Rosepetal. It just felt... correct. Tonight was one of those nights where the speckled tom needed to go to those graves again. He needed to say words to his first love, he needed to say words to his deceased son, and he wanted them to hear from StarClan. The sadness that glittered in the tom's eyes as he stared down at the two heaps of dirt was overruled by hope. He had come to accept the fact that they were both in a better place, and that gave him the courage to keep moving forward. Unfortunately, the tom had no idea that he'd be in that better place sooner than later.

"Oh, Newtface, come back with me. Everything is going to be okay,"

The hard surface of the Thunderpath was the last thing that Newtface wanted to look at, but he found himself staring at it, anyway. During his 'down days', he had feared the Thunderpath more than any other cat. Simply thinking about it would send him into a temporary state of paranoia. It was so hard to imagine the monsters without remembering how Rosepetal had fallen to her death. However, every now and then, cats had to accept the fact that the world around them wasn't perfect, and that bad things were going to occur no matter what. Unfortunately, a 'bad thing' was going to be the last thing that every cat experienced. Death was a bad thing, right? Not necessarily. It all depended on the circumstances. Death was a way to let go when the time was right. Cats that were in pain would no longer have to suffer through it, cats that were old would finally be able to regain their youth, and every cat would gain the wisdom that StarClan gave all of their starry members.

"Everything will be okay."

Sadly, Newtface was oblivious to the fact that his life was about to be ripped away in an action so sudden and sharp.

"I miss you, Rosepetal," The tortoiseshell murmured, staring down at his paws, "Even if I have found love, that doesn't mean that I don't remember you. Do you remember me? Do you remember the times we shared? The conversations we had? I do. I wouldn't forget it for the world. No matter what, I will give my kits and my mate the love they deserve, and I'll do it all for you, too."

He let out a sigh, sinking his claws into the dirt beside the grimy Thunderpath.

"Death and love is a dangerous mix..."

If only he would've been more prepared. If only he would've been a bit more alert. If only his eyes would've been set on the sights in front of him instead of on his speckled paws.

There were so many loud noises and horrifying sights...

Blinding lights...

Swerving and screeching...

Out of control...

Impact.

And there wasn't even any time for him to gasp out more words of grief or pain. With his bloodied, heavily injured body pressed forcefully against the ground, it was even difficult for him to look up at the stars with yellow eyes that expressed nothing but anguish. The monster that had swerved so violently was still off of the Thunderpath, and the twoleg that it belonged to seemed to be unmoving, asleep, so peaceful yet so disturbed at the same time.

And as Newtface managed to catch a glimpse at the two heaps of dirt that signified the burial of his first love and his only son, a small tear rolled down his face and stained the ground below him.

It was time to join them...

Heartbeats weakened, breathing decreased, darkness increased...

...and Newtface was starward bound.

Padding through ShadowClan’s territory with Asterleaf and Ferretpaw behind him, Mudfoot kept a steady pace as the trio headed to the Thunderpath for their morning border patrol. After a few more moments of walking, they arrived, but instead of the usual strong stench of the unnatural, black path, something else hit the warrior’s nose. Blood.

Fur raised and claws out, he turned to his clanmates. "Stay close and alert," the russet pelted tom mewed and began stalking forward, cautious of any possible enemy attacks. But it wasn’t an enemy that he saw, it was Newtface; the tom’s blood and mangled body lying alongside the path.

"Newtface!" he yowled and rushed over to the tom. About to ask if the warrior was alright, Mudfoot stopped and observed to see that there was no rise and fall of his chest. Placing a paw onto his clanmate’s paw, it held and erie, chilliness to it, unlike more cats, which only told him one thing. He was dead.

Lowering his head, Mudfoot casted a glance towards Asterleaf and Ferretpaw. "He’s gone," he mewed softly. "Let’s get him back to camp," Mudfoot added, but didn’t lift his head quite yet. After giving his fallen clanmate a moment of silence, he leaned down and clamped his jaws around the scruff of the bodie’s neck, ready to go.

ooc;; harlem said tis morning btw

Taking in the sights of the peaceful forest, Ferretpaw followed the two older cats. She recoiled at the putrid scent of the Thunderpath, but today something smelled even worse. When she followed the equally-concerned warriors, the realization hit her. It was the smell of a decomposing carcass. Far from the scent of Carrionplace, but the two shared a sickly stuffiness, the feeling that she needed to dip in cool, cleansing water after merely finding herself near its source. She shrunk back, cautious and frightful, expecting the worst... and receiving it. The she-cat yelped almost inaudibly, her eyes, huge with fear, darting from her paws to Newtface's corpse and away in repulse and grief. Imperceptibly, her body refused to cross the line between black stone and the woodland, and she remained in the shadows, watching.

"R-right.." the apprentice suppressed the urge to throw up as Mudfoot passed by her, dragging away the lifeless husk. Turning tails, she dipped her head down and followed.