When the Beating Stops [OPEN]

The young she-cat never noticed how strange it was that she got exhausted so quickly. When her patrolmates were still ripe with energy, her paws had already begun to go numb. She simply thought that was normal. Besides, she was a bit smaller and more petite so the distance was more taxing on her young frame. Ignorant of her own unique condition, Chervilpaw pushed herself. Her breathing came in shorter pants but the work was exhausting. That was just a fact. Regardless of the thudding in her chest, the apprentice picked her way back to camp as she admired the beauty of the multicolored forest. A variety of leaves danced around her, the dry ones crunching so softly under her pads. Her green eyes were bright as she paused for a moment to drop the slim thrush and suck in a low breath.

When she felt comfortable enough continuing on, Chervilpaw cleared the ravine with heaving sides. It was like she was about to collapse the moment she wobbled unsteadily into Thunderclan camp. That was strange. She hadn't been out much, never worked herself this hard. Chervilpaw was young, not long out of the nursery. She barely knew what it meant to be an apprentice. As her normally graceful steps faltered, her head swimming, the she-cat glanced around for her friend Pricklepounce. Or one of her siblings. She blinked. What had she been looking for? Regardless, her eyelids felt heavy. Her chest threatened to tear apart but the discomfort was diluted under the noise in her head. The pretty tabby fell on her side, the thrush going with her. And everything went black.

A slight chill carried on the air as Marshstorm groomed the last remains of his piece of fresh-kill from his paws. This morning seemed like any other. He had organised patrols and gone on the dawn one, with nothing amiss in the territory besides the eerie glow from the sun, he had been content to rest his paws for a brief period before taking his apprentice out. What he hadn't expected was for an apprentice to stagger in looking like she could fall asleep on her face. Amusement quickly turned to deep concern as he saw her actually collapse.

"Chervilpaw!" His yowl cut through the normal milling of the day as he bolted towards the fallen apprentice. He shoved the thrush away from under her head and licked her face in a vain attempt to wake her. What had happened? He looked over her body carefully, but there were no grevious wounds. No scent of predator in her coat. His jaws parted to send a cat for Mapleleaf only to remember... Mapleleaf wasn't medicine cat anymore. Worse, he had sent her on a patrol. He bit back a curse as he realised it was pointless anyways. He could smell it now. Faint but so clear. The stench of death.

He took a deep breath behind gritted teeth and laid his head against Chervilpaw's.
"You were too young to leave us... may StarClan light your path." He murmured softly into her fur before he finally stood and with a sudden weight of weariness padded a couple steps away so her clanmates could visit her.

Flintpaw's paws were numb after hunting all day. The apprentice wanted nothing more then to lay down in his nest and wish the cold of leaf-fall away. He trotted into camp, his eyes half closed, and almost stumbled over his sister, who lay in the middle of the clearing, silent.
"Hey mousebrain!" He teased, tapping Chervilpaw lightly on the shoulder. "I promise you your nest is a lot warmer than the clearing. Wake up you furball." A slight pang welled up in Flintpaw's chest, but he shook it away. She's just tired... The tabby tom thought, his heart beating faster and faster. "Just tired..." He croaked, blood pulsing through his ears. In a daze, the apprentice spotted the Thunderclan deputy, Marshstorm padding over to Chervilpaw. "What's wrong with Chervilpaw?" He asked shakily, barely able to muster a whisper. "She's okay right? Where's the medicine cat?" As Marshstorm fell silent, Flintpaw's eyes began to glaze over. He buried his nose in his sister's fur, sobbing. "Chervilpaw please wake up... Who's...Who's gonna keep me company in the apprentice den?" The gray tabby tom tried to laugh, "And who's gonna beat me at mossball? Ah come on Chervilpaw you were always better at that than me...." The apprentice breathed in her scent, tears streaming down his face. "I'll see you later okay?" Flintpaw heard Marshstorm's words; may StarClan light your path...
"Go with StarClan…" Flintpaw echoed, curling up beside his sister's limp body, "I love you..."

"Flintpaw..." It was Leafstorm who drew close next, watching the young apprentice as he desperately tried to wake his sister. It made the tom's chest ache as he remembered his sister Sunkit's own desperate attempts to wake their sister Icekit. Just like Chevrilpaw, she had fallen into a deep slumber that she would never wake from, curled in their nest.
At first, he thought she was sleeping.

"She's in Starclan now," He murmured, gently brushing against Flintpaw for just a moment before turning his worried gaze to the darkened sky. If Starclan even exists anymore... Shifting his weight, the grizzled warrior placed one large paw on Chevrilpaw's chest, closing his eyes and whispering a silent prayer. Thunderclan mourns the loss of one so young, the loss of a life left unlived. May her ancestors guide her to the place of Stars.

"What a shame," Bushpaw spoke, a rare display of emotion choking her voice. Too bad it was all faked. Padding over to the body of her dead sister, she had quite the realistic show of grief and shock covering her expression, even to the point of slightly heavier breathing. Grief wasn't the hardest emotion to fake, happiness was actually way more difficult. The truth was, she felt nothing as she looked down at the corpse of a cat who had been so close to her. While she was alive, she had never seen her as anything but competition anyway. Cats died, it was a part of life. Who cared if this had been her sister? Once they were dead, all bodies were pretty much the same. If cats hadn't been watching, her expression would have stayed flat and she would have simply walked away. But she had to play the part of a caring sister, and a good clanmate who for some reason grieved when it held no purpose at all. Sitting down next to Flintpaw, she curled her tail around him with their pelts touching, making sure that he could feel how unstable her breath was. "Sh-she's gone." Trying to make it look like she had just realized the very obvious fact, she left out a few sobs, though couldn't quite get tears out. "I-it's okay, Flintpaw. You still have me." Trying to make hope sound fake was easy, but adding grief to that was a challenge she welcomed. Now cats wouldnt only believe she felt emotions, but she would also seem like a good sister. Just one more thing everyone else was doing. "May..." No, she couldn't do it. Even for an act, blessing StarClan would seem like a sin towards the Lords. To hide her mistake, she bent over in sobs, pressing her face into the fur of dead sister. It was gross, but a necessity. If cats still didn't buy her act, at least she could say she tried.