Softbreeze padded slowly through the sparse grass, his paws heavy and lacking the grace he held once upon a time. His overgrown and unkempt pelt snagged on every stick and bramble, and the once blond tom staggered under the burden. His fur had become matted with dirt and mud as he went moons on end without the energy to groom himself. Why bother? His sister was dead by his once-best-friend’s claws. She was the only family he had left, and without her he had lost the will to live. Softbreeze fell into a depression shortly after Fernfeather’s murder, and became unable to fend for himself; he was a burden to the clan, and this realization resulted in him falling even deeper into the depths of despair. He began to wither away, not wanting to take prey away from those who truly deserved it and the pitying glances he received had become too much to bear. Which lead to his current journey.
The ragged tom stumbled to a halt as he came upon his destination, the rushing waters below filling him with both dread and relief. The roar of The Gorge drowned out all other sound, enough that Softbreeze was almost able to forget everything that lead to this moment. The tom closed his eyes and lifted his head, feeling his namesake ruffle his dirtied fur, and pretended that everything would be okay. Softbreeze smiled faintly, at peace with his decision.
He jumped.
The impact with the waters below stole the breath from his lungs.
The water itself ensured he would never take another.
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