End of the Rope {Closed}

At last, the storm had died down. The forces of the wind, which had still been whistling against the cliff faces hours ago, were now quiet as if they had never kicked up a fuss. As the first, barely-visible rays of a new dawn crept across the debris-strewn shore, they touched lightly on the ragged encampment of cats. Half-hidden in their newfound shelter, the clans had successfully made it through the night. One cat now pulled himself to his paws, stumbling from his makeshift nest. Exhaustion weighed heavily on Scorchclaw's shoulders, and the weariness imbued in his features was hard to hide. Tired as he had been, the RiverClan deputy had barely slept a wink. How could he have been expected to rest? For the second time in mere days, the clans had witnessed the devastating strength of nature's fury. It was a blessing that the other clan representatives had so swiftly accepted his decision to head inland. The towering cliffs had shielded the clan cats from the brunt of the damage, but there had been a few close calls the day before. While some of his clanmates had miraculously managed to fall asleep, Scorchclaw had not been one of them. The moment he had become their deputy, he had already lost the right to live in such a carefree manner. Ever since their arrival in unfamiliar land, he had not slept well even once. Now that the long night was over, one might have expected the large tabby to feel relieved; but there was little capacity left in his being to feel such emotion. The pale-green gaze that flicked towards the horizon was cold and dark.

As usual, the distant twinkle of Silverpelt overhead seemed full of mocking.

Among the slumbering forms, one particular white pelt was missing. To be more precise, it had ceased to be a white in color for a while now, and was now more of a dirty grey. But that pelt was nowhere to be seen among the huddle of the RiverClan cats. Out of routine, Scorchclaw silently counted his clanmates. Wasppaw was present, and Dewshine's litter was curled up at Thornbriar's belly a short distance away. Magpiepaw, Hailsong, Larkfeather... They were all there, except for Flurryshine. Yes—except for Flurryshine. Although barely visible in the dim lighting, the tom's brow furrowed. Quietly and carefully, so as not to wake any cat, he maneuvered past the furry bodies. Once or twice, a careless tail lolling out into his way had to be avoided last-minute. Then he had disentangled himself from the nests, and was standing on damp grass. The fluffy tom lingered for a second or two, watching his clanmates, before he turned and padded off.

Scorchclaw did not have far to go. Before long, the pungent scent that he had unfortunately come to know greeted him. No matter how many more moons he had left to live, he doubted he would ever forget it. He would never get used to it either. It was the scent of death, the scent of rotting flesh. Sickening with an unmistakable tang, the smell permeated the air like a disease. He gritted his teeth, forcing his thick fur to lie flat. With every passing day, it grew worse. Perhaps more unbearable than the stench, however, was the fact that she could continue to lie by it. He knew that the warrior was not asleep, and he called out to her. "Flurryshine." He forced the name out in a low voice. How different she looked, barely a shell of her former self. He barely recognized her anymore—the dirty, unkempt she-cat who could no longer join her clanmates because of the corpses she bore. He cast the bodies only a brief glance. He could not bring herself to look at them head on; every fiber of his being screamed against it. Without even realizing it himself, he had tensed up. In reality, he knew that grief had changed her. But why...? Why did this have to happen? His whiskers quivered faintly. "The two of them no longer walk this realm. How long are you going to keep this up?" Just barely, he managed to keep his voice under control.

In life, there were things one had to do, no matter how much he dreaded them. He had decided to put his paw down, and he was doing so now. No matter what happened, he could not afford to change his mind.

Did he not feel sorry for her? Did he not understand some of her pain? Of course he did. But... he had reached his limit. As RiverClan's leader in Jaystar's stead, he had to do something, even if it meant the sacrifice of one cat. Yes, even if it meant the sacrifice of one cat. And that sacrifice was probably going to be the hardest one he had ever made.

Flurryshine couldn’t remember the last time she had gotten any proper rest. She would stay up throughout the day and night, carrying the rather disgusting and hardly recognizable corpses of her former mentor — her motherly figure, her best friend, the only cat she ever truly cared most for in the world — and her mentor’s loving and loyal mate Gingerstripe, wherever she went. She was getting so incredibly tired and worn out. Everything around her reeked of death and decay, and sometimes she would pass out from sheer exhaustion, but she knew that in time it would become a small price to pay. Once RiverClan returned back home, then she could finally bury them in their home. Of course, Gingerstripe had been born in ShadowClan, but she knew that wherever Dewshine was, that had always been home to the ginger tom.

And wherever Dewshine was, that was home to Flurryshine.

Jolting with a start at Scorchclaw’s sudden voice, not having heard or scented his approach, she lifted up her head slowly to look at him through exhausted, dull green eyes. Fatigue had made her incredibly snippy, irritable, and impatient in time, and she narrowed her eyes and growled lowly at him at his question. Yes, she was growling at the RiverClan deputy, something no cat would ever dream of doing. ”Until we return to RiverClan territory. If I had told you this once, I had told you a thousand times, Scorchclaw. Get off my back and leave me with Dewshine and Gingerstripe, will you?” As if assuming he would do what had been demanded of him, Flurryshine turned her back rather rudely on him and nuzzled closer to her loved ones.

The warrior started, apparently not having noticed Scorchclaw's approach. It was no surprise that she had not. The nauseating odor was pungent enough to cover a cat's individual scent. As Flurryshine turned, the two green gazes clashed. The RiverClan deputy looked into her face, and one thought flashed through his mind. Who was he looking at? Of course he knew the answer. This she-cat was his clanmate. But was she really? The tip of his tail twitched ever so slightly.

At the sharp response he received, Scorchclaw drew his tufted ears back. A soft growl rumbled in his chest. "Flurryshine, open your eyes." His tone was hard, tinged with the frustration that churned within his being. "Do you not see the state those bodies are in? Do you not smell the stench? We are too far from RiverClan territory, and you know that just as well as I do. At this rate, those bodies will waste away before we ever reach home." She was mad—driven mad with grief. No sane cat would continue to touch those corpses, those soulless husks of flesh. He paused, drawing a deep breath. She had to have guessed what he was about to say next. "Cease this foolishness, Flurryshine..." In that moment, his expression twisted into one of grief and helplessness. "It is time to bury them. Dewshine would no doubt mourn to see you in this state."

Oh, how he wished that the flood had never been anything but a nightmare. If only things were so, he had simply to wake up, and life would return to the way he knew it.

But alas, he was very much awake.

All at once, in the blink of an eye, Flurryshine rose up to her paws and slashed her claws hard across Scorchclaw’s muzzle. ”You don’t know anything about Dewshine! You never even tried to get to know her until after you assigned me to her as an apprentice, and even when you talked to her, it would be about my progress! I know her! I know she would want to be buried next to her mate in her home! I know she’ll want me to have the capability to visit her burial site without having to spend days wandering in unknown territory trying to recall where they had been buried!”

She panted heavily, her venting having sucked up a lot of her minimal energy, and she sank back down onto her belly next to Dewshine. ”You don’t care about them. You don’t care about where they’re buried. You say you care about the good of the Clan, but I care about the good of the Clanmates, because the Clanmates are the Clan. What if Jaystar has died out there? Would you want to bury him out here in the wilderness, where his memory will be lost, where no one could ever sit vigil for him or pay their respects for him, or would you want him to be buried in RiverClan territory so generations may remember what a grand leader he was?”

Shaking her head impatiently, she snuggled closer to her deceased mentor, wrapping her legs and tail protectively around her. ”We’re not burying them until we get back to RiverClan territory. I won’t live too much longer after we return home anyway. I won’t want to.... Please, Scorchclaw, just let me do this one last thing before I join them in StarClan. Please....”

Scorchclaw knew soon after the words had left his mouth that he had made a mistake. With the realization still sinking into his mind, Flurryshine's claws tore into his muzzle. For a second or two, he merely stared at the lithe she-cat. His pale-green eyes were wide, reflecting his shock. Then the sting of pain stirred him to reality, and he clenched his jaws. He had known that she would disagree; the possibility of her reacting with violence had also existed. He should have chosen his words with more tact. His eyelids briefly flitting shut, the large tabby drew a breath. The newleaf air that rushed into his lungs cooled the fuse that could otherwise have burnt out. Flurryshine's words assailed his ears—sharp... but containing a certain degree of truth.

Calm down, Scorchclaw.

As the greatly-weakened warrior collapsed into a half-crouch, the tom's gaze followed her. His expression grew strained with the effort it took to keep his emotions contained, but his eyes were dark and ominously unreadable. At the mention of Jaystar, they narrowed. A flicker of anger passed over his features. Half a second? One second? However long it lasted, he had looked absolutely livid for one brief instance. It was gone all too quickly, but in the void it left behind, something else quickly crept in—a growing emptiness that drove the hesitation from his mind.

Blood welled from the wounds on his muzzle, slowly trickling down.

He really did feel exhausted.

Flurryshine's plea trailed off into silence, Scorchclaw simply staring down at her. The tension in that moment could have been thick enough to be cut with a claw. Then, the brown tabby finally responded. "Perhaps you are correct." Those slow, first few words were as cold as the river in leaf bare. "I know nothing about Dewshine. I know nothing about what she would want. It was simply thoughtless arrogance that led me to use her name." All semblance of sympathy been put aside. Here was no one but the deputy who had come to do his duty. "In fact, I know nothing about you, either. If I had been wiser, I would not have given you so many apprentices. I would not have put so much faith in a single warrior who I sympathized with. My actions did nothing but further ruin you." He spoke quickly now, his tone clipped and harsh. The dark-striped tail lashed. "If you wish to believe that I do not care where they are buried, that I do not care for our clanmates, then so be it. 'You are right.' Even if I acknowledge those claims, what of them? Jaystar, the grand leader you speak of, has chosen me to be his second-in-command—Not any other cat, but someone like me. And with him gone, I am in charge."

Someone like him—why did it have to be someone like him? The chaotic emotions that had been swirling within him for far too long were restrained again. But the maelstrom still succeeded in spilling out.

Pausing, the large tabby leveled an icy glare at Flurryshine. He asked in a low voice, "Do you believe yourself to be the only one miserable, Flurryshine?" Wasppaw had also lost her sister. Ever since that day, his apprentice had not been the same. The RiverClan cats on this shore had been separated from their family and friends. They did not know if they would ever be able to return. They did not know if the forest was even habitable anymore. They did not even know if their loved ones were still alive, or if they would be able to reunite again. "Look around you!" He spat. "You are too wrapped up in your own misery! Were you not going to look after Dewshine's litter, give them love in your mentor's place? What have you contributed to raising them? You speak of knowing what the dead would want, yet you forget the wishes she made while she was yet alive! Did she not tell you to live?!"

The more Scorchclaw rose his voice at her, the more Flurryshine began to tremble and shrink back, looking even smaller than she already did in her state. She knew he was right. She knew there were so many other cats who had lost loved ones. She just didn’t want to think about anyone else but herself, because thinking of multiple losses rather than just the one would have been too much for her to bear.

At his questions, she looked back up at him from where she stared timidly at the ground. She looked so tired and defeated, and guilt was beginning to gnaw at her belly at the reminders of the final promise she couldn’t keep to her mentor. ”Have you forgotten who you’re speaking to?” she rasped. ” Who was it that let Icepaw die because she had been too busy training an apprentice, only for said apprentice to die in battle? Who was it that had requested of Goldeneye to kill Sootcloud during one of his seizures? Who was it that had abandoned Sunpaw to die in favor of rescuing her mentor, only for her to die anyway?”

She shook her head slowly, staring at the ground again. ”I was no true mother to them. What makes you think I could ever be a mother to Dewshine’s kits? I’m in no state to care for another kit ever again. I never should have cared for any kits in the first place. I wish I had never had kits with that nasty traitor Hillfire, or agreed to help Aspenstrike care for his own motherless kits.”

Glaring back up at the deputy, the molly narrowed her eyes at him slightly. ”I wish to bring Dewshine and Gingerstripe back to RiverClan territory. But ... I can already tell you will not allow me to do so. With that being said ... if you truly wish to ignore my wishes and bury them here ... then I shall remain here by their side. I will not return to RiverClan territory with you.” It would be difficult for her to say goodbye to her Clanmates, to her only two living sisters, Coldgaze and Meadowpaw. But she wasn’t going to let Dewshine be too far away for her to visit her burial place without being missed by her Clan for too long. She would remain by her beloved mentor’s side forever.

Scorchclaw saw before him, now more than ever, a defeated warrior. Every time life had knocked her down, Flurryshine had clambered back to her paws. She had already gone through the loss of an apprentice entrusted to her, the loss of her adopted son, the loss of her mates, the loss of her mother, and the loss of her biological son. It was possible that she had lost even more that he was unaware of. Time and time again, she had appeared to withstand the pain and grief. But with every fall, a piece of her soul had been chipped away. Now that her precious mentor and biological daughter had also been take away, her strength was used up. She could no longer stand. No. The large tabby gritted his teeth, giving one lash of his feathery tail. Are you truly unable to go on, Flurryshine? Or have you simply given up?

Now the threat hung audibly in the air. If there had been any question of the she-cat's response before, they were answered now. Scorchclaw met her glare with his own immovable one. He had known. He had more or less known that she would force him to this point. As such, her words barely fazed him. By burying the corpses, he would essentially kill her. She was going to make him responsible for her death. How absolutely cruel she was. Yet before he had even spoken, his answer could have been written on his face. He believed she realized that truth, when she looked into his eyes.

A pained growl rumbled from the RiverClan deputy, and he cast his gaze to the side. "I have a better memory than you might expect, Flurryshine." He had not witnessed the warrior casting her daughter aside in favor of saving Dewshine, but the news did not truly surprise him. There were only so many cats one had the power to save. Of course, Sunpaw had probably not seen things the same way. The flood had taken too much from them. "But I have not wished to judge you by your failures. Perhaps it was because I once saw a little of myself in you, I wanted to see you succeed." He paused, musing darkly over the words. "Looking back now, I suppose I was presumptuous to place hopes on you for such a reason. If even you give up on yourself, then there is nothing more I can do." There was a note of empty hopelessness in his voice. He was already close to his own limit. Yes—there were only so many cats one could save. What else was he supposed to do? Some other cat in the same situation might have figured out a different answer, but that cat was not Scorchclaw.

The fluffy tom drew a deep breath, and then stated in a low yet firm tone. "Flurryshine, I can no longer allow you to leave these two unburied. You have forsaken the wishes of the dying and desecrated the bodies of the dead. With the authority left to me by Jaystar, I make my decision. Gingerstripe and Dewshine will rest within the earth before sunset." The pain that wrenched his gut at that instant did not show itself in his cold expression. Simply knowing something had to be done did not make it hurt any less.

Well ... at least Flurryshine could say that she had given it her all to bring Dewshine and Gingerstripe back to RiverClan territory for them to be buried there. But she still failed; she hadn’t tried hard enough. At this point, however, she was just too tired to keep on going. She was no longer the beautiful, confident, prissy molly she had been born as. She was now just alive, a shallow life trapped inside a hollow shell full of despair and grief.

Perhaps ... this was for the better? A part of her stubbornly denied this, but she was just too tired.

Bowing her head solemnly, she sighed softly, submitting to fate. She was never meant to bring them back to RiverClan. It had always been an impossible pursuit right from the start. Dewshine and Gingerstripe would be buried here. Yet she would remain with them.

”I only wish to say two things to you, Scorchclaw....” she rasped, not looking up at him. It took too much energy to even lift her head at this point. ”First, please ... please tell Meadowpaw I love her so very much. And once you find Coldgaze, tell her that as well. Tell my sisters how much I care about them, and how sorry I am that I’ve had to do this. And secondly....” With a soft grunt, Flurryshine angled her head enough to strain her eyes to look up into his. She needed him to hear this second part. ”...please, Scorchclaw ... forgive me. Forgive me for all the wrongs I have done by every cat in this Clan. Forgive me for ... for causing the death of Mottledspark. It-It was an accident, but I had confronted him at the Gorge the day of Sootcloud’s death, and I swiped at his muzzle. I never touched him, but I caused him to flinch and topple over the edge. I didn’t mean it.... I promise I didn’t.... Please forgive me.... E-Even when I die and reawaken in the Dark Forest for my crimes ... just please forgive me, Scorchclaw....”

Flurryshine seemed to grow weaker with every second. She could barely even lift her head to look him in the eye. The once luxurious, glossy pelt had become dull and matted; what was once a pure white had been corrupted by dirt and grime into a dirty grey-brown. Lack of sleep and food had clearly taken their toll on the warrior. With a half-sigh, Scorchclaw took a step closer to her, sinking unto his haunches. "I will tell them." He grunted. "You have my word, Flurryshine." The revelation that she been the cause for Mottledspark's death caused his green eyes to widen. In a way, the tom's death now made more sense. There had never been any foxes (?), only Flurryshine. He opened and closed his mouth a few times, the words dying in the back of his throat. How was he to respond here? The first emotion he felt was anger. Caught up in her grief, the she-cat had dragged those around her down as well. She had done such a thing in the past, and she was doing something similar now. Her terrible selfishness had resulted in the loss of one young life. Her crime should not have been an easily forgivable one. Yet as he stared down her, he considered what he saw—a broken cat, pathetic and absolutely miserable. The hot anger in his chest slowly fizzled out. What was the point? "The one who died was Mottledspark." He growled, his gaze falling to his paws. "He will be the one to judge you. I am not the one you need to beg for forgiveness, for I have neither the right nor the power to forgive you in the stead of those you have wronged."

Flurryshine bowed her head to her deputy in submission. That was fair enough, she supposed. ”Okay. I’m ... I’m sorry I couldn’t make RiverClan stronger, Scorchclaw. Don’t ... Don’t let other cats blame you for my death, especially Coldgaze. You know she’ll try to shift blame to someone.” She looked back up at her deceased loved ones, and she felt her eyes begin to prick with emotion again. She didn’t want to do this ... but she no longer had a choice. ”I ... I-I’m ready to b-bury them now....”