One Last Murky Day (closed)

Finchstar watched with curiosity as Murkpaw contemplated over his next move. It made the tom wonder if the apprentice had ever been given this kind of freedom. Either way, the leader didn't want to intrude on such a thing, and found it exhilarating as the dark apprentice gave out orders. It was almost a pass for Finchstar's brain. Something to follow, something to set his mind to. It didn't matter that the tom was only an apprentice, ranks had never concerned the orange and white tabby. The command was simple, and it was easy to mindlessly follow orders, not having to bathe himself in grief once more. And then they were off. Murkpaw ran through the grasses, tail streaming behind him. The wind was fierce and strong, blowing through Finchstar's ears as he followed on the side. Ravenpaw wasn't far behind, and they were running once more. Finchstar found he missed this feeling, in all its glory. The wind in his ears, the breeze lifting him into the sky. It was romantic, wonderful. An emotional state that the tabby did not want to explore longer than needed. It seemed any and all things that involved feelings these days could cast the leader back into grief. It was easier to stay on the flat side of things, still enjoying the whimsy, and yet not falling for it.

Murkpaw eventually caught up to their prey and brought the rabbit down with swift and excellent form. Finchstar purred thinking of how far the tom had come from that small grumpy kit in the nursery. WindClan would be proud. Ravenpaw and Finchstar caught up with Murkpaw, ryegrass swirling around them. A shadow fell over the three but the sun didn't seem to sink behind a cloud. With the usual explanation for sudden darkness striped away, Finchstar found himself strangely alert, ears swiveling to determine the source of the strange turn of the environment. Murkpaw noticed it first, however, and as he leaped to avoid the perpetrator, the leader wasn't so lucky. A badger, large and wide, black striped, strange on this moorland. His blunt claws seared gouges in Finchstar's pelt as wide as the gorge, and the tom rolled into the grass, fighting back shock. The situation was not expected nor was it convenient, but it could be changed. Mind still swirling with cotton, the leader rolled back onto his feet, hissing in pain as blood oozed from the new holes in his frame. The impact had hurt him worse however, as his senses were damped, dull against the figure of surprise. "Get back..." Finchstar rasped, whether it was for the badger or the apprentices was unknown. The beast's beady eyes flashed in the light, however its fangs were much more foreboding. One bite from those, and one would surely die. The cloud in Finchstar's senses didn't cease, and in the haze he ran at the thing, claws folding from his paws, locking onto the coarse fur of his enemy. It was rough and hard to rip, however the leader was growing desperate, and relied on sheer willpower to even the score. Blood was their currency, and the situation couldn't be resolved until one party or the other paid. Finchstar wasn't going to allow it to be them.

Finchstar used Front Paws Strike on Badger, dealing 19 damage and costing 25 stamina.

Finchstar:
HP: 95/120
SP: 275/300 (-25)

Badger:
HP: 101/120 (-19)
SP: 300/320

Ravenpaw wasn’t sure he wanted to eat something a monster had gotten its paws on—but, of course, that wasn’t the point. He gestured with his tail toward the side he was closest to. ”Got it.” If it ran toward him, he could probably get a claw in it before it disappeared into some tunnel or another, right? There was no time for doubt; he would deal with that only if it happened. They started toward the ridge slowly, almost unbearably so, and Ravenpaw realized what he’d been doing wrong all this time. His patience was reserved for other cats; he had none left for things like hunting and fighting. No wonder the rabbits always managed to outrun him, they could hear him before he’d even gotten within pouncing distance! He’d almost certainly learned that from—from his training. Smile faltering, he focused on Murkpaw, who was peering over the rise. It was obvious when Murkpaw saw the rabbit; Ravenpaw could guess as much from how abruptly Murkpaw’s head turned.

Beckoned by a flick of Murkpaw’s tail, Ravenpaw darted over the ridge and forward in a wide arc, ready cut off the rabbit’s escape should his friend fail. As he’d expected, his help was unneeded. Murkpaw gained on his prey; as the distance between them closed, Ravenpaw let himself slow down, preferring to observe in case there were any other rabbit-hunting tips to be had. Soon, a squeal rang across the moor. He was close enough to see the rabbit go still under Murkpaw’s jaws. Even the Thunderpath’s stink, strong enough to make his nose prickle, couldn’t stop Ravenpaw from breaking into a grin; it was hard not to, seeing that look on Murkpaw’s face. As far as Ravenpaw was concerned, this hunt was already a success. They’d set out to catch rabbits, after all. He opened his mouth to congratulate the older apprentice, then stopped short. Something smelled…wrong. He couldn’t put a paw on it, but—

A lump of fur appeared out of nowhere, hurtling directly toward Murkpaw. Before Ravenpaw’s warning shout left his throat, the beast had passed, leaving Murkpaw unbalanced but unharmed, which meant its target had to be— ”Finchstar!” he cried, horrified to see a wide paw slam into the leader. From this distance, he could tell what the beast was, though he’d only heard stories of them. There were only two dark, furry animals with such distinct facial markings, and this was far, far too big to be a raccoon. Badger, he thought, stomach dropping to his paws.

Instinct told him to run. The badger was terribly large and solid-looking in a way that reminded Ravenpaw too much of the dogs he’d fought on the shore, with glinting fangs and paws that looked as dense as stone. Worse, only Finchstar, Murkpaw, and himself were within yowling range if things went wrong. Already, the scent of blood seeped into his nose. He understood now that numbers alone didn’t win battles; he also understood that, if he ran, he would be leaving his Clanmates. Maybe Murkpaw was grumpy sometimes, maybe he wasn’t sure where he stood with Finchstar, but he wouldn’t lose either of them. Though his brand of reckless courage was all but useless here, it was the only thing he had.

Whether Finchstar’s words were meant for him and Murkpaw or the badger itself, Ravenpaw chose to ignore it. He charged past Murkpaw and slammed the full force of his unimpressive frame into the badger’s side. At less than half the badger’s weight, there was little he could do to alter its course from Finchstar. With a frustrated hiss, the dark apprentice sprang away, hopefully out of biting range.

Ravenpaw used Run-and-Tackle on Badger, dealing 6 (+3) damage and using 10 stamina.

Ravenpaw
20/20 HP
70/80 SP (-10)

Badger
92/120 HP (-9)
300/320 SP

Run. The thought echoed through Murkpaw's head as he half-crouched, hesitation freezing his paws. Finchbreeze was injured, the warning hiss that came out of his jaws just another thing telling him to leave. If they'd told him to, shouldn't he? After all, he was just a weak apprentice - there was no point getting himself killed. But an odd stubbornness was rising out of the depths of his skinny frame, making his claws unsheathe even as he stayed put, undecided.

A black blur raced past him, Ravenpaw's small frame crashing into the black and white creature as it snarled, the beast swinging its head around briefly, teeth glinting in the sun. The thing smelled terrible, its stench making him want to gag. His heartbeat began to pound, anger rising as he saw the look on both of his friends' faces as it turned back to Finchbreeze, its paw batting him away like a stick in floodwaters.

In that moment, he made his decision.

Throwing caution to the winds, he sprang forwards, paws pounding the grass once more. Before, they had flown across the ground to the pure joy of the winds, now they thundered to the hurricane of his wrath. Though perhaps wrath was too strong a word to use for his skinny, small frame hurtling like a prickled stick at the massive black and white form. But at that moment, he didn't care as his claws tore through the wiry fur of its back leg, flesh parting beneath them. Before it could respond, he had whipped away. Teeth bared and eyes blazing, he slid underneath, shredding its exposed belly with his claws

The beast let out a sharp roar of furious pain, teetering backwards on its already wounded leg as it desperately tried to regain its balance.

Murkpaw used Swift Strike + Belly Rake on Badger, causing 9 of damage and using 15 SP.

Badger used Heavy Blow on Finchstar again.

Murkpaw
HP: 20/20
SP: 65/80

Badger:
HP: 83/120
SP: 280/320

Finchstar:
HP: 70/120
SP: 275/300

In the haze of it all, Finchstar couldn't even muster enough drive to be bothered that the apprentices didn't run. Oh, what wonderful souls they had. But the leader's ears rang with his heartbeat as he feared for them. The blood that streaked down his pelt was a feeling. And the concern was a feeling too. It was something, something more than his grief, more than his constant state of dullness. And Ravenpaw and Murkpaw moved like the wind, bending and twisting as gracefully as heather in the breeze. Finchstar made a note to grant them the status of warriorhood soon. If not for their skill in battle, then for their bravery.

However the wild beast they fought was strong and vicious, and what he lacked in mobility, he made up for in sheer power. As Finchstar ran past for another swipe, the badger swung down with a heavy paw, slamming the orange patched tabby into the grass, his body rolling as if it was a leaf. The pain from the collision was far more serious than that of the scratches. While Finchstar's pelt was torn and bloody, his resolve was strong. He was feeling something, no matter how superficial, it served to pump new blood into his frame. And the leader felt a strong drive to protect those around him. Ravenpaw. Murkpaw. No cat would die today. That feeling was as clear as blue. Still reeling from the blow, Finchstar remained in the grass and rolled skillfully under the badger as it came in for another attack. Slicing through his soft underbelly, crimson sprayed the leader and left him looking wild and beast-like as he emerged, panting heavily, barely on his feet.

This was their chance, the apprentices needed to run. And Finchstar could distract their beast for long enough. This would be a good way to die. Perhaps the badger would take him to StarClan with Brookclover. The orange and white tabby would have no qualms with that. However no more lives would follow him. "Ravenpaw, Murkpaw, go!" He rasped, limping away from the badger before it made yet another blow.

Finchstar used Belly Rake on Badger, dealing 20 damage and costing 10 stamina.

Finchstar:
HP: 70/120
SP: 265/300 (-10)

Badger:
HP: 63/120 (-20)
SP: 280/320

As he bounded away from the badger’s crashing jaws, Murkpaw darted in to take his place, tearing into one of the badger’s hind legs. Ravenpaw hadn’t doubted for a moment that his denmate would fight, too. Over the course of his apprenticeship, he’d come to assume such bravery was the default. This wasn’t so different from his first—his only—battle. Difficult odds; a massive foe, outnumbered but powerful; a very, very real chance that one of them (or more, stars forbid) might not make it back to WindClan’s camp. Murkpaw’s participation brought renewed confidence. Adrenaline lit a fire in the black-furred tom’s paws, dulling his terror even as another blow sent Finchstar tumbling into the grass.

”Ravenpaw, Murkpaw, go!” The call pierced the fog in Ravenpaw’s head. He drew up short in his circle around the badger, looking toward Finchstar. The taller tom, more red than white now, was in tatters, yet he didn’t seem to be retreating toward camp despite the command he’d just issued. When the words sank in, fear broke through, just a bit. One cat, already hurt, couldn't stand against a badger. It didn't matter how many lives StarClan had given him; all it would take was a well-placed bite.

Well, whatever Finchstar wished, Ravenpaw wouldn’t leave him to be torn apart eight times over. This time, he would make a difference. He had to. He couldn’t sit vigil for his leader so soon after his mentor. ”We’re not going anywhere,” he hissed, driving his claws deep across the badger’s side as it stumbled on its injured leg. It was furious, and it was doomed. The three of them would ensure that. White paw tinged russet, Ravenpaw darted behind the beast. Attack, jump back, attack again. That strategy had served him well enough with the dogs; the badger, especially now that Murkpaw had wounded it, was slower than those had been.

Ravenpaw used Front Paw Strike on Badger, dealing 6 damage and using 10 stamina.

Ravenpaw
20/20 HP
60/80 SP (-10)

Badger
57/120 HP (-6)
280/320 SP

Murkpaw snarled in satisfaction as he rolled out from underneath the badger. In the time it took him to roll back to his paws, Finchbreeze had struck, and his rasping words cut through Murkpaw's anger in a flash. For a moment, he hesitated, crouching ready to spring, an odd anger rising beneath his pelt at the tom's words. Ravenpaw's counter stuck in his ears, and strangely, he found himself agreeing. The first time I risk my life for someone else's stupid tail and you tell me to leave? Sure, the tom had a thousand lives or whatever, but that didn't mean he could dictate how they used theirs. Burning beneath his pelt, the thought stuck in his mind like a burr, though it felt oddly freeing.

But even so, the tom was still right. They couldn't keep this up forever, and as soon as the badger decided to hit one of them again, they'd probably all die, thousand lives or not. It wasn't like they were doing much damage anyway. Though it's pelt was scored with slashes, the beast was still apparently well enough to crush them like bugs. As he twisted out of the way of one of its paws as it swatted at him, that much was obvious. There has to be some way of getting rid of this annoying thing before we all die. He leapt back as its jaws snapped at him. Apparently, it had decided to target him, though at least that was leaving Finchbreeze to get his breath back for a bit.

A target....

An idea flashed through his mind like a ray of sunshine through the clouds. The Thunderpath was just a few fox-lengths away, through the gathering of scattered bushes and trees that lined it. Through the pounding of blood in his ears, he could hear the distant rumble of a monster approaching. He twisted around behind the badger, wincing as one of its heavy claws caught him near the base of his tail. Rolling for a moment, he sprang back to his paws, wild gaze catching Ravenpaw and Finchbreeze. "Lead it to the Thunderpath! The monster will kill it!"

Not daring to see if they'd heard, he braced himself as the beast whirled around, flashing a paw towards its nose. Blood welled beneath his claws as they caught, and the massive black and white monster let out an oddly high-pitched yelp as it recoiled. Its eyes gleamed with rage as it rallied once again, its lips peeling apart in a jagged-toothed snarl of fury. Murkpaw didn't wait to see what happened next. Desperately, he leapt past it, paws pounding the grass as he dashed towards the black of the Thunderpath. Behind him - faster than he thought it would - lumbering feet shook the ground, thundering after him with a speed that belied its bulk. He could feel its putrid breath on his tail, but he then he was pulling ahead. He could make it to the other side before the badger even made it halfway if he was lucky. Stretching with all his might, he summoned every scrap of speed, his paws only a couple of tail-lengths away-

He tumbled as one of his rear paws caught on something, landing in a scrambling heap. A snarling roar came from behind him, and his vision steadied just enough to see a wide maw full of incredibly sharp teeth bearing down on him. Paws skidding in desperation, he threw himself to the side. So, instead of his head getting bitten off, jaws clamped down on his tail. Agony burst through him like stabbing thorns, a yowl ripping free of his throat even as he was pulled backwards and flung through the air. Air whooshed out of his lungs as he hit the ground, black spots dancing in his vision as he blinked back up, trying to see through the hazy red swimming across his eyes. It was there, turning towards him. And he couldn't move.

Murkpaw used Front Paw Strike on Badger, dealing 6 of damage and costing 10 SP

Badger used Iron Bite on Murkpaw, dealing 30 of damage and costing 20 SP. Murkpaw can no longer fight.

Murkpaw
HP: 0/20
SP: 55/80

Badger
HP: 51/120
SP: 260/320

(he can't use the battle system, at least ;)

Blood roared in Finchstar's ears, exhaustion racking his frame. The leader's heart thumped against his chest with every breath pulled in from adrenaline. Ravenpaw's determined words rang through his head as the black tom swooped in for another hit. While the speech was uplifting, Finchstar couldn't shake the sense of impending doom that clung to his fur. One hit, and the apprentices could be seriously hurt, or worse, killed. Murkpaw didn't seem to heed Finchstar's words easier, and the orange patched tabby wondered if it would be easier to admire their bravery than to fear for their safety. Stars, they fought like seasoned warriors. Fearlessly diving under the badger, twisting and jumping like stray gorse bushes. It was a beautiful site. But as Finchstar let his guard down to appreciate the skills, Murkpaw shouted his new plan.

The Thunderpath? The words jolted through Finchstar's mind, watching the brown tom scurry towards that black streak of rock. Monsters zoomed past in either direction, and while the idea was stunning in its form, the leader couldn't help but worry. It should be Finchstar driving the beast to its doom, not the windy apprentice with only one life and a future. "Watch your paws!" Finchstar shouted back, sprinting to the path to meet up with Murkpaw. Ravenpaw was close behind, and for a moment, they were perfect. Three toms fighting as warriors did. The blood on their pelts was their trophy, and they wore it well. He wondered if the world was watching this scene, this fight for life and death. If they all returned from this escapade it would certainly make a wonderful story. And oh, life. Finchstar found for a single moment his grief had hidden its face. The adrenaline pumping through him now swept his misgivings away and the tom ran with speed, loving the apprentices by his side.

Of course, it would return. Just as the badger slammed Murkpaw into the grass by his tail. No! The leader roared in his head, running to save the tom from further harm. Monsters zoomed by and blew their fur in different directions. They were so close now to the path, and as thrilling as it was to fight beside such a dangerous thing, Finchstar only cared for the apprentices' safety. Yowling fearsomely to draw the badger's attention, Finchstar launched himself up on his paws and slammed down hard on the badger's head as he turned, throwing the beast to the ground and rolling along with it. Quickly the leader swiped again before the badger could find its footing, drawing more blood from its terrible face.

Finchstar used Upright Lock on Badger, dealing 20 damage and costing 25 stamina.
Finchstar used Swift Strike on Badger, dealing 8 damage and costing 10 stamina.

Finchstar:
HP: 70/120
SP: 235/300 (-35)

Badger:
HP: 23/120 (-28)
SP: 260/320

When the badger finally looked away from Finchstar, its eyes settled not on Ravenpaw, but on Murkpaw, who dodged its next blow and the one after by what to Ravenpaw seemed less than a whisker’s length. The third time, its claws just grazed Murkpaw, though it was slight enough that Ravenpaw, barely stifling a shout, could pretend he had dropped into a roll out of reflex. Courage was crucial, but stamina mattered more; they were all getting tired. Ravenpaw was, at least, somewhere beneath the frantic drive to keep fighting.

How Murkpaw could plan anything with a badger swinging and snapping at him was unfathomable, yet his expression, as far as Ravenpaw could tell amidst the chaos and blood and fur, spoke of an idea. The Thunderpath! As Murkpaw said it, Ravenpaw’s own eyes brightened, cutting his exhaustion like a beam of sunlight. One of the Thunderpath’s monsters could do what the three of them couldn’t. They just needed to close the distance, make sure the badger followed, and…and they would be safe. All three of them.

“Safe” sounded awfully nice right now.

As the badger staggered, Ravenpaw ran for his life. Never had he moved so quickly or taken so little enjoyment in it. His world shrank to contain the three of them, the badger, and the monster’s rumbling, less distant by the second; even the wind wasn’t important enough to register. But he did see Murkpaw fall, and he watched the beast descend with all its fury. For a moment, it was no longer a badger but a pale dog, its jaws locked around a white cat’s neck—then it tossed the cat aside, and his tail was bleeding, not his head, and the cat was no RiverClanner but Murkpaw, StarClan, what was he doing? In a fight like this, a blink of hesitation could change the outcome. Ravenpaw turned—too late—the badger was already advancing, what could he do—

Then Finchstar was there. Ravenpaw gasped, stumbled, relief crashing through him. Sure, Finchstar was in danger again, but the badger’s attention had hopefully been diverted from Murkpaw, and Ravenpaw would do his best to divert it further until Murkpaw got up. He would get up. The Thunderpath, safety, victory: all were just ahead.

The plan had been to lure the badger across the Thunderpath. A more logical cat might have stayed the course, seeing it was the surest way out of this, seeing that Murkpaw had trusted him to continue and that time was limited. But that simply wasn't how Ravenpaw thought. Leaving a friend, even one under Finchstar’s protection, was not an option. Once more the small tom threw himself forward, diving below the beast’s jaws to slash its belly. His legs still shook when he rose, breathless, flecks of blood hidden in his fur, and spun to rejoin his companions.

Ravenpaw used Belly Rake on Badger, dealing 7 damage and using 10 stamina.

Ravenpaw
20/20 HP
50/80 SP (-10)

Badger
16/120 HP (-7)
260/320 SP

Murkpaw lay, sides heaving, darkness flashing across his eyes as he watched a ginger and white form slam into a black and white one. Spots flickered as agony flashed up and down his spine, stiffening the rest of his body and leaving him unable to move. It felt almost like the appendage had been ripped out of his body, but he could still feel it there, spikes of pain running through it like gorse thorns being pricked into his flesh.

He could see the badger, so close to the Thunderpath's edge, so near it needed only a couple more steps. The others were dealing with it, Finchbreeze and Ravenpaw slashing at it. But... it wasn't getting any closer. He blinked, struggling to think as it snarled desperately, blood oozing out of what seemed like a thousand different claw marks. Or was it oozing into blood? They weren't getting it any closer. It's... nearly finished.... Surely they could kill the stupid thing without a monster.

But at what cost?

As his cheek lay against the ground, a bit of rock poking against it, he could see the badger gathering itself for one last desperate move. He could see it, but only through some disconnected part of his brain. It was almost interesting to watch, how the badger bunched its muscles up, lips peeling back from its teeth in a ferocious but terrified snarl as Ravenpaw slid under its belly and shredded the flesh there with sharp claws. The black and white tom rose, his legs visibly wobbly to Murkpaw's suddenly intense senses as he moved to rejoin Finchbreeze. A mistake.

The badger, desperately looking for an opportunity to get rid of one of its opponents, whipped around with a speed Murkpaw had never seen from it yet. The move, so sudden in its violence, knocked the other apprentice to the ground as the badger gathered itself again. It began to rear up on its wounded hind legs, jaws opening-

Why should I stay? The thought had rung through his mind before, every reluctance to become involved in others' affairs wrapping around the words in his mind. Why had he stayed? Why hadn't he turned tail and run like he should have?

His view shifted, paws gripping the earth as they pushed him up, spiking pain ripping through him at the reckless movement. He ignored it, his muscles bunching together powerfully as he hurled himself forwards. Pain - he wasn't sure whether it was a part of him or he had become it. A red haze covered his eyes, and through it he saw the badger stretched to its full height. A vengeful snarl wrinkled its muzzle as sharp teeth glinted in the dim light beneath the trees. This was where he had entered the world.

Why hadn't he run? Why wasn't he running away now? Instead, his paws hurtled him towards the badger, its back to the Thunderpath. A rumble filled the air, shaking the very ground, the air. Shaking him. He leapt, springing at it just in the moment it prepared to come down. If it did, its jaws and paws would crush Ravenpaw, killing him almost instantly. Somewhere, deep inside him, Murkpaw knew he didn't want that to happen, and that he couldn't let it.

Why?

He crashed into it, barreling with all of his scrawny weight straight into its neck. The movement stumbled it backwards, its legs tottering onto the edge of the Thunderpath in the achingly slow heartbeats pounding through both their frames. Then its leg, already wounded, collapsed. Clinging to it in determination, Murkpaw lunged forwards, the small added bit of momentum sending them both sprawling hopelessly. His teeth rattled in his head. There was a huge hulking form barreling straight at them, but he didn't stop.

Why am I doing this?

Not bothering to scramble to his paws, he simply grabbed at the thrashing badger, yanking it with desperate strength further into the path of the hulking monster. Sudden thunderous noise split the air in two, a horrible sound that felt like it was breaking him apart. A heartbeat, two. He felt his jaws slip from the black and white pelt, automatically trying to crouch as it flashed towards them. But it felt like it was stuck in mud, like everything had suddenly become stuck in a single few heartbeats.

I know why. Yes, he did. He'd finally found something worth it. Something he actually liked. He'd found friends, family. In this one last moment, as he accepted the judgement of the hulking form racing at them, he knew he'd found something that wasn't stupid.

Love. I found love.

A flash. Red and bright light. Agony as something ripped over top of him. A scream lingered in the air from nearby, a rising pitch that went on and on but was cut off in an instant. Tumbling, he was tumbling under a rushing raging floodwater torrent of air. Everything was melting away into blackness, pain throbbing in bright colours as thoughts began to fade.

Yes. I think I'd like dying for this.


Truck ran over badger, dealing 1000 points of damage and deadening it. Badger has died a very gory death.

Badger
HP: 0/120
SP: 0/320

Murkpaw
HP: 0/20
SP: 0/80

There were few souls that rode the wind with a brave spirit such as the apprentices before him. Finchstar had been convinced of that most of his life, and yet had come to know that there were in fact many. While the tom did not actively search them as he had done before Brookclover's death, still their presence made him smile. Ravenpaw fought well, all the history carried with him flashing in those claws. And Murkpaw had recovered from the fall, thankfully. Strange, that the leader should find solace amidst the battle, and yet grief was a funny thing. It had loosened its hold on his heart for this moment, enough to watch the badger loom over Ravenpaw. It provided enough clarity to gasp, even, an act associated with emotions Finchstar didn't think he still possessed. And fear was quite a shock as well. Not fear for himself, but a fiery fear for Murkpaw as the dark tabby twisted to save his fellow friend. A fight near the Thunderpath was a dance with danger. Perhaps the choice in atmosphere added a sense of romantic story to the scene. Tales would spread like the beast's stripes. They would burn as brightly as the monster's eyes as it roared over the black rocky path.

However the splatters of blood fell more brilliantly than even the tales Finchstar could muster. Ravenpaw sat living, the leader sat wounded. And Murkpaw sat a hero. Time stopped once more, Finchstar knew this feeling. It had scared him at first when Brookclover halted the very sun in the sky. He had been confused then, a teary tom unwilling to admit the inevitable. But the act of facing reality and accepting it for what it was; held other fears. The blood that pooled from the beast mixed with Murkpaw's wonderful pelt as the leader pulled him from the path, ears ringing. He did not smell the stench of the monster. He did not hear the grass rustle, nor did he care that his white chest now shined with crimson. This was shock. This was denial. But Finchstar had lived in his pit for so long, he had sat in his sorrow and became close with it. Rain touched his fur just as it did his clanmates'. But it didn't make it any easier. The gasp of air came first, and all the senses rushed back to him like a waterfall. The blood. Cobwebs. Aspenpaw.

Finchstar turned toward Ravenpaw and wanted to tell the black tom to run back to camp, to get help. And yet Murkpaw's eyes, however gloomy, shone with something more profound than his wounds. This cat would die. Something ethereal sat in those orbs, the same sparkle Brookclover's eyes held as she ruled StarClan from above. He was going somewhere beyond the moor. Murkpaw's last adventure in life, was only the end of the beginning. And yet it didn't stop the tears from falling from Finchstar's temples. It didn't stop the leader from, curling around the tom and whispering little nothings. The passing was never easy, and yet the leader wondered if it ever could be. It would take such a wonderous life to ascend to death in a peaceful way. But Murkpaw sat blanketed in blood, a sacrifice to another. The sun shone on his face, those dying eyes catching the light one last time. Finchstar choked and saw the peace there, through the chaos, through the crimson. A final breath, a goodbye. "I pray you can smile, friend. Wherever the wind takes you." Finchstar's voice was sorrowful as he sucked in a shaky breath. His first friend in the nursery, now gone to fate. Life was not cruel, but it did not have favorites. Finchstar looked into the sky and vowed to watch the stars tonight, wanting to wear the life lost as a second pelt. Protection from the grief that was to come. A badge for the heroic act from Murkpaw the Honorable.

Two steps. That was as far as he got. Something slammed into his side, swept him off his feet entirely, and he hit the ground with a ringing thud and a yelp that he assumed had come from himself, though he didn’t remember moving his mouth. Then the pain registered. It was the same dull pain the Twoleg’s flying stones had left, only across his entire side rather than in two tiny spots. His limbs refused to obey him. He was immobilized, watching the world shift back into focus. But the battle would not stop for him. This was a fight to the death.

As the sky went dark, Ravenpaw had the presence of mind to think, Oh. Then, Brookclover’s gonna be mad. At the badger, maybe. At him for never receiving his warrior name after she’d spent so much time training him. He thought of her, of his parents, and it seemed so inevitable that, when he stared into the badger’s mouth, he almost didn’t mind.

The beast descended. Ravenpaw choked on a breath. And Murkpaw charged.

Unfathomably, miraculously, his weight was enough to knock the badger off course and onto the edge of the Thunderpath. Its leg gave way, and it collapsed onto the blacktop. With the strength of a cat four times his size, Murkpaw grabbed hold of it, and somehow, incredibly, it moved. No. Rolling onto his side, Ravenpaw tried to push himself up. No! He got three paws underneath him; that was enough; he staggered forward and raised his head just in time to see the monster tear across the Thunderpath.

With the monster’s thunder and the badger’s roars gone, the air felt empty despite the stench that hung throughout it. In the eerie stillness, Finchstar dragged Murkpaw to safety, leaving the badger in the path of whatever monster came along next; it deserved no better. Blood spilled onto the grass. As Finchstar turned toward him, Ravenpaw did not meet his eyes. Murkpaw couldn’t be saved. No one so grievously injured could be. Aspenpaw was a medicine cat, not a miracle worker. The threat was gone, yet they had lost. It wasn’t a victory unless all three of them could celebrate it.

Though he longed to press his ear to Murkpaw’s chest, the dark-furred tom only crept close enough to see the fading light in his friend’s eyes. Acceptance. Like Brookclover. That broke him every bit as much as the sight of Murkpaw's ruined frame. It seemed unfair that none of the blood in his fur was his own. That he’d thrown himself at the badger so many times, that this hunt had been his idea, but Murkpaw was the one who—Murkpaw was— ”I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice was shaking apart, but he remembered Finchstar, and he fought the tears back with the last of his willpower, however fiercely the world blurred. His claws pierced the earth where he stood. There were other things, please don’t die and it’s my fault and why would you do that, useless things Ravenpaw would never give voice to; the last question, terrible as it was, already had an answer. He would have done the same for Murkpaw. He should have.

Darkness reigned, but somehow there was still a murky light to it, one that refused to disappear no matter how numb his skin or how foggy his mind felt. Distantly, sounds began to whisper in his ears again, and a sensation pricked at his pelt, quickly blossoming into a roaring pain so bad he could barely feel it. Everything was distant, but so close. Despite the agony crawling across his body - the blurred sensations running together above him - he felt an odd peace. Now was his time. There wasn't much left.

His mind drifted as he floated in between wakefulness and something else, barely aware of the sensation of his body being dragged. He was a little kit curled at some cat's belly again, her smell wafting over him and encasing him in warmth. A purr rumbled through his small body as the sensation of her tongue brushed against his head, the wet smoothing his soft ear fur. It spoke words with a love that had been foreign to him for most of his life, mewing a single word softly with an air of pride - something that reminded him of the wind brushing past leaves. Warmth surrounded him, the branches of the bush above encasing him like a protective father.

Sounds whispered in his ears again. M-ma? One eye opened, a blurred kaleidoscope of colours coalescing gradually in somewhat recognizable shapes. An orange-and-white tom above him, face turned to the sky as grief coloured his expression, the sun above him casting a bright halo around his head. The eye roved to the side as the other opened halfway, spotting a black tom with a white chin, his eyes downcast and more blurred than Murkpaw's own currently hazy sight could account for. A breath rattled through his lungs, bringing spiking pain with it. Stupid... pain. He blinked his eye, opening it again to focus back on them, a bare whisper passing his muzzle, "Where... is it?"

A scent brushed past his nose, a familiar one he had somehow never forgotten, and he turned his head towards it. The movement drove a spike of agony through him, and he fluttered somewhere between waking and unconsciousness for a second before forcing the blackness crowding his vision away. Stupid.... Not yet. Something more... to do.... A shining ribbon of light seemed to point nearby, at the roots of an ancient tree stretching towards the sky and the light far above. He was born here. Somewhere.... near. He stared at it, feeling an unusual strength come into his limbs as he tried to will his broken body towards it. Was that... determination? But no matter how hard he tried to move, his stupid limbs didn't work.

Frustration bubbling up in his throat, he rolled his eyes back towards the others, locking them onto Finchpaw's own. He was a kit again, locked in the nursery, alone and longing for a place he couldn't remember. "Bush...."

Bush. The first thing Murkpaw - then Murkkit had spoken to Finchstar all those moons ago. It was the last word that left his maw on the black terrain, slipping from his whiskers just as the blood soaked into Finchstar's paws. The world seemed slow but he wasn't as naïve as he once was. There was no tugging on the dark tabby's pelt, no pleading with him to awake. He had seen the light die from Brookclover's eyes before, just as Murkpaw now faded away before him. Their fur brushed and the tom knew he didn't want to feel sad any longer. It seemed inevitable as those he loved crumpled around him, but the leader could only hope that the pain would cease as his heart stretched in loneliness. Another sob racked his frame as he said goodbye to his nursery-friend. The tunnel to peace was long, treacherous, and a glance back to Ravenpaw was not even dared. Strength was easy to carry until circumstances changed. Finchstar thought himself a brave cat and yet felt crushed under the ever-heavy weight of death, It was the familiarity that startled the tom. Not the blood that coated Murkpaw's pelt, nor the lack of light in his eyes. But the fact that Finchstar had seen and witnessed death before, now beginning to wear it as something of a title. Numb, weary. His lack of reaction only seemed to further solidify itself in the tom's heart. How should he ever recover if his own stubbornness lost to a world filled with decrepit sadness? Staring blankly at Murkpaw, Finchstar pulled back his maw once more and pushed a groan through his teeth, begging to feel something, anything. The tears were only those of shock, and the longing pulled him ever deeper into the dark. Finchstar would not be crushed by this new weight, as it was only adding to the pile. Ever his enemy, and ever his cause. WindClan would sit vigil tonight. And Finchstar would watch the stars as yet another soul fell victim to the fate he once challenged.

Having fallen silent, Ravenpaw had no choice but to hear Murkpaw’s whisper. Despite how quiet they were, the words rumbled through him like as a monster’s roars. Through the fog, they took some time to decipher. ”Where…is it?” By then, Murkpaw was turning his head, so clearly searching for something that a dull ember of hope glimmered in Ravenpaw’s chest. The determination in Murkpaw’s muddy hazel eyes was unmistakable. There were a thousand possibilities, none of them truly helpful, yet for the briefest instant Ravenpaw was convinced that whatever Murkpaw wanted might save him.

”Bush…”

Reality brought its claws down. It had been a foolish hope, really. Still, the thing Murkpaw was looking for must have been important if he was thinking of it now, and so Ravenpaw, latching on to the only good he could do, turned toward the Thunderpath. He knew the plant life here as well as any other patch of moorland. Clusters of heather and grasses, a tree with gnarled roots. However desperately he stared, none of it stuck out to him. When he risked a look in Finchstar’s direction, there was only grief in the leader’s eyes. No answers. No clues. I don’t know what you’re looking for. He couldn’t let those be the last words Murkpaw heard from him. Ravenpaw closed his eyes and said nothing.

A tune to listen to as Murk fades away

He could feel himself fading. Murkpaw desperately looked up into his friend's face, searching for anything beyond the grief in his eyes. Failing to find it, he looked up at Ravenpaw, but the tom closed his eyes, hopelessness etched into his features. Stupid-! He gritted his teeth, feeling lances of pain shoot across his jaw and down his neck. With a gargantuan effort, he lifted a broken forepaw - blood staining the fur dull crimson - and brought it down, feebly clawing himself towards the tree. He could feel something beginning to slip away from him, the pain dulling as he fought to bring himself towards the prickled bush at the old tree's base, barely a couple of tail-lengths away. Locking his eyes on it, he let out a choking, weak cry of frustration that was more of a moan, a request for help his rock-headed friends would hopefully understand.

Slowly, achingly, his body moved closer, the scent growing as he inched towards it. Finally, something brushed his muzzle, a small prickle adding to the pain swamping his body, but barely making an impression. A slow breath escaped his muzzle as he opened his eyes, suddenly finding the strength to curl his body around until its leaves were brushing his back and side comfortably. He could feel it fading, the world slipping away like peaceful sleep coming to take him away. Memories of a she-cat, her tongue stroking his fur as her purr rumbled deep inside his chest came here, and he knew he was ready.

But not quite yet.

Somehow still clinging on, he blinked up at Finchstar, a smile spreading over his muzzle as his mind flew back to a day the tom had found him in the nursery. "...You... remember... my bush?" Blood bubbled up from his lips, his faltering heart beating erratically even as it swelled with pride. "Here... bush. Mine."

He could feel his eyes beginning to close, his heart slowing. In his mind he shook his head, barely managing a weak movement outside of it. Stupid. Not now. He had better things to say than boast about his bush, more things he needed to say. "I... never had a... friend," He whispered, his eyes flicking from Finchstar to Ravenpaw, his voice almost fading as the airy feeling beginning to fill his limbs tightened its grip. A genuine smile stretched up his maw, too weak to turn into a grin, but more than his face had ever held. He blinked at them both.

"You... my friends. Thank... you."

With a sigh, the blurred faces in front of him began to fade, slipping out of his vision as his eyes drifted shut, murky yellow vanishing forever as its light burned out. Pain faded, the last burning agony softly sliding free of his pelt as it relaxed, one last soft half-breath moving his chest before it flew free with the wind curling softly around his body, a faint voice calling him, warm as honey, golden as the dawn had been. For one moment, he hung in-between the two worlds - one softly dark and comforting, dancing with tree shadows and laden with the familiar scent of his bush beneath the tree roots, the other golden and floating above him, a glowing sun awaiting him to step into its light. He glanced back for a second, noting the tears on Finchstar's blood-spattered face, and Ravenpaw's own shocked, slightly distant grief.

A smile passed his maw, a whisper passing through the wind stroking his pelt to them, a whisper of comfort from him and the glowing, indistinct figure beside him, her tail resting gently on his shoulders. He turned, stepping forwards into the glowing light, his body flowing with the wind, free with the breeze. Glowing warmth encased him, and he embraced it.