How to Fill a Vacancy {closed}

Night slowly approached while the sun began to sink in the sky, day diminishing into evening which would, in time, turn into dusk and then eventually dark; the day had been long and full of life and circumstance. One new member had been added to their numbers officially (Puddlepaw), another had changed their path (Briarpaw), and a third had received their apprentice name (Loonpaw). WindClan hadn't really grown except with the addition of Puddleplaw, yet it felt a little bigger and a little older with the new changes. Barleytuft had been honored with the role of becoming Loonpaw's mentor earlier in the day. The decision had come as a surprise, as Finchstar had not yet spoken to him directly since the day that Brookclover died, but it was in no way unwelcome. He loved being a mentor, as one might expect.

Barleytuft had grown so much in mentoring both Brookclover and Gingerpaw, who still seemed to feel as though she wasn't ready to receive her name. Part of him feared that perhaps he wasn't a good enough teacher for Gingerpaw, and her hesitance was a result of him not teaching quickly enough or being more "efficient", as Grousefrost would say. Receiving the third apprentice of his warriorhood, the WindClan tom had a faint glimmer of hope that the new she-cat, Loonpaw, would learn and advance quickly, proving that it was only Gingerpaw's timid nature that had caused her to train slowly. It would make sense, but insecurities tugged at Barleytuft nonetheless. He had greeted his apprentice with as much warmth as he could muster, and they only chatted for a moment before he nudged her to go off and find a nest in her new place in the apprentice's den. Training could wait until the next day; she had a few adjustments to make before then after all.

After all the meetings the Clan had dispersed and Barleytuft had returned to the nursery to share the news with his kits. Soon it would be their turns, but he didn't want to think of that - not then. Graybriar, too, had received an apprentice, for she would soon be well enough after kitting to return to her warrior duties. Who better to train a former SkyClan cat than a former SkyClan cat? He was delighted to know Puddlepaw would be welcomed into Clan life by someone who understood part of what she had experienced, and Graybriar seemed pleased - if a little tired. She still needed a little time to rest. Barleytuft had brought her and their kits a piece of fresh-kill and chatted for another short while before returning to the clearing, leaving them to rest. By then evening had come, a pale, watery light casting long shadows across the camp while the sun still had enough light to shine down.

Barleytuft took a deep breath and sat, glancing around camp. The bustle had certainly slowed, the ceremonies all drawn to acceptable conclusions, hunting patrols had all returned and dispersed; now a few cats sat here and there, sharing tongues or eating quietly by themselves or catching the last warm rays of light before Silverpelt appeared above. The pale tabby tom closed his eyes and turned his face to the sun, deciding to do the same. He couldn't wait for Graybriar to return to sleeping beside him. Not long now - though her return meant the aging of their children, as well. He missed when they would sit in the sunset together and catch as much light as they could.

A voice spoke, coming closer, and Barleytuft blinked his eyes open, startled by source they landed upon. There Finchstar stood, practically all gold and fire in the light of sunset, looking almost tentative and afraid as he approached despite his profound authority over his own warrior. Barleytuft's tail flicked away from his body, sweeping wide over the grass in a subtle movement of welcome. The leader started with a brief moment of small talk, but after a deep breath and a long, low sigh, he seemed to resign himself to the topic which they had long avoided. Barleytuft couldn't steel himself for the words, though he had expected something about what they would be if they did eventually come. 

"I am truly sorry for my absence this past moon..." Finchstar began again. If he had stopped there, Barleytuft wouldn't have known what to say. He was sorry, too; he could have approached first, yet he did not. It was too late for that. "All of our hearts were shattered in her vacancy," the leader added, and Barleytuft clenched his jaw just slightly at the thought of her death without even having to mention her name, the flashing memory of dragging her out of the mud, "but I'm meant to lead those hearts... and I let them down."

Barleytuft's head shook just slightly, but he stared without responding to a distant corner of camp, his dark eyes shadowed with thought. Oh, how to respond... The quiet stretched between them for a moment before he finally said, "Everything in the whole moor was a let-down once she was gone." Neither of them would say she had been killed. "Running was a... a chore. Some days it was like I'd never run before and would never run again. All the prey tasted so bland, and it was no longer what I remembered. It felt like all the rain was all I deserved - like it was the only thing that could possibly be right. I felt as heavy on the outside as I did on the inside." His voice choked on the last words, squeaking in pitch, and he cleared his throat and fell silent for a moment, looking at the ground and trying to will away the tears that had formed at the corners of his eyes.

He took another breath and continued, "The weather started clearing, and the moor started drying, and the sun got warmer, and the world moved on. It could have left me behind, if I had let it - if my Clanmates had let it. But they didn't. They helped carry me when I couldn't carry myself." Barleytuft turned his head back to Finchstar now, and his hazel eyes were glinting with a gentle concern above all else. "The world could have left you behind if you had let it. Your Clanmates could have helped you. I... could have helped you. Why did you walk the darkness alone?"