Mourning a beast. (Open, Beartooth's death)

As if mocking the reeling in his head, the chattering of kits behind him caused his ears to twitch irritably. How could Beartooth be having more kits? It was the last thing he had ever possibly imagined to happen, and to find out now of all times. Houndheart wanted to yowl at the skies. He longed to scream at any cat who spoke. But all hit did for a moment was stare, with his sides heaving from his previous outburst. What Oakstar's kits were saying was lost to him, all he knew was that he longed for it to stop. Houndheart longed for silence, both inside and out. His claws dug further and further into the earth until he thought that they would leave his paws. There was nowhere else that those sharp talons could go but it was the only way he found in the moment to keep himself from falling over. His gaze darted from Ferretnose to Oakstar and then back to Beartooth's still body. The fact that his brain expected it to move made him sick.

The churning sensations were made worse by the fact he could not tell whether or not it was better that the deputy was dead when neither option seemed like something that could still this indecision. Before he could bring himself to yowl out once more, he was looking into twin pools of deep green light. A paw lowered his head so he could look straight into them. There was a growl of surprise but as he recognized Mossbloom, the warrior found himself exhaling a deep breath that he had not realized he was holding. Everything seemed to die away as he stared at her. The medicine cat spoke, her displeasure obvious in her voice. He didn't care that she was angry with him beyond the pang of guilt that settled in his stomach at knowing she was unhappy. Houndheart found himself simply grateful that she was there. There was great truth to her words that he did not quite catch with his own twisted sense of anguish that was building up inside.

As she pulled away, he found himself calmer than a moment before. With his head even an ounce clearer, the tom was able to pull away from the scene. He looked over all of them once more, and grumbled softly as he stalked away to the side of the clearing. Houndheart wouldn't mourn over the body but somewhere inside, the small kit, covered in blood and shivering out in the territory, whimpered pathetically for the thing it had lost.

Duskpaw's green eyes flickered as the chatter of ThunderClan echoed around her. Beartooth was having kits. He had made his trade, and Ferretnose wouldn't be lonely. The apprentice let her gaze drift to Leopardkit as his snap turned heads. Oakstar spoke a brief exchange, and the three smaller pelts found their way to the nursery. They did not understand the wind. The wind was not justice, nor was it honorable. The wind did not discriminate by heart. The wind was balance. The wind was fair. Duskpaw watched quietly from her corner as Houndheart pulled away from Mossbloom. The clan seemed to move and shift around her, dealing with feelings that the she-cat would never know. She was the wind, and she had killed Beartooth. It maddened her curiosity to think that Duskpaw would never be able to grasp the emotions of the pelts by her side. She did not understand Beartooth, but she had spilled his blood. She observed his pelt and the heaviness in his voice and for that reason, they shared a bond. Not one of mutual understanding, but of the trade. That was the language Duskpaw spoke in, the rest was foreign to her. The mourning, the grief. Even Dacedream and Houndheart seemed distant. But she was not afraid. Duskpaw did not fear loneliness, it was inevitable if she was to see the world. Slowly, the she-cat padded to Beartooth's side and licked his cheek softly. There was nothing to say, as his ears did not work. But he was still soft.

Houndheart's voice drew Harefoot from the warriors' den, sounding offended and angered enough to pull the older warrior from his gentle sleep. The brown tom glanced out of the den, still a little hazy from his rest, before his green eyes settled on the forms in the center of the camp. There was Oakstar, Mossbloom, some kits and apprentices... and Ferretnose, her beautiful, strong form pressed close to Beartooth on the ground. "No... no. It can't be. It isn't!" He took a hesitant step forward, unwilling to believe what he was seeing. Harefoot's green eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. Another paw reached forward to take a stuttering step, barely registering the cold ice underfoot. As he grew closer, the image became clearer: Beartooth was really dead. His body was lifeless, moving only by Ferretnose's sobs and shakes. It was his worst nightmare - no, second worst. He collapsed by Beartooth's free side, his long, lanky legs splayed out in whatever direction they landed in. "I don't understand... I don't... what happened? Why is he dead?" Harefoot's voice cracked, a gasping sob breaking his words, and tears pooled in his eyes. It wasn't fair, or right, or possible. Beartooth didn't deserve this. Ferretnose and Harefoot didn't deserve this. He looked up at Oakstar, and then to Mossbloom, worldessly begging for an explanation.

Dawngaze stayed to the side of the clearing. It was surreal to see Beartooth's large body empty and lifeless next to Oakstar and Ferretnose. Harefoot joined shortly. The trio had only been recently joined together, and were so quickly torn apart. But the she-cat didn't really care for their feelings. It was almost pathetic - or so she would have thought if the aching pain of loss hadn't wracked her so much in her life. The bitter wounds she carried from the loss of her family were not much different from the ones that would now mar Beartooth's mates. As for Dawngaze, her relationship with Beartooth had been... difficult to understand. She hated him for his perceived indifference to her training, and yet respected him for his power as deputy and his power in battle. He was, by all means, the perfect warrior. But he was unable to express any sort of emotion to cats outside his family and alienated himself even to those he cared about. She didn't know how he felt about her. She only knew that she didn't mourn his death, instead feeling an icy apathy as she stared at his corpse. Dawngaze noticed Dacedream's confusion, and she moved to the new warrior's side. Their long pelts brushed softly against one another, but the striped tortoiseshell said nothing. She only stared emptily at the body of her former mentor.

All the commotion around her was muffled and underwater. She heard many voices, all crying out to StarClan. There was one tiny kit, indignant to the last, but quickly shot down by his father. And of course, Houndheart, a rather overgrown kit, making a fool of himself. She hardly blamed him. Death was hard. How could she dare to dictate how he coped with the fall of his father, even if he did despise the cat?

Mossbloom warmed her pelt, sitting close by and forming a furry barrier between her and the rest of the clan. Ferretnose took comfort in knowing that she would not let anybody break her silent vigil. No one would disturb her under her medicine cat's watch. She wished she had told Oakstar of the pregnancy sooner. Maybe then, it wouldn't have hurt her clan so much. And, oh, the way Harefoot's voice broke her heart. She recoiled when he collapsed at her side, for fear that he might reject her comfort entirely. She lifted her head only to place it on her surviving love's shoulder. Ferretnose sniffled and laid a tender, gentle lick on Harefoot's ear. "He was so tired," she whispered. "The snow must have been so soft... Beartooth never knew when to take a break. He didn't know how much they cared... What are we going to do without him?" Her body begged to be held, comforted, loved, and attended to, but it sickened her. She hated herself for it. How could she think about herself with Beartooth gone from the world?

Back turned and face hidden, Leopardkit's tiny claws dug into the tightly packed moss that separated him from the earth, every vein in his body pulsing with heated fury as he listened to Stormpaw echoing Oakstar's stern words; snitch.  Dad told me to tell her...is she just trying to look good in my family's eyes?  After all, she's not really their kit...  The young tom's shoulders suddenly stiffened, as if shocked by his own thoughts.  Remaining silent as his older sister left, Dustcloud's unsteady meows reminding him horribly of his father's uncharacteristic outburst in the clearing, and as a familiar warm tail embraced his cold, tense body, Leopardkit felt himself melt.  Pressing his head against his mother's scarred yet soft belly, he closed his eyes and listened to her voice, the sound of his shortened name welcoming, calming.  She wasn't mad at him.  Curling up so that his tail was almost touching his nose, he mumbled; "I only said the truth Mama...it's sad that he's gone though."  He barely registered Coniferkit's return, allowing himself to drift away into his mind.

The warriors always say that the strong are the ones who lead.  Oakstar is the strongest, so he's the leader and got nine lives from StarClan.  Leopardstar before him, and Blizzardstar before him... Beartooth was supposed to be next, but he wasn't strong.  Not like Dad, not like Leopardstar, and not like me.  I'll never fall asleep in the snow, and I'll never back down from a fight!  I'll leave a legacy that can't be forgotten or dishonored by any cat, not even by nature itself!

I'll be the best out of all of them someday, just you watch ThunderClan!

Echofrost watched evrything from a distance. He had never really known Beartooth, but was sad to see one of ThunderClan's strongest Warriors, their deputy, gone. Some cats were sad, some mad, and some just plane rude. He scowled at Leapordkit when he insulted Beartooth, in front of his dead body. How could someone named after Leapordstar be so different from the great leader he had known? Everything just added to his growing depression, building up until it felt unbearable.

Echofrost walked to the warriors den, laying down in his nest. Why... Why was he sill alive, when everyone he had ever loved... Everyone who had ever loved him, was dead. The only reason he hadn't given up on life his clan, and the slim hope that maybe some day, he could love and be loved again. Echofrost pushed that thought away, though. Everyone he loved died. Why put anyone else at risk? Maybe he should just end it all... All this pain and suffering... Was it worth it? Was it worth how he just faded into the background, no matter how hard he tried? No mater what Echofrost did, he always seemed to be looked over. Forgotten. He almost laughed in spite at himself. If I died, I bet that anyone who came across my body wouldn't even bring it back to camp. They'd just bury me where I laid, and no one would notice anything different. No one would care. As Echofrost thought those thoughts, he descended deeper and deeper. Before he even knew it, he was full out sobbing alone in the darkness of the warriors den as he finally accepted the truth. He said it out loud, barely a whisper. "No one cares about me."