Despairing Darkness {OPEN!}

Eyes dark, fur ungroomed, once soft paws padded outside of the camp. The sun had barely begun to rise, just a little slit rising above the horizon. But it was enough light. Cream fur now appeared more gray, and where the white used to be was no longer visible, lost among newly found ruffled and messy fur. Blue eyes rimmed by.. White, was it? Pale ginger and gray? It was impossible to tell. Their sky hues seemed almost fifty shades darker. Her paws felt numb. But so did the rest of her, so what did it matter? She needed to do something. She needed to be useful. Aspenheart needed rest, so she may as well go herb gathering. Not that she'd find much of anything in this bitter weather. The best she'd find were shriveled up lungwort or crinkled mallow leaves. If she were lucky. Then again, when was she ever lucky? Leaf-bare clutched the moors and forest in their icy grip and StarClan could do nothing for it.

StarClan.

The reason she couldn't sleep, why she felt restless. That fiery light. It terrified her. Without realizing it, she whimpered, a tear falling onto the frozen ground. Aspenheart jumping on top of her without hesitation. A sharp intake of unsteady breath could be heard. Thornstar and Torrentstar. StarClan's fury. Collect herbs. Burdock. Chickweed. Daisy. Paracress. Tormentil. That's what she needed to do. Run her thoughts away. Without realizing it, she broke into a sprint, not stopping until she realized she'd arrived at Fourtrees. Shaking with the sudden rush of her memories, she turned and ran even faster onto the moor. Pausing by Lookout Rock, she began to inspect the cracks for chickweed. Three tiny sprouts had survived the patch of nearly ten. Sighing, she plucked two, leaving one to grow and replenish the stocks.

It was after sun-high when she saw camp again. She'd been gone all morning, and all she had to show for it was a singular burdock root, two tiny chickweed sprouts, a pitifully small red-yellow paracress flower, two tiny, thin yellow flowers of tormentil, and an almost completely shriveled up daisy, just barely possessing any healing properties, all wrapped in a dock leaf. Her pelt clung against her small frame and her ribs showed noticeably. Her gait was unsteady, eyesight becoming blurry. Where was she? She was in WindClan camp, wasn't she? Aspenheart would be happy, wouldn't he? She'd brought him herbs. He must be proud to be her mentor. Head reeling, she gave into the intoxicating feeling of closing her eyes and everything went black.

A ginger head spotted her and grinned. The tom hadn't seen the she-cat in a while, she'd always been missing whenever he'd looked for her. Tail waving he stood up, preparing to greet her, when he noticed the state of her pelt. What in StarClan name..? Was that his sister? His Softpaw? The ginger tabby shook his head, his dash of white fluffing up in denial. That couldn't be his precious sister, the one who could make the stars shine with her laugh, the one who loved so openly and so wholly. This wasn't her. This cat in front of him looked broken, haunted. As if they hadn't slept in nearly a moon. As if.. As if they'd overworked and starved themselves since the gathering...

Too late, he dashed over to the fragile, unsteady she-cat's side. A quiet thump on the ground lead to a bloodcurdling screech. "SOFTPAW! You hare-brain, get up! Get up, get up!" Voice breaking, he wailed to the stars, a piteous, awful screeching. She'd been such a fool. WindClan needed her, he needed her. Downpaw allowed himself weakness as he pressed against her side, whimpering, relieved to find the faint beat of her heart, the one that he loved so dearly. Aspenheart and Barleytuft would come. They would make her feel better. Right?

Briarthorn was walking back to camp with a rabbit dangling in his jaws when he heard it. He dropped his catch as a bloodcurdling scream sent shivers up his entire body. He searched around for the source of it, and spotted a young apprentice low to the ground. "Whats going on?!" Briarthorn yowled as he ran over to the young tom. Seeing the small she-cat on the ground, his concern increased. That was the new Medicine Cat Apprentice. Why did she look like that? "What happened to her?!" He demanded, picking up the frail she-cat and swinging her onto his back. He began walking towards the medicine den. "We need to get her to Aspenheart. Tell him what you know." Once inside, he gently put the young she-cat down. "Aspenheart! Your apprentice is hurt!"

Aspenheart lapped at his stained and cracked pawpads. He had treated more anxiety and paranoia in the past quarter-moon than he had ever in his life, and on top of it all, he was wheezing and coughing with some kind of mucus. It couldn't be whitecough, but it still made his chest rattle like he was full of twigs. He had a cause for the rest of WindClan's symptoms, if not his own. StarClan's message was strong and clear. Though the knowledge that WindClan would supposedly suffer the worst was privy only to himself and Finchstar, he felt like the rest of the clan already knew. It took a boneheaded cat to not notice the way the rest of the forest talked about wishy-washy, roguish WindClan. Their own deputy was a shining example of their liberal grasp on the Warrior Code. Of course, Aspenheart didn't really care. Raventail was loyal and devoted, and Dappleshine had embraced her new life willingly. They were shining examples of the good that can sometimes come from disobedience.

Of course, sometimes it didn't work out that way. Briarthorn's shrill cry alerted him to an emergency. He scrambled to his paws and hobbled over to Softpaw and Downpaw. The first emotion that bubbled up was fear. He pressed his paws to her chest, feeling out her breathing and heartbeat, before swiping a sheathed paw across her ear. When it flicked reflexively, he was sure that she was okay. Anger began to bubble up in his chest. Alright, maybe it was misplaced anger, but he didn't much care. With gritted teeth, he looked at the grey and white warrior who had helped carry his apprentice into camp. "You know your way around," he murmured cautiously. "Please get her burnet, chamomile, and ragweed. Downpaw, please get me freshkill." With a cutting look of warning, Aspenheart waited for both toms to leave on their missions before leaning down to Softpaw's ear.

"Come on," he whispered, nudging her cheek. "You're fine. Open your eyes. You're in camp." Unsure of what to do and at his wit's end, Aspenheart struggled to find softness. It was like he was a young tom again, disenchanted with the way of the world. They always said he was too abrasive. "What is it with you kitten-fluff apprentices and overdoing it? Is that what this is? Why didn't you just tell me you needed a break?"

Downpaw hesitated. How could he leave her, if only for a second? He'd thought she could take care of herself. She was a medicine cat-to-be, why wouldn't she be able to? He was wrong. He should have protected her. He should have noticed, should have stopped her. Why hadn't he noticed? As kits, they'd practically been inseparable, and almost telepathic with one another. How had their bond been severed so easily? When he was a kit, if anyone had told him he'd not realize Softpaw's odd behavior, he would have laughed at them, not taking them seriously. Now he knew just how fragile life was. He'd never been scared like this before. Not when they were attacked by an eagle, not during the chaotic gathering. For once, he was actually afraid.

And the tom didn't like that. At Aspenheart's look, he realized the sense in providing Softpaw food for when she woke and dashed away to the fresh-kill pile, looking for the plumpest thing there.

The cat wasn't sure what happened. It was dark, and she heard voices, but they sounded like they were underwater. How odd. Yet soothing. Part of her wanted to drift off further, into a peaceful bliss only total and complete darkness could bring. However, at the sound of a clear voice, her mind snapped together. Weakly, one blue eye opened to a squint, and she took a shaky breath. "Asp..enheart.. I..I brought-.. you her..bs.." She whispered, meekly smiling to the tom. "I just.. I wanted to help.." She murmured. She tried to keep her eyes open until she could stand it no more. Her eyelids were heavy, and when she stopped fighting, they dropped immediately. Sleep would find it's way to her eventually, and now, as the force of her own neglect weighed down on her, she felt contented.

She would sleep nicely until it was time to wake up again.

Briarthorn instantly went to the herb store. Burnet, chamomile, ragweed... He got the burnet first, searching through the plants for the strange almost spiky looking leaves. Finding them, he then searched for the white peatles of the chamomile. Finally, Briarthorn picked up the thin fern-looking leaves, carfull not to crush the dried plants. Carefully placing them down at Aspenheart's feet, he looked to the Medicine Cat. "Here, Aspenheart." It would seem that his knowledge had not dimmed, and they could still be useful.