how to save a life

Rainstrike had been adjacent to death from the moment she entered the world. Marshkit, her brother, born without breath in his body. Weedpaw, Eaglepaw, Birchpaw, never even made it to warriorhood. Her mother was gone. She'd watched her father torn to shreds before her eyes, brutalized by the black and white shape that still haunted her dreams. There was no reason for her to mourn Dacedream. The dappled she-cat had died for an honorable purpose, had led the way for ThunderClan into redemption. Now they had to take it seriously. They had to understand.

This was the second time she'd returned home with a dead body. Somehow, though, this felt different. She couldn't pinpoint why, maybe it was the gravity of the situation with StarClan, maybe it was the storm of rage and grief she knew was coming as a result of Dacedream's demise, but this was... heavier. Yeah. Heavier. Not physically, of course... Dacedream weighed half what Mistwalker had, but... emotionally. Spiritually.

With the dead queen laid across her shoulders, her blood plastering their pale coats together, Rainstrike padded heavily into the camp. She was not injured, but she limped anyway, and she'd rolled in a patch of dirt to dishevel herself before taking the body. They were quite the sight, but if anyone was around to see, she paid them no mind. She stumbled into the center of the camp, lifted her head towards the Highrock, and yowled, "Oakstar!"

The warmth of the day had lulled Cherryblossom into a drowsy haze, letting the sun's rays warm her tan and white fur. She vaguely recalled Dacedream leaving the den that morning, her mother taking time to interact with her before leaving for the day. She'd gone on a quick hunt near Snakerocks, bringing back a few pieces of prey for her efforts, before coming back to enjoy the warmth at the height of the day. A quiet purr left her body and she slowly ran a paw over her ears.

Her stupor was broken when the sharp, metallic scent of blood permeated the camp, mixing with ThunderClan scent, and underlying the scent of... death. The little tabby scrambled to her paws as the thorn tunnel rustled as the injured cat returned.
What... Who? Who's hurt? Who's... dead?

Her heart sunk when Rainstrike shouldered her way through the tunnel with Dacedream on her shoulders. She watched in horror as the pale warrior staggered into the center of camp and yowled for Oakstar. Forcing her paws to move, she stood and approached Rainstrike, stopping a few tail lengths away when the scent of death overwhelmed her senses.
No... It can't be...

A lump grew in Cherryblossom's throat as she caught sight of the terrible wound that had almost certainly taken her mother's life, and she backed away a few paces, tears starting to fill her vision. She shook her head and forced herself to speak, her voice wavering and cracking with grief.
"What... what happened, Rainstrike? What happened to her?"

Cedarpaw has been resting when Rainstrike entered camp. The smell of blood invaded her nostrils, and the tabby rushed over to her mentor. ”Rainstrike, what happened?” she asked, drawing nearer. Cherryblossom seemed shocked. Taking a closer look at who it was, Cedarpaw’s heart stopped. Dacedream, a dear friend of Cedarpaw’s was, injured, most likely dead. Shocked, she looked at her mentor, wanting an explanation as to what happened. Was their a battle? If there was, Rainstrike must have fought hard. Her emerald eyes darted back and forth, confused and sad.

"No...."

The small whisper held more emotions than the longest rant, more depth than the deepest ocean, more sorrow than the grief of a hundred corpses. She stumbled from the apprentices den, dizzy, barley on her paws as she focused on the mangled, bloody, corpse of Dacedream. Her mentor. Her Clanmate. Her best friend. Ten million thoughts swirled in her head and suddenly an unnatural anger surged from her pelt, so unlike her.


She whirled on Rainstrike, hissing and snarling. "You! What did you do to her? First.. First Mistwalker and now.. now her!? Who... Who did this? Was it you!? I'LL RIP THEM TO SHREDS! I'LL LINE EVERY NEST HERE WITH THEIR PELT! I'LL... I'LL KILL THEM! Rainstrike, who was it?" She demanded, blue eyes blazing. Her eyes were so filled with fire, you might've felt the heat from it.

Then, as quickly as it came, it disappeared. She half stumbled, half fell over to Dacedream, tears flowing like the river by Sunningrocks. "Why.. W-why her..? I-... I-" What ever she wanted to say was broken off by an overcoming wave of sadness as tears choked out her words, mixing with the blood of Dacedream's pelt. She buried her muzzle in it, staining her white fur. Curling up as small as she could, looking barely more than a mouse next to the mass of fur on the she-cat, she lay there, scarcely moving, as if any movement would disturb the queen's peaceful slumber.

The only sign she was living was the rise of her flank as she sobbed.

Without Dacedream, I've nothing to live for. She was dawn, my evening, my night. My morning star an my setting moon. I've nothing without her.

The stench of blood and death reached the medicine cat where she sorted herbs in the den, and she whirled around to grab moss and cobwebs before hurrying out of the den. Emerging from the herbs, she was greeted by an all too familiar sight, Rainstrike stood in the middle of camp with a limp body on her back. The difference this time was that the only blood Mossbloom could scent was from the cat the warrior carried, and now had placed on the ground before calling to Oakstar, and the color of that cat's pelt. A soft gasp escaped her as she ran over, pressing her nose to the queen's throat. No..... No! She thought as she came across the killing blow, a bite mark that wept blood. Tears stained the face of the cat, the beloved queen of ThunderClan, Dacedream. What in StarClan had happened, to rip her away from her clan, her kits? She was not able to find a heartbeat, something she had known she wouldn't be able to do from the stench rolling off of the queen.... But she had to try. 


Cherryblossom and Stormpaw had already turned to Rainstrike, demanding answers, explanations. There was no need for Mossbloom to reiterate the same questions and demands, and as Stormpaw collapsed at Dacedream's side she placed her tail on the apprentice's shoulders. Grief was a horrid thing, and as Mossbloom turned to return to her den to replace the moss and cobwebs her heart broke for Houndheart and the kin that Dacedream had. Head lowered, she collected rosemary and quietly returned, settling near Stormpaw as she gently began to groom the queen's pelt, then rub the herb into the cleaned fur. Every now and then, her eyes would lift to Rainstrike's form, eyes narrowing slightly as she realized that the warrior carried no wounds - dirty and disheveled fur yes, but no wounds. Her ears remained trained on what Rainstrike would have to say, and her explanation.

Cherryblossom had hardly registered that Stormpaw had come up beside her until the apprentice had started wailing her grief to the world, an echo of the emotions what were surging through the little tan tabby. Suddenly the tears spilled over and began to stream down her face, and she staggered forward, pressing her face into the cooling fur of her mother. She was dimly aware of Stormpaw beside her, and she vowed internally to try to be as good a friend to her as Dacedream had. Cherryblossom tried vainly to breathe in the last scent of Dacedream, but her sobbing renewed when all she could taste was death, cold and unforgiving.
Dacedream... Mom... What am I going to do without you?

It had been weird for Jaypaw to wake up on his own. He was so used to his mother rousing him to go train, so used to waking to her loving voice, a gentle purr in his ear, that when he awoke near sunhigh on his own, he immediately felt like something was off. Why hadn't she woke him? Or at least told him beforehand that they were taking the day off training? He'd spent a few hours into the afternoon wandering around camp, waiting for her to return so they could go out hunting, or maybe even fishing! He'd been practicing his scoop, and was excited to show her. Eventually, he curled up in a patch of sunshine and took a nap, the beams warming his mottled fur.

This time, Jaypaw was woken by Stormpaw's screech, and he bolted upright, fur on end. "What?" He crouched, in preparation for battle. Were they being raided? Was there a badger? A fox? Cautiously, he slunk to the other side of camp, towards the entrance, and he'd have rather saw a hundred foxes than the truth.

Dacedream. His mother. His mentor. Dead.

His paws went numb, horror like ice washing through his veins, and Jaypaw froze. Voices... Stormpaw, Cherryblossom, Mossbloom, Cedarpaw, all drowned out as the sound of his own panicked breathing filled his ears. No. No. Tears pricked his eyes, the burning in his chest so fierce he couldn't speak, even if he wanted to. Unable to move forward, he sat - or, more, fell, back on his haunches, eyes staring, but glazed over with sorrow and disbelief.

He'd been practicing his scoop. And now she'd never get to see.

His head had shot up at the cry of his name. Oakstar swiftly leapt through the crowd of gathered cats. His broad shoulders helped him to wade through the onlookers until he saw her. For a second, he could barely process it. The tilt, the stench, the blood. His claws extended into the dirt as he clenched his jaw in sheer anger as he stalked forward. Dacedream.

Dead.

The growl that rose from his throat was unlike any he had ever done. It rolled through the camp like ominous thunder as his gaze ripped away from the dead she-cat to face Rainstrike face to face. The scents of cats and forest lingered on her pelt.
"Who did this?" He demanded. His dark brown hackles raised, but he forced himself to remain controlled. As much as he wanted to lay down and wail about how unfair it was… he had a job to do. He had to make sure his clan was safe. From whatever or whoever had taken her.

It came as no surprise that either her wail, or the lingering stench of blood and death, brought half the camp to her almost immediately. Rainstrike hunched her shoulders, half-crouching beside Dacedream's body as the first cat to approach, Cherryblossom, asked the question she knew would be repeated near-endlessly for the next several hours. What happened?

Cedarpaw, her own apprentice, was the next, and Rainstrike touched her tail to the small she-cat's shoulder in a comforting gesture. She would answer Cedarpaw's question. And Cherryblossom's. But she needed Oakstar here, first.

And then... Stormpaw.

The apprentice's words made Rainstrike's eyes widen, and for a moment her solemn facade was gone: pure, unbridled rage glistening within their frigid depths. Her hackles raised, and she whipped around to meet Stormpaw's snarl with one of her own, tail lashing angrily in challenge. How dare this insolent whelp even imply that she'd had anything to do with Mistwalker's death?! That she'd been the one to kill Dacedream?! Rainstrike's claws slid from their sheaths, a tremble wracking her from nose to tail with the effort it took not to rake them down Stormpaw's face. But then the tabby she-cat sank down, sobbing, into the queen's fur, and the moment of opportunity passed.

Another time, perhaps.

Mossbloom, and then Jaypaw made their appearances too, but both were, thankfully, quiet in their grief. Where was Oakstar?! There was no way he'd managed to sleep through this cacophony! Her eyes flitted back to his den at the sight of movement, and they followed him until he stood before her. Finally, she opened her mouth, voice quiet and soft. "It was StarClan," she told him. "StarClan killed Dacedream."

As her mentor rested her tail on Cedarpaw, she exhaled softly, confused and scared. She saw Stormpaw approach, then, to her shock, blame Rainstrike. Soon Oakstar approached. Cedarpaw’s hadn’t ever seen their leader like this. Then she heard it. How Dacedream was killed. Starclan killed her. Thd words echoed it her mind.

Daisypaw was sitting quietly, a little away. When Rainstrike told them how she died, Daisypaw was consumed with fear. She was supposed to be going on her Mioonstone in a few days! What if Starclan killed her? She wasn’t full Thunderclan! Nervously, she pawed at the ground, her eyes looking down.

Cherryblossom was... crying? Beepaw cocked his head gently to the side and followed the source of the sound, his heart choking in his chest when he saw most of the clan huddled around something on the ground. Rainstrike stood above them all, covered in blood that came from no particular gash or hole. Duskrain's voice sung in his mind: a beast's blood. Beepaw came closer, and the cries became louder. He could practically feel Oakstar's fury. What had this beast done?

Beepaw's mother came tearing around the bend, speeding past him so quickly that his long fur whipped around his face in response. Ferretnose came leaping past the crowd. "I want to see it for myself!" she both whispered and shouted. Beepaw drew backwards. Ferretnose never spoke like that. The half-blind warrior's eyes filled with water and pain right before his eyes. It was like Dovekit was dying all over again. "Rainstrike, dear, did you see it happen?" she asked, more frantically than the last time.

Beepaw came to Ferretnose's side, and he felt her paw swing around to tug him closer. He resisted it, rather forcefully, and put an adder's length between them. He peered over the crowd and finally saw Dacedream. Or, maybe, what was Dacedream, but was no longer her. He remembered the raccoon fight in a foggy haze. She was so strong, then. What could have brought her down like that?

"StarClan killed her."

"Wait, what?" Beepaw blurted out, entirely affronted by Rainstrike's words. "That doesn't make sense! How could they kill somebody from all the way up there? And why would they do it? Dacedream didn't do anything wrong!" He felt disgusted with himself as he stared down at her body. Everybody else was crying, but it was as if something was blocking his tears. His heartbeat pounded like the paws of one thousand warriors running into battle. Is everybody looking at me? Why does it feel like everybody is looking at me? Stop looking at me! Beepaw dug his claws into the top of his other forepaw. He looked forlornly at the ground. Dacedream... dead?

---

Ferretnose stared at her paw as her son ripped himself out from under it. Something in her chest squeezed, and she was fairly certain her heart was breaking. Rainstrike's proclamation was impossible for her to work her head around. Certainly, she must have seen wrong. RiverClan must have done this. Of course it wasn't StarClan. She felt dirty to question Rainstrike, who she knew to be quite plainspoken and sure of herself. So why was this the path of the stars.

Beepaw spoke with fury, burning bright like a falling star, before fizzling out into nothing. Ferretnose grimaced, because she had seen the look that came over her only tom before. It was a look that often infected his father, including Beartooth's permanent loss for words. Such traits were foreign to Beepaw... until now. Ferretnose feared she could not help him. She turned away. Helplessly, her good eye met Oakstar, and she sat beside Dacedream, who had been a queen alongside her. Their kits were kin, and so they were kin by proxy. Grief came with terrible weakness, and Ferretnose let her eyes shut as she mourned with her clan. "She was loyal to ThunderClan until her last day. Everything she ever did was in service to us. She had no secrets to hold. So what did she do wrong?"

Harefoot heard the yowling and screaming from the warriors' den, and alarmed, he exited to find the gathering crowd around Dacedream's body. He gasped, horrified, and came closer. The short explanation Rainstrike gave was terrible. StarClan? Killing living cats? Harefoot shuddered, then found Cedarpaw and Beepaw in the crowd. His son pushed away from Ferretnose, causing the tom no small amount of pain. He wanted his family to be able to turn to each other during a tragedy, not pull apart. He nuzzled Ferretnose softly and sadly. Cedarpaw was clearly frightened, and so was Daisypaw. "Come on now, come here." He meowed quietly, beckoning the pair over into a warm embrace. "It'll be okay... we'll stick together. I promise." He glanced sideways at Beepaw. It would be hard to wrap tightly around all of them at once, but he didn't know what else to do. He didn't know what to say. Nothing could make this horrible loss any better.

Dawngaze halted near the fresh-kill pile. She watched Rainstrike enter with Dacedream's body. Dacedream's dead body. Revulsion immediately swelled up in her chest, as well as other uncomfortable emotions she'd pushed down after the death of her siblings. Her former apprentice had been lovely, kind, and unconditionally devoted to all of ThunderClan. She was a mother and a friend and it was not anywhere near her time to go.  An odd tension made her muscles bunch under her heavy tortoiseshell coat. StarClan killed Dacedream like they'd killed Lichenmask. StarClan hated half-bloods and clanhoppers. Would they not strike down everyone in their path, the way they'd done before? Dawngaze had even agreed with them. She felt starkly out of place as half-ShadowClan and half-RiverClan. But was the fault not with Oakstar for permitting their presence, instead of the warrior who'd been chased from her home? A deep, age-old pain pierced her heart and quickened her breathing, and Dawngaze did not approach the body. She couldn't look any longer. Anger welled up, too. She needed someone to blame. This had to be someone's fault, and it wasn't Dacedream or Rainstrike. Contempt filled her cold amber eyes as she watched Oakstar for his next move, still lurking silently away from the crowd.

StarClan did it? StarClan? The news rocked Mossbloom to her core as she paused, unable to continue grooming Dacedream's fur momentarily. What had the she-cat done? What could she possibly have done to deserve this? The answer came in the back of her head, a bitter whisper. Nothing. There was nothing the she-cat could have ever done to deserve this. This was Dacedream, after all, a gentle, kind, fun-loving queen that brought smiles to the faces of everyone around her, there's no way she could have ever done something to bring the wrath of their ancestors upon her.... Except.... Her jaw tightened as she bit down in an attempt to stop the hiss from escaping her lips. Except being born outside of ThunderClan. StarClan really was taking things this far.... Weren't they? How dare they spill the blood of a loyal cat, even if their loyalty was not simply a blood loyalty? Didn't proving it through moons of training and oaths and dedication mean more than a meager blood loyalty? StarClan had turned their backs on them like never before, and Mossbloom didn't have the answers, only questions and fearful wondering for what they would have in store for them next - and what she could do to stop it.

The sun pooled on Minkstream's fur, a drowsy feeling overtaking him in the new-leaf sunshine. It was one of those days that almost felt like green-leaf - a bee droning past through the ravine on its way to some flower, the whisper of the wind in still-budding leaves above, and the warm sunshine, like a melting puddle glowing on his fur. He stretched his paws, blinking as it warmed them. It was perfect.

Almost too perfect....

His ear twitched as a shuffling sound came from the centre of camp, followed by a light thud, like something falling.

That was when he smelled it.

Blood.

A tingle erupted along his spine, tearing him from drowsiness with a spike of sudden, terrible dread, his eyes snapping fully open as his head lifted, seeking out and finding the source of a sudden loud yowl for Oakstar. What- Rainstrike stood in the centre of camp, muddy and disheveled. But that wasn't what caught his eye. There was another, beside her, a blood-spattered body lying on the ground. Oh no. His eyes widened, muscles stiffening as cats poured from the dens around him. No no. Not again. There was too much blood to see who it was. Too much. The fur was too thick. There was no way he could know who that was. No.

His legs moved of their own accord, slipping under him and bringing him up. It was a dream, the hazy sunlight that had been so warm before turning it red with a hellish heat. A heat that couldn't melt the ice slowly creeping up through his paws. One hesitant step after another, the form lying on the ground coming closer. Who was that lying on the cold ground, her throat torn open? A dilute calico form flickered with another, fainter one, a pale ginger - her blue eyes closed forever. When had his paws stopped?

His throat had closed. Dace. He knew who that was. She wasn't here, she couldn't be. She'd just been at his warrior ceremony, just shown him around the territory, had just been alive, had just... just....

Blood.

No.

The scent of blood, all too familiar. The scent of blood, that reeked of death. A red splash on pale fur. Torn, red.

No.

An all too familiar feeling tore through his chest. The sound of a terrible crack heard only in his head, a horrible tearing as his heart collided with stone.

No!

The world constricted, the world drew inwards. Black started to come in thorns at the edge of his vision. He couldn’t move, his paws were frozen, frozen to the snow, frozen in the clearing below the willow tree, frozen on the lake shore, frozen on the cold stone of the mountains. Red on fur, a blossoming red, a heart-rending red. She had... She had just been alive. He’d just had his ceremony; she'd just been there. He’d just spoken with her the day before. This wasn’t... It couldn’t... It couldn’t be real.

It couldn’t.

Not... Not again.

No sound came from his maw, no part of him moved, the cold stone every part of him had become filled with an agony that quietly died to the ice creeping over his soul. Dace.... No tears, just this horrible frozen feeling. This terrible coldness. A soundless cry, howling inside of him. She'd shown him the territory, taught him its secrets, her and Bat, like his own sister. Welcomed him when he first came. Helped him understand. She had... she had....

Blood.

It was a red dawn rising over a sheet of ice. She was lying in snow, so cold, so cold. Fur still, breath gone, eyes closed. Howling snow, howling with the weight of the frosty chill of an endless blizzard - just snow, no horizon. Endlessly frozen. She was lying in blood, glistening blood - blood spilled from a messy red pelt onto the agonized form of an old she-cat - blood on a torn throat on cold ground - blood on a still form on the cold shore, no life left of a gentle spirit.

Blood on a broken body on the sharp rocks of a distant mountain, a cold mountain, a gale buffeting, pulling at his fur, pulling the lies from his pelt, ripping forth unwanted memories to be torn into with stone teeth.

Blood so red. So red. Red as tears.

His eyes opened as something brushed at his awareness. There were sounds, someone was speaking. A terrible void filled his eyes as they slowly turned to Rainstrike. StarClan. How could they have...? Why would they have...? Half-Clan. Code-breaker.


Something snapped. Something broke inside him. Yellow flashed before his eyes, something started to rise up - heat from the inside. Not warm, but hot, like a fever. A growl rumbled from his chest as he looked back down at Dacedream's body with all those gathered around it, mixing with the agony - a wordless snarl of rage ripping free of his maw as his claws leaped from their sheaths to dig into the ground.

"StarClan." The word spat from his tongue, like a curse. "They killed her. For what? Some stupid, pathetic grudge against Clan-hoppers?! She did nothing!" His voice rose, cracking just slightly on the last word before his throat constricted, ending with a wordless, soundless snarl as his tail lashed behind him, furrows torn into the ground under his claws. Oh, how he wished they were digging into the foxheart who had killed her. How he wished they had remained dead where they were meant to be, and not her.

Oakstar was quiet. Quiet as she made the announcement, quiet as the others around her hissed and gasped in surprise and disbelief, quiet as Strom - no, Minkstream as they were now calling him - bellowed his fury to the skies, to the leader, to her. Just... quiet, silent, unmoving.

Rainstrike narrowed her eyes, turning a shoulder to Oakstar and flaring her nostrils as Minkstream raged on. Her voice was cold and flat as she replied, ears pressed back against her skull and tail bushed behind her. "They killed her because she broke the warrior code," she spat. "Because despite what you all think, there are consequences for that. There have to be."

Her eyes moved back to Oakstar. "This is what happens when we ignore the warrior code. This is what happens when we turn our backs to StarClan. Dacedream didn't die for nothing. She died for us. To prove a point, to us. And we do her only dishonor by ignoring the sacrifice she made."