Will o' the Wisps [closed/solo]

Marshcloud rolled restlessly around in his nest, squeezing his eyes shut. He had been trying to fall asleep for-- who knows how long now-- to no success.

He sighed and sat up a little, giving up trying to sleep, and just stared off into the distance, his thoughts running at a mile a minute. This was how he spent most of his time, letting his thoughts speed up and speed up until he finally crashed into brief, weak sleep.

Most of the time, he felt like he had both too much and too little energy all at once. And that was the problem, the exact problem. Because he had this energy fueling him, always, never dying down, and he couldn’t sleep because of it. And because he couldn’t sleep, he was tired.

Though life itself was becoming more and more “normal” with each passing day, Marshcloud had never recovered from the dark place he had plunged down into during all the turmoil of the recent past. He still felt like everything was off. He couldn’t bounce back from that long build-up of things feeling as though they were about to fall apart. That feeling of his values being under assault by a force that was so, so beyond his control. Seeing so much senseless death and violence.

It wasn’t his first brush with the ugly side of the world, but it was the worst time, from his point of view. As a young apprentice, when he and some of his clanmates had been forced into exile, he’d seen struggles. During the fight with SkyClan, he’d seen plenty of death. Maybe it was just that this most recent event was the last straw, the thing that finally broke through his positivity. The thing that made it finally seem like the death, the struggles, the ugliness would never really go away, even when their causes had subsided.

His optimism had been broken down, bit by bit. It wasn’t gone. It couldn’t be; he would cling to it until his last breath. That’s who he was. But it had been whittled down into this little kernel, this little ball of tightly wound emotion and energy inside him that kept springing around his head and keeping him awake, night after night. His optimism and innocence had always been at once his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. It was just…more that now.

Sometimes he’d stumble through his daily routine-- waking up, eating, going on patrols-- half-awake and half-asleep, not really sure sometimes if the things he was seeing or hearing were part of reality or just images that had leaked in from the dreams he hadn’t fully been able to have the night before. Just silly little will-o-the-wisps.

But he’d been carrying on. As best as he could, he’d been carrying on. Putting up a weak smile. Trying his best not to be angry, or upset, or anything negative. He was trying his best, and usually failing. But he would never stop trying, at least, not while that last spark of idealism was firing off in his brain, fueling him through the night, keeping him awake and awake and awake.

H-h-h-h-h--e--

Marshcloud’s head jolted fully up. What was that noise? It sounded a little bit like a sound he’d thought he’d heard once before in the forest, but it was much louder and clearer now.

-e-e-e-e--

It was a voice, someone’s voice, drawn into a long, painful cry. He looked around at the other sleeping figures in the den. The cry was loud enough that it should’ve woken them. Was no one else hearing this?

e-l-l-l-l-ppp-!

Help? Someone was calling for help! Where were they? And why wasn’t anyone waking up?  He couldn’t be the only one hearing this! He got up and poked his head out of the den to see if anyone else had woken up and was looking around for the source of the voice.

But no one was. Was everyone ignoring it on purpose? No, that didn’t make sense, did it?

Maybe I’m hearing things. He thought.

Help! Please help!

The sound was clearer now. And even more urgent.

I can’t take the risk, though-- what if someone’s in trouble? And no one else is hearing this-- only me! I’m the only one who can help, then

Marshcloud was suddenly assailed by the memory of how during the battle with the Righteous Few, he’d wanted nothing more than to run and hide.

He’d always wanted to help others. To be a hero. Here was his chance to prove that he was one! That he wasn’t a coward. That that had just been a fleeting thought created by a chaotic battlefield.

That spark of idealism that had been flickering unhappily in the center of his chest began to flare up again, burning through his sleep-deprived mind, and despite the blurry, tired fog that was hanging over him, he began to quietly make his way out of camp.

Help! Help! Help!

Marshcloud began walking in the direction of the voice. Wherever that was.

He’d been walking and walking and walking, and the voice never seemed to get any closer or farther away. If he’d been thinking about it, he would’ve realized how odd that was. That he’d been able to hear something that was apparently so distant. But logical thinking never really was Marshcloud’s strong suit. Even back when he’d been sleeping properly.

He’d somehow wandered all the way to part of the Thunderpath. Who knew where exactly-- the voice had switched its specific direction a few times, and he’d wandered aimlessly after it.

And as he approached the path, that’s when he saw it. In the distance, the vague outline of figures fighting on the other side. There it was-- the source of the calls.

I should head back. Something in the back of his mind said Don’t chase after it. Go back and try to sleep. It’s all just been a figment of your imagination, a side-effect of one too many sleepless nights.

But that something was at the very, very back of his mind, and he sprang onto the path without giving it another thought. Someone was in trouble, and it was up to him to save them! He could be the hero again. He could save someone and do some good. Good was still out there to be done.

As he flew across the path, two blinding spots of light came roaring into view. There was a brief, unequal collision of bodies. And then the lights went roaring off into the distance, disappearing as quickly as they’d appeared.

I’m sorry I couldn’t help you, whoever you are, Marshcloud thought as the world crashed into darkness around him. But at least I tried. At least…At least…..I tried….

And on the other side of the path was nothing but the cold night air.