Gone, are the Glory Days {open}

It happened in the night, Harefoot grew sick and passed away with ease, a gentle air about him. When Ferretnose had gone to wake her mate, he was discovered sleeping - forever gone from the forest. The camp carried him out of the elder's den at sunrise, each member silent and solemn. Harefoot hadn't died early on in life, no. He'd lived a long, fulfilling story with two, wonderful mates, and kits who would strive to be just as great as him. Oftentimes the clan would whisper that Beartooth had guided him to StarClan... Pinefrost didn't know Beartooth, as he had died in the cold before the tom was born. But he had been the father of Beecloud and Cedarheart, and a lover to Ferretnose and Harefoot. The tom was described to be massive, protecting, and strong. And often the elders in the den would whisper that they'd seen his frame nudge the retired warrior awake, padding off into the stars with joy.

Mossbloom brought out nostalgic-smelling herbs, scents of rosemary filling the air. A chill swept through camp as the clan laid around Harefoot's body, whispering to him the memories they held. He'd led a good life, and left as a renowned and respected member of ThunderClan - things Pinefrost could only dream of. The sun hung sorrowfully in the air, not yet cresting the trees as dawn seemed to stretch on a little longer than usual. A chilly wind tugged at the mourner's coats, leaves whispering in the trees as they danced to the ground in brilliant hues of reds, yellows, and bronzes. Leaffall was Pinefrost's favorite season, but it had taken his father from him. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his head into the old tom's pelt, looking like a younger mirror image to Harefoot, wishing his father all the best as he made one final patrol - this time to StarClan.

This bone-chilling breeze was the very one that tempted Kitepaw to never leave the apprentice's den again. There was shelter, warmth, security. But circumstance and duty constantly drove her from complacent depths. Frigid currents threatened to fall her ears and clawed at his pelt. Short fur had been inherited from the elder that now lay stiff at the center of the clearing. Sympathy raked her chest. If she didn't know better, she might have further considered clawing together a nest to keep him warm. However, Harefoot didn't have much need for pandering to physical whims anymore. She swallowed back sand at the thought.

Loss had been something she hardly took a moment to contemplate in her short life thus far; it had never been applicable, or so palpable. Kitepaw stiffly padded her way to Pinefrost's side. Her gaze shone with surreal sadness at the sight of father and son, a bond that she would never wholly understand. It was devastating all the same. The pair shared the same blood that coursed through her veins, she was part of the legacy left behind by the deceased tom. A weight seemed to press on her shoulders, bringing her down to her belly as she studied Harefoot's fur. Memories of kithood came to the forefront of her mind. He'd been there, he'd guided her. Now she hoped her was being guided to whatever afterlife was out there for him, the most wonderful one, be it a Starclan or not.

After a moment, she gave in and pressed her nose into the pelt. Overwhelming herbs seemed to suffocate her nostrils and drown out what little of his scent remained. Such a strange thing it was, to embrace the pelt of kin and be greeted with a removed and lifeless cold. Kitepaw was a foreigner to such matters before this encounter. A staggering longing for the comfort of another being sent her coat pressing against Pinefrost's. Together they sat in silent mourning of their lost kin. As much as her paws longed to pull away and slink back into the depths of her nest, forget the reality of death, the apprentice found herself unable to budge. Eventually she sunk into some semblance of acceptance and understanding. She needed to be here even if every bit of her pelt screamed to run. Harefoot and Pinefrost alike deserved her presence, she owed them that much.

It was unfair that Ferretnose had just retired to the elder den to be with her mate, and not long after, he was gone. Cedarheart had never met Beartooth, but she knew that he had loved both of her parents. He was Beecloud’s father, and she hoped that they were happy together in Starclan. It felt as though everything was crumbling beneath her paws. Smudgepaw, Stormpaw, Smallbean, her siblings, and now Harefoot, how many more cats she loved would leave her? She spotted Pinefrost and Kitepaw, two of her kin that looked similar to the elder. She walked towards them, eyes glistening. She pressed her nose into her kind, sweet father, whispering a soft "I love you." before sitting back, pressing against her daughter and sweeping her tail around her.

Her heart ached with longing for all that she had lost, all that had left her. Looking up at the sky, she wondered what he was doing now, if he was truly in Starclan. One day, she would see him again. She would see all of them again. She sat silently, lost in her mind, reliving the bountiful memories she had of her late father. Stars, how she missed him already.

Ferretnose was utterly silent. When she had broken the news, she had been, too. She had not mewed a word since the night before, when she retired to Harefoot's side and murmured "G'night, dearest." After all, how could she find the words? She knew in her heart that the stiff, lukewarm body next to her held no life. His whiskers did not twitch when she nudged them. That was all she needed; that was all the clan needed. They all knew he was not strong enough to weather the cold. As with all things, they had not had enough time.

When Beartooth died, she had shrieked. She was a whirlwind, an angry Goddess, ready to tear a hole in the starlight and drag him back down. It was so different now. She could not bear to cry. It was a peculiar feeling, to be so overwhelmingly miserable, but to also be at peace. Her kits in StarClan could meet their other father. Beartooth and Harefoot were whole again. She was down on earth. But why? Ferretnose supposed she just had too much work to do. Too much strength to give. Too many stories yet to tell.

Beecloud laid down beside her, pressing his fur into Harefoot's scruff with eyes pressed tight. Like his father, he could not articulate his feelings worth a mouse. Thick globules of tears dripped endlessly from his eyes and nose, with a jaw pressed so tight he could shatter his own teeth. Ferretnose laid her little, stubby tail over his, which caused him to shudder, whimper, and bury his face deeper into Harefoot's.

All of her children were now present. She finally spoke, mostly to them, but loud enough for all who gathered near to hear her. "How quickly we forget," she whispered, ragged. "All the time we don't have. The great loves of my life are gone now. But we are still here. And as I look to you, my kits, I see them in your faces. You are every bit of us, mixed up into three. Your children, even, will have our eyes, or noses, or legs, or tails. They will train under StarClan and learn our ways, our traditions. And ThunderClan will always be. That is why our ancestors watch us. Our clan is who we are, and who we will always be. That is why we fight for it and die for it. It's not about blood or lineage, no, it's about clan. All the time I have left is for ThunderClan, as it has been since the day I was apprenticed. As it was for Harefoot, and as it was for Beartooth. I hope that, no matter which way the tree bows, we all fight for ThunderClan and the memory of our ancestors."

Ferretnose curled her body against Harefoot's. She would likely spend the whole afternoon in that same spot, until Dustcloud and Dappleleaf urged her up to help them bury his body. She knew the trail to Beartooth's final resting place, beside her lost kits. That is where he would go. Oakstar, Jaydream, Hazelpaw, Lynxtail, Dacedream, Pricklebush... they would all welcome him, she imagined. She didn't want to keep them waiting for too long.

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Beecloud finally lifted his head off of Harefoot's scruff, sitting back on his haunches as he digested his mother's words. He looked to his siblings with a sudden pulse of pride. Strong and ThunderClan were synonymous. That was true. There was something else in her words that troubled him, though, and filled him with a dark sense of anxiety. He was grossly aware of how little time he had left. Harefoot had seemed so young, in Beecloud's naive eyes. How long would it be until he was greying at the muzzle, and scars numbered his ears?

Among the grieving clan, a brown and red coat snagged on his gaze. So little time. Ferretnose had only gotten a mere moon or two with Harefoot. Warriors led dangerous lives, and Leafbare was coming soon. Though his heart was torn, he knew love when he felt it. Robinloft, we have so much to talk about. Do you feel it, too?

Nettlestar had not been personally close to Harefoot, but she had lost several family members over the course of her life, her father most recently, and so on a personal level she felt for the grief that the elder's remaining family members would have to endure. And, more importantly to her, she felt the death of any clanmate was a tragic thing, and that as leader, part of her duty was acknowledge that loss.

"Hello," she said, addressing the gathered mourners. Her voice was a bit stiff and impersonal, but she didn't know how else to be in a moment like this, really, at least with cats who were not among her closest friends or family members. "I just wanted to extend my condolences to you all-- I am very sorry for your loss,"

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Buzzardpaw was saddened over the loss of his grandfather, but he was even sadder still to see his mother in pain. He loved his mother, and the last thing he wanted was to see her hurt, especially after what had happened the night she had introduced him and his siblings to their father. She didn't deserve any of this, and he wanted her to know he would be there for her. He came up and around opposite to Kitepaw and pressed himself against his mother's side.

"I'm sorry, Mom," he murmured quietly as he continued to lean against her.