There was no wind deep in the tunnels. The air was still, close, and confining, invisible chains on her lungs. There was no one here. No one for fox-lengths at the very least… but it felt like no one for miles. Miles. No one. No one else had ever existed or would ever exist. Except the darkness. Still. Close. Confining. And the earth, the fox-lengths upon fox-lengths of earth, dirt, stone above her head. Still. Close. Confining. She’d never been this deep in the tunnels before, the deepest one could get while remaining in the gorse circle, an island of safety amidst the danger. She was tempted to run off into the blackness, away from the light of safety, down, further, further, until the earth crushed her and the darkness swallowed her and she was no more.
But she wouldn’t.
She couldn’t.
The darkness had taken enough from WindClan.
Her father… and with a sob, she collapsed upon the ground, the grief bursting out of her like a contaminated spring. Tears wetted the ground, the only sound for miles. Miles. Why had he gone, why had StarClan taken him, why, why couldn’t she… wouldn’t she…
She let out a yowl, a caterwauling screech of loss and grief. The tunnels remained silent. They had seen this many times before. Again and again she cried out to the stars, cursing them for what they had done, what they had not done, what they could’ve, should’ve done, would’ve done if they cared. Smallbean… a cat she’d respected and grown fond of… snatched by Twolegs. Timberpaw… they’d argued. She’d avoided him. And… her father…
Why.
Why?
“STARCLAN WHY?!?” The tunnels absorbed the ear-splitting cry like it had never happened. The silence closed in more complete than ever before. She slumped to the ground, her muscles giving out. Something Thrushflight had said long ago occurred to her dull mind. She’d stepped on a thorn and was asking StarClan why, exactly, they’d made this happen.
You cannot blame StarClan for everything. Come. Let that be forgotten.
It wasn’t…their fault… not really…
It was hers.
Hers, for not seeking out her father. Hers, for for not following Smallbean. Hers, for not patching up her relationship with her brother.
While StarClan did nothing, she would do something. She would make sure nothing like this happened ever again. Ever again. Ever again.
She would be WindClan’s, forever and ever. She would stand for them. A healer. A counselor. A guard.
Henpaw rose to her paws and started the slow, winding path up. Grief still clung to her like a shroud, but underneath it, a flicker of hope, of purpose burned. She would not let it go out.
WindClan needed her.
