When the Laughter Fades (closed)

Downtuft had spent an abundance of time in the nursery as of late, tending to Sagewillow's every beck and call (except for when she told him to leave her alone). During his time however, he'd noticed one lone kit, whom was always by herself. He recalled Shyfawn explaining that her name was Sandkit, and she was a former loner. She'd watched her mother die.

Downtuft could vividly imagine the agony the kit must've felt. He'd lost all of his family, too. Even worse, he'd watch Softbreeze slip into insanity. He'd watched her tear herself apart, and he'd even watched her collapse so far that in a last ditch effort, the sanity she had left had formed an imaginary friend for her. Whisperthistle. After Softbreeze had began talking to the air as if it were alive, Downtuft had quickly picked up on what had happened. Grief had driven Softbreeze's sanity to a breaking point.

He'd seen Shyfawn's mind deteriorate. Names she could recall perfectly before all blending together. He'd seen Goldengale's cold body hit the sandy clearing floor. Even now, he could still perfectly picture the exact spot her body had fallen. He'd seen Raventail cry, and then return dead, grief driven into recklessness. He'd seen Dappleshine beg for mercy, blinded and killed for a crime none had committed. He'd seen Softbreeze wither away in despair.

He'd seen Finchstar fight and fall in the name of love. He'd seen Clovertwist's heart twist and break with each loss, until he followed the wind and left. He'd seen Grousefrost struggle day by day as life silently passed the deaf tom by. He'd seen Olivestar rise and fall, never once wavering in her loyalty to her Clan. He'd seen Morningdove become a Martyr, and then rise from the dead. He'd seen Softbreeze rise and fall and get back up again.

He'd seen StarClan betray them, and he'd seen StarClan save them. He'd seen life and death and the in between. He'd seen Smallbean struggle silently in bitter resentment, before growing to love the art of healing. He'd seen Barleytuft love, and love, and die. He'd seen Graybriar give her all for her kits, and he'd seen her die for her steadfast loyalty to WindClan. He'd seen Violetpaw's kind heart, and her crushed body after the monster. He'd seen Spotlake's motherly love and the sorrow of losing her kits. He'd seen Softbreeze. Her passion, and love, and her death.

Downtuft had seen a lot of death. And so when his eyes landed on little Sandkit, he couldn't help but approach. "You all alone too, huh, kit?"

Sandkit sat alone, hunched beside the nursery, one of The Moor Cats– no, WindClan's, she mentally correctly, few dens. It was still weird, adjusting to this new name and new home. But she'd manage. For her mom. During her roughly moon here in.. WindClan.. she'd learned some basics about the members of the Clan.

First off was Daystar, who was like the mom of the Clan. Her word was enough to make any cat stop what they were doing, and they both loved and respected her. Phen couldn't help but agree. Miss Daystar was kind to her, and helped her keep the bugs away from her Mama.

Then there was Goldenfang. If Miss Daystar was the Clan mom, then Goldenfang was the big sister. She worked side by side with Daystar, yet didn't have the same air of authority. That didn't mean she wasn't respected, oh no, that was quite the opposite! Even little Phen could see the admiration in other cat's eyes when they looked at Goldenfang.

Then there was Hentooth. The dad of the Clan. Well, figuratively. Hentooth worked day and night to protect her Clan, much like a father would. At least, Phen assumed. Her papa had left them so she didn't really know. Either way, Hentooth was strong and dedicated to WindClan, and would much rather die than let anything hurt them.

Other names floated about, ones she could barely remember. There was Sunpaw, Sunnyskip, and Ryesnap. They were always said with sad and sorrowful tones. Phen could sense it; they were dead. Then there was Brookthistle, Muddyleap, Silverlight, Ashfall, and Hayglow, said with pity. The one she assumed was Brookthistle looked angry a lot. There was Sagewillow's Kits, always whispered in a hopeful tone, the promise of new life. There was Dawnhawk and Nightwind, always said with either bitter, remorseful, or angry tones.

And then there were Sagewillow, Shyfawn, and Spotlake, the kind she-cats who (mostly) dwelled in the nursery. Although.. Shyfawn had went to join Mama, one of the other kits, Ivykit, maybe? Had told her. The queen was dead. Spotlake spent a lot of time in the nursery, but still did warrior things, and then Sagewillow was pregnant.

Then there was him. The ginger tom who visited the nursery often. His eyes were sad, even more so when Shyfawn died. All the Clan Cats seemed sad when she died but the ginger tom was heartbroken. Phen knew the feeling. That was his Mama. She didn't know why he'd looked so sad before her death, though. Carried away by her thoughts, the approach of said ginger tom caught her off guard.

"What's it to you if I am?" she retorted, eyeing the larger feline cautiously through dark hazel eyes. Her pink nose wrinkled as she stared up at him, lips crinkled. "I don't need your pity, so you can take it and shove it in the dung." Phen hissed. Even having lived here for a moon, she still felt guarded. A small voice inside her head whispered, and she flinched. "Sorry.." The diluted kit mumbled, gaze downcast. Mama wouldn't want her to be mean. "It wasn't very nice of me to say that."