death of a king [open for thunderclan]

Stoatstar was utterly overwhelmed by everything that had happened lately. Between the dark forest, and Cinderflame, and Softfall... he couldn't take it anymore. He collapsed into a sad pile in the middle of camp. He thought little of what other cats would think, for he was content to just be a lump.

Comfreypaw couldn't help but notice a cat collapse in the middle of camp. Her paws darted for the fallen clanmate, eyes trying to figure out who it was. "Stoat.. Stoatstar?" she asked herself. He looked sad. She felt sad. Before thinking, the apprentice laid down next to him, against him. Neck to neck, back to back. Her soft, medium-length fur against his tired short fur. She didn't know what to say, but she hoped he found this comforting enough.

Mottlerose had appeared not soon after the leader collapsed in a pile. A comforting purr rumbled from the mother's throat, and she settled down beside him. Exhaustion was something she knew all too well, especially when it came to the small tom. A gentle, comforting nose was pressed against his shoulder, and she would keep silence as well. A protective vigil.

At Stoatstar's figure laid down— right in the center of the camp, Fawnpaw frowned. Comfreypaw was right next to him soon after, and she quickly followed behind, slowly setting herself beside Stoatstar. Mottlerose was there, too, and she'd help them keep comfort for a while, exchanging glances to her clanmates.

Her presence was quietly noted as she lingered near the apprentice den; wondering if perhaps the molly could slip in for a nap in between patrols and other duties she owed the clan. Recent events had left her drained, and Thistlepaw wanted nothing more than to sleep for a moon- a sentiment clearly echoed by her mentor, as the tom lumbered in and collapsed in the centre of the clearing. The molly cocked her head to the side, moving closer to Mottlerose with curiosity in her gaze, former amounts of distrust toward the clan beginning to fade. "Is he okay?" Thistlepaw asked quietly, almost afraid of disturbing the growing pile of cats.

Darkpaw had just tossed a quail onto the freshkill pile, sparing Stoatstar only a passing dirty look. He should feel awful. He wasn't getting any cuddle puddle from him. Darkpaw wasn't much of a cuddler anyway. He looked back to the forest and picked up his paws to leave again...

Someone grabbed him by the scruff and dragged him into the pile though. His eyes flashed dangerously for just a moment before more cats piled onto Stoatstar and him. At that moment, and he would never admit this out loud, he realized how much he might have needed a hug too.

Comfreypaw felt better the more cats joined. Soon it was enough for one to call it a pile. She felt strong and connected. Cats coming together to support their leader and eachother. That's Thunderclan. But one clanmate didn't seem too keen on cuddling. Comfreypaw removed herself from the pile for a brief moment. "Darkpaw! And I thought I was the buzzkill, she teased before grasping her brother by the scruff and dragging him back into the fun. He could grump all he wanted, but she would hug him till someone popped.

One moment, he was alone, the next, it seemed like half of the clan was there. Stoatstar wanted to protest but in this state he could not bring himself to. Underneath the weight of his clanmates and between such a small creature, the little brown and white leader felt himself being pressed into the earth. By the time that Comfreypaw had returned with Darkpaw - it seemed there was no hope for air.

It seemed that this was how he would go, squished to death underneath a pile of his clanmates.

Stoatstar is dead from cuddles. He was loved to death.