so this is the outcome [s]

Wisteriabloom was done with all this foxdung.

She had narrowly avoided living through the rise and fall of the Righteous Few, but had been raised on kit-tales of it. Even after all of that, there were still many in the clan who whole-heartedly believed and trusted in Starclan. Wisteriabloom had never been too sure. Her meeting with Applefang all those seasons ago had been insightful, but not in high-and-mighty revelation sort of of way. Any living cat who knew Streamtail well enough could have told her that, but unfortunately at the time, no living cat did. Looking back at that now, she could almost laugh at how naive she'd been. It shouldn't have taken her divine intervention to learn what empathy was. But it had worked. Wisteriabloom never claimed to be perfect, but after that, she had certainly be better. More sensitive when it came to other's feelings, at least, even if she didn't always abide by what she knew.

But she'd fully lived through Asylum. And that was no story told to teach a lesson, no warning against the dangers of the stars or the forest. It started with them taking Snakekit, and then they took everything from her. She reconnected with her adopted daughter again, but there was no making up for the lost time, and there was barely a relationship left to repair. They'd gone their separate ways, but she'd never left Wisteriabloom's head or heart. Then her and Shrikefrost's litter was her everything, no matter how often she had to worry about the Asylum members. They had gone. Moonpaw was the only one to return. Two kits and her mate, gone. Echokit and Hollykit's death had not been at the paw of the rouges, but she still blamed them. And it was an Asylum cat who had dealt the final blow to Shrikefrost. That she would place on them.

To Wisteriabloom, the mousehunt was her in her prime. Nothing had made her feel more alive.

She was doing it for her kin and clan, and most importantly she was able to do something. It was an issue she could help to fix. Beecloud had been lost, but his sacrifice had freed the forest from a fate much worse. She had been at her best.

Each moon since then had chipped away at her.

The strain.

The dog attack.

The exhaustion.

Riverclan's leadership crumbling beneath their paws.

The leaf-bare.

And then them.

The gathering was the first step of it for many, but instead Wisteriabloom had been in camp, saying farewell to an old friend. She could've just left. She could've seen Stormbringer's death as an omen, and realised something was wrong. Although as a warrior she would never be content with a Kittypet life, as she began to age and her paws became weary, maybe it wouldn't be the worst thing. But she would never. Her pride wouldn't let her abandon the clan she'd spent her life trying to protect.

He paws carried her to the riverbank in one of the furthest corners of Riverclan territory, not far from the bridge that took the clan to fourtrees. It was far enough from camp here for her to feel disconnected just for a few moments. There was no need for her to catch her own food, but nonetheless, she reach a paw into the river, taking a seat on the dirt bank as she waited.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here? An elder getting off of her tail for once to catch her own food. Honestly Wisteriabloom, I'm impressed!" A silken, mocking voice rose above the quiet bubbling of the river as it moved over the rocks.

Wisteriabloom would be lying if she said she didn't jump a little, and that the dark forest warrior's sudden appearance didn't give her a fright. She hadn't noticed the stench of death, her nose so used to it now she blocked it out. A show to the elder's much developed maturity, she said nothing, only continued to stare at the river.

Silversnake wasn't having that. "Appears her skills aren't the only thing that's deteriorated with age," she whispered to her companion, "leave her to me. I was promised excitement here, and that's exactly what I'm going to get." She crept closer to the tabby, her own silver pelt glistening in the sun in places it wasn't marred with injuries. 

"Wisteriaaaa..." Her voice was louder this time, switching to a slightly more condescending tone to get her attention.

Wisteriabloom's jaw was locked, her body almost shaking with effort as she tried not to retaliate. Don't give her a reaction. That's exactly what she wants. It's simple. She had to move somehow though, as that filth's shadow was falling onto the water - there was way she could fish now. Carefully and slowly, she withdrew her paw from the river, placing it on the ground, her glare flicking to the unwelcome companion at her side.

"So you can hear me! Well, there's no need to be rude, is there? I've not laid a paw near you or your family - not that you have much left to lose - so there's nothing to blame me for." Silversnake's smirk grew as she crossed directly in front of the elder, taking her time as her long tail brushed Wisteriabloom's chin. She was eager to see how long this stony-faced mask would keep up, and when it finally cracked, so would the cat beneath it. She carried on moving down the river about a fox-length away before turning back. Wisteriabloom was staring at her, her eyes a mix of sorrow and burning hate and rage. Sorrow? She could certainly work with that.

"You parents' deaths weren't my fault. But both of them so close together, it's a wonder what nature does sometimes." With each of her next words, she took a step nearer to Wisteriabloom. "Snakekit? Hollykit? Echokit? Streamtail? Shrikefrost? I'm not to blame." The elder's head whipped around at the last name, but it was clear the others had hurt her too.

Wisteriabloom couldn't remember how to breathe, she was too busy holding back tears. When she responded, her voice was quiet and more broken than she could bear to hear. "How... how do you know those names?" Surely the Dark Forest didn't have the same abilities as Starclan to see what happened in the living world. Or at least, she hoped so.

Silversnake was face to face with the tabby now, and smiled, tail swishing. "You know how it is - knows someone who knows someone. And just so you know, the pair of you would never have lasted, even if he was alive at this very moment. He wouldn't have stuck around, especially with how full-on you were then. If anything, Raisha just saved you the drawn-out pain of a failed relationship." And the undead cat knew a thing or two about failed relationships, even if her own had ended in far more bloodshed. Just thinking of that fox heart made her claws curl into the dirt. "It's better for things to be... neater, I always say. The clean death of a snakebite is ever so effective, don't you think? And never once did I have to get my paws dirty."

She was a murderer. Wisteriabloom should've guessed that from the other she-cat's obvious appearance, but only now it had sunk in. Everything she'd been told was ringing in her ears.

And she was done with it.

"How dare you." Before she knew what was happening, Wisteriabloom's claws grabbed onto the warrior's small frame, pushing her head down into the river.

Silversnake had enjoyed watching the fuse of the ticking bomb grow short, but in all honestly it had detonated sooner than she had expected. Caught by surprise at the elder's sudden movement, her paws slipped and her head went under the water, the sudden change of state disorientating her. At first she struggled out of impulse, but then she was hit with a realisation - there was no need to fight. Eventually the old cat would tire, and she could stay here as long as she liked. Her lungs no longer needed air. It was one of the main pros of being dead, after all.

After a few moments of fake resistance, the silver cat let her body go limp, which meant more of her pelt was submerged in the water but her awareness wasn't at all affected.

Two wrongs never made a right, but Wisteriabloom had been eager to get her claws into the pelt of one of these filth for a while now. And she had her chance. Surprise gave her an advantage, along with the anger coursing through her veins. She forced the smaller cat's head deeper into the water. But then Silversnake stopped moving, stopped struggling and went completely limp, just like prey.

Wisteriabloom wasn't a killer.

She was running purely on instincts, and it just felt so wrong.

Her thoughts weren't forming properly after their previous conversation, rage and grief blinding her.

And so she let go.

At long last, Silversnake had gotten what she wanted. Wisteriabloom's weak heart had done as expected. As swiftly as the snake that had struck down Appleblossom, the same venomous killer she had been named after, her claws slashed through the thick, white collar of fur about the elder's neck. The deep red spread across pale pelt, Wisteriabloom choking before she fell to the ground.

The dying cat lay there, and Silversnake leaned close to her. "Silly Wisteria, you can't kill a cat who's already dead."

It could've been cleaner. She was out of practice.

As quickly as the rage had come, it was replaced by a new, blinding red. Wisteriabloom didn't see what happened, but she felt it. Her legs collapsed beneath her, and even with her paws free she couldn't stop the endless blood flow. She wanted to shout for help, or curse Silversnake with her dying breath, but she physically couldn't. No sound would come out.

The darkness was closing in.

No Starclan, no peace.

It just got closer and closer, until it was all Wisteriabloom knew.