I'm feeling sick of confusion (Closed)

Nightstalker was a nervous wreck. Starclan was gone, Murkystar was gone, Webshadow blinded, Frostgaze nearly bled to death, Ratrunner and Loudnose murdered beyond any sensible reason. He so badly wanted to lead Shadowclan to salvation or to put his claws and skills to the test and bring down any Dark Forest cat that occupied their camp before he himself could be sent wherever they go now, after the end of their life. Nightstalker wasn't sure if he really cared where he ended up, as long as he died in some sort of glory, in some way that was a help and hope to his clan. He took to isolation, keeping his head down and tongue-tied, turning to shadow whenever a dark forest cat got too close, or eyes glancing over. Call it cowardly, but he didn't know what he would do if confronted, would he draw his claws? Would his life end meaninglessly, would it affect his clan negatively instead of an uproarious uprising he dreamed of causing?

He didn't know.

And he didn't want to find out. Not really.

There was something though, a small light in the sky to him that he would almost believe was the return of Silverpelt, despite his previous reservations. Frostgaze. He was still defiant, but it nearly cost him his life to do so, for a small moment to pray to their ancestors on that one night that would have been a gathering in any normal circumstance. He respected, and appreciated that, maybe it was about time to make sure Frostgaze knew that.

Nightstalker was quiet and careful when he approached the white tom, hesitant and wary, of any unseen threat that may question him and his motives. Just a hunt. That's it. Clearing his throat to get the older toms attention, he meowed, unsure. "Frostgaze, would you like to join me on a hunt? It appears we may be a little low on the pile." Nightstalker stood stiffly and awkwardly, waiting for an answer while looking around.