spiritual cramp [C]

Terror echoed through Cloverheart's ears, sending shivers all throughout her body. The ghosts that usually plagued her mind, the corners of her vision, were nowhere to be found; now, it was only Mallowmist. Her spectral form lingered near-constantly on the edges of her sight. The medicine cat was jumping at shadows, every subtle twitch of movement from another cat proof to her that Mallowmist had returned to deliver another prophecy in that horrible, echoing tone. Cloverheart shuddered, and retreated further into the boughs of her den.

"Why me," she groaned, dropping her head to press her chin against her chest. "Why me? Wasn't I supposed to be a warrior?" She snorted, bitter. It would have been so much better, to remain blissfully unaware of the plights of StarClan. More than anything she wanted to fish again. Thoughts of the water rose to mind, almost comforting, but Mallowmist's visage rippled in the imaginary reflection, and she recoiled.

She needed to speak to someone, needed to not bear it alone. Cats rotated through her mind, faceless and nameless, and she ached to tell any of the vague figures instead of those that surrounded her. Briefly, Darkglow joined the cast, but even if the she-cat had been present Cloverheart couldn't have justified shunting that burden onto her. That left her with the other high ranking members of her Clan. Or what was left of them, at least.

Jaystar had disappeared, leaving Vixenstar to take his place. "Not that I want to have this conversation with him, anyway," she muttered to no one, the conversation regarding... Ivystar's disappearance pressing against her conscience. And then there was Perchfall, though she'd been recently disposed of her rank– but even with no title, she was all Cloverheart had.

Begrudgingly, the thin she-cat rose to her paws, stalking into the open camp with her head low and ears pinned. Everything was a horror to her, even cats she had known her entire life; everything except the flash of a pale silver pelt at the corner of her vision. And even then... but no, Perchfall wouldn't hurt her, nor spit at her. There was no actualized threat, only the churning of her troubled mind.

Gingerly, she approached, clearing her throat as she neared the former deputy. She couldn't recall a time she had spoken to Perchfall privately, and nerves bristled her fur. "Hello. We need to talk." Cloverheart rasped, blunt and effective. In a lower tone, and with a note of apology, she added: "It's about StarClan."

Life was a blur. Morning, afternoon, night, everything seemed to fuzz together like it was being seen through rippling water. Without the duties of a deputy to keep her grounded, Perchfall found herself completely lost in a dull haze. Several times she had thought it was daytime, only to look up and see the moon glaring into her soul. How long had it been? She honestly had no clue. Everything was foggy, clouded, impossible to keep track of any time. Once or twice she had gone hunting, she thought. It was hard to tell. It felt like the one thing tying her down to the ground had been completely severed, and now she floated adrift in an endless pool of stagnant water, with no land visible in any direction. It was probably a good thing that her mind was so lost... she couldn't even find time to comprehend what had happened.

Suddenly, as it did when someone talked to her, the world abruptly leapt back into existence. Sharp outlines of dens and cats and the willow tree popped in front of her eyes, and Perchfall leapt up, startled, fur on end. In a moment, she calmed down-- at least outwardly. Calm. You can carry on a conversation. Who had spoken to her? Casting her eyes around for a moment, finally she saw Cloverheart, the medicine cat. Probably the only real authority currently in camp. Had they ever spoken before? What could she possibly have to say? Still, she managed to rack her brains for the words that had been said mere moments ago. About... StarClan? What? Why? Have they finally shown themselves, after all this time? Still bewildered, Perchfall spoke what she could. "What is it?" she asked, trying to keep the wariness and weariness from her tone.