We Live in the Rain [OPEN]

Shimmergale... What a great warrior name. It would have been better if his parents had been around to chant it with the rest of the clan. The usually chipper Shimmergale found himself alone out on the moor. He didn't mind being alone and he didn't mind being in a group. Whatever everyone else wanted was alright with him. Today though... he couldn't shake the heavy weight in his chest that he carried with him at all times. No one ever knew. No one ever saw it. Why? Because Shimmergale didn't believe anyone could do anything about it... not to mention he wasn't the only one suffering. No one else needed his baggage. He'd carry it himself. He always had.

Shimmergale sighed and tried to distract himself with a hunt. The clan always needed food. Most days he could handle his emotions, push away the bad thoughts and look to the future. Today wasn't one of those days. "I'll be okay." He muttered to himself, as he always did in the quiet of the night when his thoughts plagued him. Shimmergale looked out across the moor for anything he could bring back to the freshkill pile. He spotted a hare, the ever-present rodents on his territory. He immediately began to race after it as thunder rolled across the gray, cloudy sky. The hare saw him and bolted, but it wouldn't matter. Shimmergale was easily faster than most hares.

Shimmergale attempted to catch a hare, he was successful! -3SP

He ran the hare down and tackled it, sinking his fangs into it's neck as the storm began to pour. The water rolled off of his pelt. Not quite like a Riverclan cat, but he was used to weathering storms with his clan. As the water rolled down his pelt and washed away the blood seeping from the hare's neck, hot tears rolled down Shimmergale's face. He held the hare there for several heartbeats as the knot in his throat welled up and overwhelmed him.

He couldn't hold it back anymore.

The eternally joyful Shimmergale flopped to the ground, hare beneath his paws, and choked on his sorrow. He hadn't mourned the death of his mother, trying to stay positive and strong for everyone else. Now that he was alone... he needed to let it out. Hopefully no one else would come by. Stopping the flood gates now would be difficult. He kept his face buried in the dead hare's fur and his body shuddered. I miss you so much mom... Especially after being named a warrior. He wished she'd been in the crowd too.

The member 'Tara' has done the following action : Dice roll

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'Hunting Dice' : 1

The grey sky and gathering clouds seemed to drain Silverpaw's energy. It didn't take a medicine cat to realize that it was going to rain soon. Settling down before the rain, Silverpaw cocked her head as a warrior she had not known left the camp. Though she had never met him, she had seen him many times before. Guess not all warriors have common sense, she thought to herself. What was the tom thinking going out like this? Did he think he was impervious to the rain, or was he just trying to prove something? Either way, Silverpaw was content with letting him be, as long as he was back before the rain started.

It hadn't been long before a frighteningly loud noise shook her from her place in camp. It was a sound that she had never heard before, one that frightened her. As Silverpaw readied herself to take shelter in the tunnels, raindrops started to fall. The rain on her fur reminded Silverpaw of the warrior. Had he even come back to camp yet? Quickly sniffing at the air, she could faintly scent the cat; the cleansing rains threatening to wash the warrior's scent from the moors. Silverpaw feared that if the warrior were still out there he could catch a nasty cold in this weather. She knew Windclan was short on warriors, which made her decision to track the tom an easy one.

Silverpaw bolted out of camp following the trail, rainfall threatening to wipe the warrior's scent from the moors. As Silverpaw approached the end of the trail, her eyes caught on a shivering figure huddled up on the ground. Immediately, she assumed that the shivering was from the weather. Padding up to the warrior, she realized that the shivering wasn't caused solely by the weather. He was... crying? It was hard to tell through the rain, but the sounds he made was confirmation enough. His sobs sent pangs of sadness through Silverpaw. She stopped only a few tail-lengths away from him before speaking up. "What's wrong?" It seemed like a simple, stupid question, but it was all she could think of. Consoling warriors hadn't been part of her training, but she couldn't leave him like this. She wouldn't leave him like this.

Lynxpaw was an apprentice now, and that meant Brackenwing was out of the nursery and had found herself with much more free time without having to constantly chase down the energetic kit or keep an eye on the absolutely overbearing, half-crazed elder Mintheart, who was (very unfortunately, in Brackenwing's opinion) her kit's grandmother. She'd taken a walk to clear her head, finding herself unable to sit still and not really in the mood to be around the hustle and bustle of camp. Not that the introverted, awkward she-cat ever was, but still.

The first few raindrops began to fall, and Brackenwing shivered involuntarily as one found the back of her neck. The rainwater slid off her short fur remarkably well for how often Windclanners ate fish - which was 'never' as far as Brackenwing knew. A dead giveaway for her not-so-pure blood, if her stockier, more muscular body wasn't enough of one. Brackenwing gave one last glance around the moors, fully intending on heading back to camp now that she'd stretched a bit, and her green eyes landed on a par of cats a distance away. She immediately recognized Shimmergale's pelt, though him slumped on the ground was an unfamiliar sight. The smaller cat with him... One of the apprentices, Brackenwing was certain. Silverpaw, she though.? Brackenwing tended to be aloof among even her own clanmates, and hadn't much paid attention to recent ceremonies... Whoops.

Why the two were out in this rain as well, she wasn't sure. Perhaps they'd just gotten caught up hunting, but Brackenwing glanced at her brother again. It didn't seem right, from their posture. Mind made up, the marbled tabby padded toward them, unsure if she was interrupting something. If Shimmergale was hurt... But the only blood she could scent was the hare, and he didn't have any wounds on him that she could see.

"Hey," She called softly as she neared her clanmates. Closer, Brackenwing could tell something was wrong. If Silverpaw hadn't been taught how to comfort others as part of her training, then Brackenwing certainly hadn't. "Uhm. You two all right? This... Isn't great weather to be out in." Like she also wasn't out in this weather. Oh foxdung, but why did she have to be the awkward one? Not for the first time, Brackenwing wished that mom was still here. Mom always knew what to say to others. Paws shifting awkwardly for a moment, Brackenwing padded forward, pressing against Shimmergale's pelt, if he didn't pull away.

Shimmergale hadn't noticed either cat approach until he heard them speak. Oh no! Brackenwing! He took a minute to shut off the water works, but it was not without difficulty. As he lifted his face from the hare and turned to look at the medicine cat apprentice and his sister, his smile was back and his eyes were shining like they always were... except the redness in his eyes and the strain on his face from his hard crying was still very apparent. It didn't stop him from trying to hide it.

"The hare kicked me when I caught it!" He blatantly lied. "I'm alright, I'm just a little winded!" He had to get out of here. He had to get away. He didn't want anyone to watch him fall apart. He was still barely keeping it together. Shimmergale leaned down and grabbed the hare in his teeth. He leaned into his sister and wrapped his tail briefly around her's as if trying to reassure her that everything was fine.

He was very clearly not fine.

"If you two want to go I will catch up. Hares can be heavy after all." His voice shook. He cleared his throat, trying to mask the problem to the best of his ability. Even he doubted he was fooling anyone at this point, but he would try until someone called him out on it. Then he didn't know what he would do. He didn't have the stamina to hide his pain for much longer. His chest was heavy and his legs felt like lead. Even a feather's weight more of pressure or stress would be enough to break his crumbling facade.

The young apprentice turned to the approaching warrior. A wave of relief washed over her, though it was short-lived as the striped warrior raised his head. The sight of him had nearly sent her into tears. She was forced to look away. The pure anguish in the warrior's eyes was absolutely gut-wrenching. The words that fell out of him weren't any better either.

Silverpaw silently collected herself. Prepared to face the warrior once more, she turned to him. Shockingly, she recognized him. It was hard to tell at first, but now she was sure of it. She had been a kit when he had returned to camp. Batsong had called Windclan to action while Silverpaw had hid in the nursery. Shimmerpaw! Wait, no that's not right. She had remembered his warrior ceremony, it had taken place some time after her apprentice ceremony. "Shimmergale," she began softly, "we're not going anywhere." Silverpaw closed the distance between them, glancing at the other warrior for a look of affirmation before doing so. Taking up a position on his unattended side, Silverpaw lightly pushed herself against him in an attempt to comfort the tom. Unlike the two, Silverpaw had been utterly drenched by the storm. Well, if he hated how wet her fur was he would just have to deal with it. She was not leaving his side until this was over.

Brackenwing winced upon seeing her brother's bloodshot eyes and the expression on his face. Right. And I'm a mouse. Brackenwing thought. His lie was transparent even to her. He'd always been the cheerful, upbeat, energetic one, and right now all her instincts were telling her that something was wrong. He was out in the rain, shivering and crying, for Starclan's sake Brackenwing didn't know how to interpret that as being anything even remotely close to him being fine, because he wasn't.

The apprentice had glanced up at her, and Brackenwing gave her a small nod. She appreciated her staying to try and help, stars knew Brackenwing wasn't any good at this. The poor apprentice's fur looked like it had been drenched by the rain, and Brackenwing made a mental note to make her see Batsong whenever they made it to camp. Windclanners were hardy creatures, but she wouldn't want the apprentice to catch a cold being out here too.

"Don't give me that hunting excuse, brother. I care about you far too much for that to actually work." She mewed, bumping his shoulder somewhat apologetically. She didn't know how to make that rebuke not sting, but someone had to tell him that wouldn't work. "You're upset about something, clearly. What's wrong?" Mom, I'd kill for some of that wisdom right about now.

Shimmergale tensed. The more they talked, the less control he had. He opened his mouth to say something else, to reassure them both he was fine. Nothing came out. Instead, he closed his mouth again and licked at the small pink smear on his mouth from the hare. His eyes dropped and his expression gave way to a far more solemn one. He was silent for a few heartbeats before he finally took in a deep breath in an attempt to keep his voice steady.

"Mom is gone." He said softly. It may have been missed over the sound of the storm, but he said it. He was quiet for a few seconds more before he sniffed hard once and grabbed the hare with his teeth. He stood, not wanting to say much else, and began to slowly drag the hare in the direction of camp. His tail was low and his head was too, lower than necessary for dragging the brown hare around.

His eyes were wet again, but if there were any tears, the storm was covering them well. His ears would rotate in the direction of anyone who spoke, but he didn't know that he had the heart to respond. At least the hare in his mouth was a good excuse.