regardless, no one knows the day has cleared (solo)

Flutterpetal sat silently at the entrance to WindClan camp for his warrior vigil. Evening had fallen. The sun's rays were long gone, far behind the mountains now. In its place, a pale half-moon rose, shedding quiet, gentle light on the rustling moors. A cool breeze swept through the grasses, ruffling his thick fur. And of course, ever-present stars shone in the sky. Radiant. Brilliant. Silverpelt looked down on their descendants with a knowing, watchful eye. Just as they had for centuries prior. Just as he would one day. As the tom stared up at the stars, sprinkled across the heavens, he couldn't help but wonder which one of them was Goldenpaw.

Goldenpaw... Coyotegrin's son. Daisybreeze's brother. Adderpaw's friend. The tom had grown up alongside them, a few moons older. He was one of the oldest apprentices in WindClan when he died. Surely he had only been a few days away from his assessment? He would have gotten his warrior name before me... I wonder what it would have been. A few days ago... it had only been a few days ago that Goldenpaw had disappeared from the earth. His body was still here, laid to rest alongside those of the other WindClan cats who had passed before him. But his spirit was long gone. Flutterpetal couldn't stop himself from gazing up at the stars, eyes stuck to the sky, even though his neck hurt. The dazzling pinpricks of light reflected off of his green eyes. There were so many of them. It was impossible to count. Warriors, apprentices, leaders of days past. And now Goldenpaw was one of them. Would he be a small star, like the one at the edge of the horizon? Or that big bright one in the center of the sky?

A couple of wispy clouds drifted past Silverpelt, obscuring his vision for a moment. Flutterpetal tore his eyes away from the stars and instead looked down at his paws. They seemed so small, compared to the heavens. Two small black paws in front, two more in back. So useless. What could those paws do against the stars? The ebb and flow of time that made the seasons change? The turning of the breeze from a warm greenleaf breath to a chilly hint of leaf-fall? The images of a golden-furred corpse, laying on the ground of camp? Nothing. He couldn't do anything about it. So why, then, did the thoughts linger in his mind? These thoughts of death, and life, and what they meant to the world? It was incomprehensible. Yet, something kept itching at the back of his brain.

Death was strange. Flutterpetal still did not quite understand it. But there were a few things that he did understand. Wind. Flowers. Rabbits. Running. The shadow of the clouds passed, and he glanced up towards the stars once more. StarClan had given Goldenpaw life. They had given Flutterpetal life, too. But they took away Goldenpaw, and left him here. What did that mean? Was there a reason behind it? Or was it just a random chance that he had not been the one trapped in the fox's jaws? Was there some dream, some different time, where Goldenpaw had sat here on his vigil and Flutterpetal had been buried deep under the ground?

It did not matter if there was.

What mattered was here, and now. Life. The things he could do. As Flutterpetal looked at the stars, faces seemed to appear in front of him. Whisperear. Daisybreeze. Yarrowblossom. Hazelpaw. Adderpaw. His friends; his Clanmates; his family. They were all alive. They all breathed air, ate prey, slept, and saw the same stars that he did. If nothing else, Flutterpetal had an obligation to them. He had to live, too. He needed to do what he could with his paws... do what he could with his small life. He was tiny compared to the stars. But to Whisperear, to Yarrowblossom, to Hazelpaw and Adderpaw, he could be just big enough. He could offer a shoulder to lean on. He could hunt for his Clanmates. He could give flowers to his friends. Tiny, small ways of life... as fleeting as the wildflowers that bloomed and were cut short as quickly as with a swipe of his claws. Their lives may seem like that to the stars, which stood in the heavens forever and gazed down. But here, now, his life was what it was. Maybe not important... but it was there. He was there.

I promise... I will do what I can.

And that was what really mattered, wasn't it?