piano sonata no. 2 [c]

The last thing Pantherkit remembered was the brief moment before he collided head first with the ground. Maybe he should’ve been grateful. If the eagle wouldn’t have dropped him then he surely would’ve been carried off to some nest in an obscure tree where he would’ve made a hearty meal for the hungry eagle. But was he about to die now? He had immediately been knocked unconscious once his body hit the grass, so he had no memory of Nectarflower bringing him to the medicine den before heading back out to assist Tigerdance and Sootstorm with taking down the predator. Being unconscious was nothing like sleeping, because he couldn’t dream. He couldn’t feel or sense anything, either. In fact, he had no idea that he was even unconscious. Whenever mercy decided to wake the tom up in the near future, Pantherkit would have no idea that he had even been knocked out.

Now, though, he needed treatment to ensure that death wouldn’t take him so early. His shoulders still bled from where the eagle’s talons had harshly hooked on to him. The fur around the back of his head was also bloody from the crack in his skull that the collision had left. Overall, he was a mess. Time was of the essence. Whatever happened in the next few moments would determine whether or not Pantherkit would live or die.

The gateway between life and death was unimaginable to a kit. No feline this young should ever receive the opportunity to experience something so haunting. Although, was it truly an experience? To feel was to experience, and Pantherkit could feel nothing at all. There was no time, there wasn't even darkness. There was simply nothing. To the unconscious body, a heartbeat felt like several moons, and several moons felt like a heartbeat. Heartbeat... was Pantherkit's heart still beating? How strong could the heart of a kit be for it to power through such disarray? There was one thing for certain. Not every cat would've been able to survive this. The only reasonable explanations could be sheer luck or mercy from the stars above.

Or perhaps it was a punishment, as Pantherkit would come to realize upon his return to the waking world...

Although it had only been two days, Pantherkit thought that it had been ages. Life began to take form around him again. The kit's vision returned slowly, almost as if a storm cloud was being pulled away from his eyes. His limbs and his head felt heavy, and his shoulders still slightly stung from his wounds. He let out a breath to confirm that he was still alive. His eyes wandered around in order to take in his surroundings. This couldn't have been where he was last. He vividly remembered padding out of camp, spinning around to face the patrol of warriors, and then being picked up and dropped by the eagle. That hadn't happened in here, so where was he? Maybe he had celebrated too soon and he truly was in StarClan. He felt panic rise up within him. He hadn't received the opportunity to become an apprentice or hear his warrior name be chanted by the entire Clan. He hadn't had the chance to meet his mentor or teach other cats how to fight and hunt in the future. There was so much to the life of a Clan cat that he would never be able to live through, but at least he had left the boundaries of camp before his death.

He silently looked over to his right before realizing that there was another cat in the den. The sight took him by surprise, but he did nothing to give that away. Due to his post-unconscious stupor, he couldn't quite tell who the cat was. His memory told him that it was Sparrowthorn, one of the medicine cats that he had seen around camp, but the rest of his currently foggy brain had no idea who he was looking at.

"StarClan...?" He asked, fearfully, "Are you- are you StarClan?"
There was one thing that Pantherkit hadn't quite figured out yet. He could feel so much fear and confusion within his heart and his mind, but his voice... it was unusually monotone, and he seemed to be expressionless. Not a single emotion crossed his face. What a shock this would be to a kit that was so used to smiling.