Everything I Know About Warriors (and writing a fanfiction)

Death Scenes

A question was brought to me, so I figured I should add a part to the guide: how should death scenes be written when cats can't cry? It's a good point, but it was hard to answer in just a quick comment. I'll try here.

Death scenes are hard no matter what you're writing. If it's a small side character, it's understanding if it isn't too impacting on the MC, but losing a family member or close friend changes them for a long time. But if their too impacted, the quality of the story might slow. The death should be painful, obviously, but maybe the death could motivate the character somehow, or at least they need something else in their life to help keep them going.

But the death scene, how do you describe the character's sadness without having them cry? You should try to focus on explaining how the character feels, but you can't go overboard and go paragraph after paragraph of a broken heart because then it begins to repeat itself. And remember, it's better if the reader has a connection to the dead cat, too. If the reader feels nothing, they won't connect to what the MC is saying. I'll write a few death scenes as examples, though because you guys don't know the cats it might be a little hard for you to connect, but I'll do my best.

There's a few different ways to make a death more emotional--one of the best ways I can think about is the cat having so much possibility of life ahead of them, or leaving something unfinished. Maybe the MC has something important to tell them, or the dead cat had something they needed to tell the MC. Maybe the cat had just gotten into a relationship and their new mate was waiting for them, or perhaps the cat had reconnected with an old friend and was looking forward to future moons close together. Or maybe they had a fight with their mate or friend or the MC, and before they can apology they die.

Let's run into some examples. Or maybe just one. For now at least.

Example:

Aspenleaf emerged from the medicine cat's den with such a lightness in her chest she thought she might float off. Anxiety and anticipation twisted in her heart as she searched the clearing. Where is he? She gazed desperately at every greenleaf shadow, but she couldn't spot the ginger tabby she was searching for, nor the dark gray tom she also needed to speak to.

A familiar white and black coat caught her eye, and a purr grew in her chest. She rushed over, paws light on the warm grass. "Cloudshade!"

Her friend looked over, yellow eyes lighting with a warm glow. "Aspenleaf, what's up with you? I don't think I've ever seen a cat leave the medicine cat's den with quite a bounce."

"I have news!" the young she-cat squealed, feeling her body quiver uncontrollably. "Have you seen Stemroot and Smokefur?"

The she-cat gasped, understanding flaring in her eyes. "Oh, you're expecting kits!"

Aspenleaf purred, dancing from paw to paw. "Brindlebranch just confirmed it! Have you seen them?" She could imagine their faces, their excitement boiling over for the future they were given.

Cloudshade purred. "They went on patrol a while ago, they should be back any moment! Oh, Stemroot will be so proud, and Smokefur will be a great father!"

Aspenleaf let out a shivering sigh. She was more excited to tell her father of the news than her mate, but she couldn't help it--her mother had died while kitting, and her littermates passed away soon after. Stemroot had lived in the nursery with her, raising her like a queen would. She knew he would be overjoyed. She could picture it, her father playing with her kits, teaching them how to behave and watching them when she decided to stretch her legs in the forest.

A familiarly warm scent touched her scent glands. Smokefur! Aspenleaf turned to the camp entrance, hurrying over with her tail rising high. But a new scent came to her, and she slowed to a stop. The sharp scent of blood waved around her. A deep feeling grew in her stomach, like a piece of rotten prey was beginning to settle and twist her gut.

Smokefur limped into the clearing. His thick dark gray fur was smeared with dark blood, and he held his front paw off the ground. "Smokefur!" Aspenleaf rushed forward, curling around him and pressing against his side, not even noticing the wet that spread onto her white and black fur.

His head leaned into her neck, taking in her scent. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I... I tried..." He winched, and she led him away from the camp entrance before letting him settle down to his belly with a groan. She softly licked at a wound on his neck, a deep gash from teeth being torn from his skin. She heard cats calling for Brindlebranch, but her entire focus was on her mate. His bloody fur smelled of fox.

Then the warriors Tigerpool and Yewsplash stumbled into camp.

And they pulled a limp ginger tabby shape between them.

Aspenleaf's vision twisted, curling with darkness as a void opened in her stomach. Claws dug at her, digging deep into her heart, clenching tight with no pain--for there was nothing. No suffering, no thoughts, just darkness. The black nothingness pulled tight at her stomach, crawling up her throat, swirling through her chest.

"I'm sorry..." Smokefur's mew was faint, barely there. She couldn't feel his wet fur anymore, nor the cold of his nose when it dug into her neck.

Stemroot was rested soft in the clearing, splayed out as if in a deep sleep. But his eyes lay open, dark and dull, staring into her empty chest with a silent question: What are you without me?

She thought of the future, one where her newborn kits lay at her belly and her father stared down at them, eyes soft and warm.

Now they sat blank and empty, never to see their little bodies, never to watch them grow into warriors, never to tell them that he was proud of them like he did for her.

Nothing, she answered back. I am nothing.

Example End.

So, yeah, death scenes are hard. You need the perfect blend of dark emptiness and actual book descriptions. Before the death the world should seem bright and warm and full of descriptions and color. But once the death is revealed, everything seems dark, empty. Sentences should be short, paragraphs cut like there should be more. Like there wasn't enough energy to continue writing them.

Does that make sense? I hope it helps a little. Maybe I'll add another example later on, I'm not sure yet. Let me know if you have any further questions, I don't know if I explained it that well. I guess, just to make it all into a shortened sentence, don't write that your character was so sad that they cried, but that they felt so empty they didn't know what was left in the world even with their future right beside them.