Poisonberry's Vengence

Survivors' Guilt

Emeraldpaw, above! Base by Louixie!

To Hopepaw, it seemed so wrong to look back and not see her long, bushy tail draped over the edge of her nest. When she went to curl it over her nose or around her body to doze or rest, she was left with a stump flicking against her thin flanks. Though still agonizingly painful, the infection had abated, and she was in no immediate danger unless it re-infected. 

But her missing limb was nothing compared to the grief she still felt. At first, she hadn't wanted to even believe it. She'd have fever-fueled hallucinations, where he would be sorting herbs beside her, talking to her, or walking in front of her. But now, with a clearer head, she was forced to fully acknowledge that he was gone. Nothing felt the same. And Hopepaw knew that nothing would probably ever be, or feel the same again.

Head resting limply on the side of her nest, she saw Bluepaw and Emeraldpaw pad past the Medicine den. Bluepaw was gazing at the sleek black-and-white mottled she-cat with stars in his eyes, as his fascination padded confidently over to her mentor. Dimly, she noted that she was probably close to having her Warrior Assessment. 

She narrowed her eyes at Bluepaw, a sudden prick of anger flaming in her chest. Does he not even miss Screechpaw? Does he not care that his own brother is buried in the cold, hard ground, and his own sister just had her tail removed? Stupid question. All he cares about is Emeraldpaw. 

She looked away and turned on her side to gaze at the stone walls of the den. The lichen's radiance cast an eerie, silver-blue light on the mottled rockface as her fury subsided into a desolate numbness. She shut her eyes, but before she could even try to sleep, a cat cleared his throat at the entrance of the den. She looked over to find Tumblesoar standing there with a wood pigeon clasped in his jaws.

"Hey, Hopepaw. How are you?" He asked, keeping his voice low and quiet. He padded over to her nest and dropped the prey, its scent settling over the den like a dense fog. Though it smelled wonderful, Hopepaw wasn't hungry. Why should I get to eat, when Screechpaw can't? When I took that away from him?  The last time she'd eaten was just before the amputation, nearly two days ago. Silently, she gave a subtle nod to her mentor and returned to staring at the wall. He sighed sadly. "I'm so sorry this happened. I shouldn't have let you go on your own. Your tail, Screechpaw...." He paused, eyes glittering in distress. "I take all the blame. I'm so sorry." 

Hopepaw was confused. It's not your fault, it's mine! She cried silently. "Oh, Hopepaw, you're so skinny. I can see all your ribs through your fur. Eat, please." He rasped, a desperate note ringing in his words. She simply shook her head and curled tighter into her nest. "Try," Tumblesoar whispered, turning to leave. "The whole Clan is worried about you. We've lost one apprentice, we don't want to lose another. Try to, at least, eat something." 

I bet Bluepaw isn't worried. She thought bitterly but didn't say anything as he left. Tired of being awake, she closed her eyes and finally retreated into the soft blackness of sleep. 

                                                                              ~❆~

Gentlebreeze stripped a small piece of pigeon flesh off of the bird's wing, pushing it toward her daughter. "Hopepaw, please. Eat just this little bit." She begged, golden eyes radiating her anxiety. Hopepaw's nose crinkled at the scent, suddenly repulsed at the thought of eating. Frustrated, Gentlebreeze set the prey back on the ground. "Why won't you eat?" 

"Because Screechpaw can't."

"You... Oh." She sat down heavily. "I know what's going on. I've spoken to Frostedmoss. You're experiencing something called 'Survivors' Guilt.' You survived, and he didn't. You feel like you can't do what you need because he can't anymore. It happens to many cats when they survive a big tragedy like a blizzard or a battle, and someone they love doesn't."