(✓) Warriors ▸ Shadows of the Domestic [1]

Chapter 21

After conversing with Firepaw, I retired for the night. Dreams came swiftly, bringing tranquility, but were abruptly shattered by a piercing shriek. I jolted awake, claws unsheathed, as Firepaw clung to my side, his voice trembling, "What... what?"

The sight of blood spurred me into action. I leapt from my nest, hurtling toward the medicine den. Outside, a ghastly scene awaited—the battered and bloodied body of a cat lay before me.

"No..." I breathed out, the word a mere whisper within the cacophony of chaos.

I padded softly to the still form of Spottedleaf, tears beading like morning dew in the corners of my eyes. Beside me, Firepaw's low yowl of grief resonated, his form crumbling under sorrow. I could only gaze in silence at the beautiful tortoiseshell, our devoted medicine cat since my youth. Though not aged, she embodied wisdom and care our clan could scarcely hope to replace.

A miracle would be needed to find her equal.

A shuddering sigh escaped my lips as I pressed my nose to her fur, the scent a bittersweet echo of what was lost. Suddenly, a cry tore through the stillness. "Yellowfang has taken my kits, and she murdered Spottedleaf! Find her! Kill her!" Frostfur's anguished howl cut through the air, filled with raw fury and despair.

"No, no, Frostfur, she wouldn't do that," came Bluestar's mournful mew, a soothing balm against the accusation's sharp sting. I looked toward the majestic gray-blue she-cat, her sigh heavy with sorrow. She settled gracefully beside Spottedleaf's body, her presence a silent comfort.

"Ca-can we hold her vigil?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, fragile in the night's stillness. Bluestar's blue eyes, deep as the evening sky, swung towards me, softening with empathy.

"Of course, Harepaw," she murmured, her voice as gentle as a leaf's fall, "of course."

With a sharp nod to Bluestar, I summoned my friends, waving my tail. "We shall carry her to the heart of the clearing," I declared softly. Together, we nodded, the unspoken oath of our sorrow binding us. Gently, we lifted Spottedleaf, her lifeless form borne upon our backs. As we moved, a procession of mourners gathered, their heads bowed in silent grief, their hearts heavy with the shared burden of loss.

With reverence, we laid Spottedleaf upon the ground, and I tenderly closed her eyes. A gentle lick upon her nose, a final gesture of farewell, and then I stepped back, joining Ravenpaw, Firepaw, and Graypaw in solemn solidarity. Bluestar stepped forward, her presence a beacon in our collective sorrow.

"Tonight, we hold vigil for Spottedleaf, our cherished medicine cat," she proclaimed, her voice a melody of sorrow and strength. "Though her absence pierces my heart, ThunderClan shall endure, her spirit interwoven with ours."

Her gaze locked with mine, eyes that mirrored the deep well of grief within me, steadfast and unwavering. In the hush of the clearing, voices rose, a fragile chorus of remembrance. Words of praise for Spottedleaf wove through the night, each one a thread in the tapestry of her memory.

Throughout the entire vigil, I sat with my head bowed, a silent sentinel amidst the sea of mourning. The night was a tapestry of whispers and soft sighs, each breath a tribute to Spottedleaf's memory. When the elders approached to gather her still form, I lifted my gaze to the heavens, where the faint shimmer of a new star graced the midnight canvas, a celestial tribute to her spirit.

Firepaw padded over to me, his presence a soothing balm. He pressed himself against me, sharing his warmth on this cold, solemn night. "Let's go and find Yellowfang and Frostfur's kits," he whispered in my ear, his voice a soft melody against the backdrop of our grief.

I blinked, the weight of his words sinking in. "Are you certain you want to do that?" I asked, my voice trembling with doubt. "What if she truly did kill Spottedleaf and took Frostfur's kits? Who knows where they are?"

Firepaw met my gaze with unwavering determination, his eyes shining with an inner light. "Do you really believe the words of a queen driven mad by fear?" he mewed, his voice a steady anchor, grounding me against the tide of uncertainty.

My jaw tightened. "No, not really, but still... I am grieving," I sighed, raking my claws through the moss beneath me. "I want to stay here, to sit with her one last time."

Firepaw nodded, his eyes filled with understanding. He gently licked my ear. "Okay, I'll see you soon then," he murmured. With a final look, he turned and padded off, signaling Graypaw to follow. They headed towards Bluestar, who was overseeing the elders as they carefully carried Spottedleaf out of the camp. I could hear their hushed mews as they spoke with the ThunderClan leader, but I turned away, my gaze lifting once more to the starlit sky.

Above, the silverpelt stretched across the heavens, a silent testament to our loss. The stars seemed to burn brighter tonight, their light a beacon of hope amidst our sorrow. I let out a trembling breath, feeling the weight of the world settle over me.

Here, surrounded by the whispers of the night, I felt Spottedleaf's presence linger, like a soft breeze rustling through the trees. Her spirit would watch over us, a new star in the endless sky, guiding us through the darkness.

A warm pelt brushed against mine, and I turned to my left to see Brindleface settling down beside me. Her green eyes glowed with gentle concern. "Hey there, dear. Why didn't you join Firepaw and Graypaw when they went out?" she asked softly.

I sighed, turning my gaze back to the twinkling stars. "I couldn't leave Spottedleaf, not now, not really," I murmured, the weight of my sorrow pressing down on me.

Brindleface hummed softly, her presence a comforting balm. "I understand what you mean, but you can always sleep in my nest tonight," she offered kindly.

I blinked at her, taken aback. "In the warriors' den?" I asked, the thought surprising yet relieving.

She shrugged lightly. "Bluestar can't complain. You just lost your best friend and your mentor in the span of a few days. You need time with family," she replied.

I hummed softly, "I guess I do, but won't the other apprentices complain?" I bit my lip, my uncertainty weighing heavy. "Won't Tigerclaw say anything?"

Brindleface snorted, her whiskers quivering with amusement. "And what can that fleabag say if I want to spend time with my daughter?"

A pang struck my chest. I hadn't told Brindleface the truth about my real mother and father. It felt wrong to treat her as something other than the motherly figure she had always been to me.

I sighed, leaning in closer to her warmth. "Fine, I'll go into the den, and you go ask Bluestar," I said. She smiled, her eyes shining with affection, before licking my ear. "Of course, you go ahead, darling."

With that, she stood up and padded gracefully toward where Bluestar was conversing with Whitestorm.

I turned and made my way to the warriors' den. I slipped under the mossy entrance, my heart beating steadily as I sniffed around. Eventually, I found Brindleface's nest, and I nestled into it, curling my soft tail over my nose.

The familiar scent enveloped me, and without further ado, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.