𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍 〖ʷᵃʳʳⁱᵒʳ ᶜᵃᵗˢ〗

XIII

(tw for description of dead body!!)

Her fur standing on end, and barely able to see anything, Spiderpaw ran towards the noise. If her vision was true...then that meant...

She crashed through the brush, trying to hear any signifier of where the sound had come from. Maybe, Stoatnose was alive. Maybe...maybe Spiderpaw was meant to save her, before she joined the Forest of Fog!

Suddenly, as she ran through a clearing, she tripped over a large boulder, and went sprawling to the ground, dirt rubbing against her muzzle. She sat up, although her nose stung where it had hit the earth, and immediately a dizzy sensation washed over her.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

Although she had only smelled it when cats were wounded, Spiderpaw quickly recognized the thick stench that hung in the air to be blood. A lot of blood. Pungent and metallic. It slid down her throat as if the liquid herself was being poured in, making her gasp. But where was it coming from?

Looking down, the prophet apprentice inhaled a sharp breath. Her paws were speckled with it. But how could she have gotten blood on her paws?

Unless, of course, the boulder she had tumbled over was no boulder at all. Unless...it was a body.

She wasn't sure why she looked. Maybe it was a deeper feeling of curiosity, maybe it was the need of confirmation. Maybe it was because she didn't want to lie to herself when she already knew the truth. Regardless of the reason, she slowly turned back to where the body had been, her eyes now adjusted to the darkness.

It was horrifying. It was awful. The formerly curly-haired she-cat was no longer curly-haired. Her fur had been slicked down with blood. Her black and red mackerel pelt almost seemed duller than it had been in life. Her paws were outstretched, reaching out for something that wasn't there. One of the slits where cats' claws were supposed to come out was now empty, as if the claw had been ripped right from the socket. She had been positioned as though laying on her side, but her legs looked ready for a fight. Even stranger, half of her pelt was covered thickly in dirt. For a moment, it just seemed like she had rolled in it, but Spiderpaw saw that the placement was far too intentional—no, she was meant to be buried. A chill ran down the apprentice's spine. It appeared to be a half-finished job. What if whoever or whatever killed her was lurking in the woods, waiting for new prey?

And her throat—well, if things were correct, which they clearly weren't, then her throat would have a flash of white across it. But the white was gone. Instead, blooming from its center was deep red flesh, surrounded by lighter pink. Blood poured down in rivulets, making gorges of the fur on her lower chest and stomach. Around her side, blood pooled, a lake spreading from underneath her.

What was by far the most horrifying, however, was Stoatnose's expression. Her eyes, which were supposed to be a fiery copper, were dull, as though ice had formed over them. They stared sightlessly up at the sky. Her mouth was slack-jawed and slightly tilted, as though something had impacted it before she could let out a final, defiant scream. Her ears were pinned firm against her head.

After she had seen almost everything, Spiderpaw had a strange moment where it was just before the wave of fear crashed over her. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears, accompanied by her shocked breathing, which came in quickly but quietly. Her eyes were taking in everything, leaving her brain overloaded with all of the information.

And then, finally, it dawned on her. Stoatnose was dead. An advisor had been murdered, right under MorningClan's noses.

That was when she screamed, a noise not too dissimilar from the final screech of Stoatnose.