Warriors: What Is There To Do?

Chapter 40- They Will Pay

Dead.

Dead.

Splitrain stood in the middle of chaos, staring blankly at the mass of fur that had been Sharpstar.

The silence around her swirled and churned. The stars of her ancestors twinkled cruelty more felt now than ever before.

Moongaze was speaking to her, but his voice was muffled. Her gaze never left the sight in front of her.

Rapidflame stood over Sharpstar's body, triumphant hate in his blue eyes as he looked straight at her, as if to say 'this is what happens when you cross me.'

Windclan and Thunderclan alike were horror-struck, staring at each other, as if they were dreaming.

As if it was all just a nightmare.

No nightmare could compare to this reality as Rapidflame slowly climbed up to the lowest branch of the Fourtrees. The medicine cats were a blur as they took the chance to start prepping and healing the wounds of the rather quick fight. From the sound of it, no cat seemed to be injured too badly.

Clearing his throat, savoring the mixed looks of horror from three clans and glee from one, Rapidflame spoke out into the quiet clearing, hushed with apprehension.

"As Riverclan's new leader, I declare war on Shadowclan on the basis of Glowstar's death. No mercy shall be given until surrender is given."

Cries of horror rippled through the mass of cats, and just as Fernstar opened his jaws to protest, Rapidflame chuckled and glared at the black Thunderclan leader.

"And let's not forget that Thunderclan and Windclan have called neutrality. There's nothing that they can do."

And that was that.

"And now, I believe that Shadowclan had a couple of things to decide? The new leader and deputy?"

Worried and lost looks were exchanged around Shadowclan in particular as both Splitrain and Darkpelt were sought out.

"They were the candidates."

"...One becomes leader and the other deputy...?"

"What will Starclan think?"

Mintbreeze was the first to speak up. Seedpaw, quaking in fear but determined, pressed his forepaws against Blackrose's wounded shoulder in an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"I know who Sharpstar was going to appoint deputy," he claimed. Glancing up to the stars, he closed his eyes and seemed to send a silent prayer to Starclan.

"Splitrain was Sharpstar's choice, and although much too young, the Warrior Code states that the deputy shall become the new leader when the old one dies. She is Shadowclan's new leader."

All was quiet. Jaws moved, and opinions were called out, but Splitrain heard none of it.

Cats parted around her, giving her a wide girth as she padded blankly forward to Mintbreeze. She stared into his brown eyes, filled to the brim with worry and sadness. Giving a nod, she made the sound of Darkpelt's name on her tongue. She did not hear it, but he seemed to. Another nod and a call to the crowd, and Darkpelt moved forward and touched his shoulder against hers, not ready when Splitrain almost collapsed.

Driftswipe raced to them and gave her other shoulder to aid Splitrain in standing before she began to go into shock.

A ringing approached her ears as the other clans began to reluctantly file out. Scarred apprentices clung to the sides of mothers and fathers, elders and mentors.

This was not a night that any cat would be able to forget. Two leaders, dead in one night, with two young cats assuming the new ending of '-star' to their names, and a war declared between Shadowclan and Riverclan, all during a Gathering.

Most of Shadowclan stayed long after everyone else had left, only a few leaving to notify the warriors still at camp.

Mintbreeze also left to grab herbs for shock, and to prepare traveling herbs for Splitrain and Darkpelt.

They would leave for the Moonstone at sunhigh the following day.

A vigil was held for Sharpstar where she lay. Warriors collected lavender from near the marshes of Riverclan, bringing them back along with basic herbs for healing, which they said a Thunderclan patrol brought.

With the lavender in her russet fur, Sharpstar had lost the sent that Splitrain would never again smell, and stole away the last of the warmth that clung to her still form.

Resting her muzzle in the bent neck of her savior, she keened a low, pained yowl full of sadness and grief. Her clan mates around her took up the call, mourning to the stars and the moon, to the cloudless sky, and to the destruction of Riverclan.