[Radler]

Greyfrost padded through the Starclan camp, his pelt light and his body more agile than it had ever been. He thought sarcastically to himself, being dead really brings out the best in me. The dark tom, while physically perfect, still felt burdened by his death. He had been hunting a dark leaf-bare morning, hoping to find enough prey so that after the elders and queens had been fed, that there would be some leftover for his father, Thornpatch. He and his kits had been faring the coldest season better than Thornpatch, Greyfrost grew concered with how thin he was looking. But he had slipped on a patch of frost and tumbled in the river, being knocked unconcious from his landing on the ice, and being washed under water as the ice at the center of the river thawed. He had been washed downstream and trapped under and ice shelf in the shadows. While his arrival to Starclan had absolved him of many of his fears, in the times when Greyfrost feels most alone he still recalls the feeling of being trapped under the ice. The amber eyed tom paused mid-stride, and dipped his head to take a moment to steady the tremors shuddering through his legs. The cats of Starclan had been welcoming and empathetic towards him, but his kits, his mate, his parents, his brother still lived. Greyfrost had been the first to go. And while he would not want to inflict his fate on anyone he loves, he felt so lonely.