it's hard to sleep. squirrelrise lays in her nest, curled into a tight ball with her tail shielding the lower half of her face. she wants to sleep, desperately. though, even after pushing down the fears of nightmares and accepting that she shouldn't carry such unnecessary guilt — actually falling asleep is difficult. so, here she lays, gazing out of the warrior's den into the darkness of the clearing, only illuminated by the moonlight. her eyes threaten to close, until she's certain she sees a figure leaving camp. huh?
they say curiosity killed the cat. there's a bad feeling she can't shake off though, and the warrior finds herself slipping out of her nest and leaving the den silently. her ears swivel as she exits the camp, padding through the territory in what she can only hope is the right direction. she's always been hyper vigilant when it comes to being out of camp, and it's only worse when it's night. it's dead silent save for the sound of a far off owl, fur bristling as she continues to travel.
she slows to a stop, frowning. maybe I should go back to camp, she considers, only for her ears to twitch when they catch a sound. it's an odd sound that she doesn't recognize at first, but then it registers— crying. her eyes widen, stepping in the direction of the sound. her heart sinks at the scent of blood that wafts through the air, both old and fresh. her paws carry her as fast as her mind races towards the destination, careful to not trip over any tree roots. pushing through some shrubs, there was the sickening yet stale scent of dog— and oh. oh stars. the sight that awaits her has her stomach twisting and turning, legs threatening to give out underneath her.
gutspaw. curled around a mixture of old blood and clumps of familiar fur that fails to fully register in her mind, too focused on the crumbling gutspaw. bite dug it's claws into its own flesh and drawing blood. the sobs were like something she's never heard before, so full of pain that she wants to start bawling right then and there with it. she can't..she has to do something-
"gutspaw!" squirrelrise chokes out, trying to ignore the painful tightening of her chest. she can't give in to the panic that threatens to consume her, she has to focus on gutspaw. oh stars. bite must've been the one to leave camp. "th-this – you – wh-wha–" she sputters, inching closer to the tabby. she doesn't know what to do. a frantic glance towards the pile of blood and fur. calico fur. calico fur. blood. dog. she feels dizzy, desperately trying to draw in a much needed breath only to fail once she realizes. why else would gutspaw be crying? goopywhisker. dead.
goopywhisker is dead.
"...n-nno.." she croaks. it's the first thought that runs through her mind and she bites back a sob. no body, no bones even left. just clumps of fur and a pile of old blood. it's definitely not recent, and she can only wonder how long he must've suffered. the whole world threatens to collapse inwards on her. was there something she could've done? he must've went out of camp at night. she can't fathom the idea of this happening in broad daylight and none of her clanmates hearing it. unless..unless someone was evil – no, too much of a coward to help.
or maybe it's starclan's version of some cruel joke. they like to do that a lot. why does starclan allow such horrible things to happen? aren't they powerful? goopywhisker had done nothing but be a wonderful warrior, an amazing cat and this – this is what he gets?!
she hates them. she hates starclan so much right now. she's so angry and so upset she doesn't know what to do.
there's a high chance he's dead and she knows it. but gutspaw is goopywhisker's sibling and a friend and she's not sure what else to do other than try to convince it otherwise.
"g-gutspaw," she rasps, ignoring the hot tears pouring down her cheeks as she leans down to try to gently nose the apprentice. "we don't – it - it's not.." stars, she's not good at this, especially when she can barely breathe and choking out sobs. she wants her mama. she wants to be a kit again. anything but this. still, she feels like she has a job so she crouches down, attempting to nudge gutspaw gently. bushy tail flicking to rest over its curled body. just anything to get bite to stop digging it's claws.
"h-he..he could b-be," sob, "al-alive, s-ssso many cats have," sob, "have s-survived w-worse, he could've – goopywhisker c-could have..he –" her heart hearts so, so bad. "maybe - maybe he..hhhe escaped a-and wandered..to..to the b-borders. a twoleg..c-could have.. found - found him..s-ssomething." she wishes. oh, she wishes that's what happened, but she knows deep down that it's unlikely. even if she's heard of cats surviving worse, coming back from the dead, she struggles to find a sliver of hope all while she's trying to provide gutspaw some.
"I - I don't kn-know," she whispers, voice barely audible as it ends in a sound that's a mixture of a whimper and a sob. she's never felt so weak before.