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YOU ONLY GOT ONE LIFE TO LEAD[/style][STYLE=font-family: arial; font-size: 12px; margin-top: -10px; color: #CEC6AA; letter-spacing: 2px; text-transform: uppercase;]SO DON'T TAKE FOR GRANTED THE LITTLE THINGS[/style] [STYLE=font-size: 11px; font-family: arial; margin-right: 13px; margin-left: 13px; text-align: justify; background-color: #99FF99; padding: 13px; color: #000000; margin-top: 6px; opacity: 0.95; margin-bottom: 1px; border-bottom-right-radius: 30px; border-bottom-left-radius: 30px;]
She did not have the strength to sit up with dignity, mourning for a cat whose body they could not even bury. It was as if any semblance of emotional or physical strength had fled her dappled body, Frogpaw reduced to a small, far too quiet creature with her chin resting against her paws, golden eyes awash with an unbearable, soul-shattering pain. First Darkpaw had been injured to protect her - now Boneshadow,
the Clan deputy, her mentor, the cat she'd respected more than anything, had
died to save her and a few other Clanmates. It was impossible not to think of what 'should have happened', of a better alternative to the nightmare she and the rest of NightClan were living in;
Eyes roving to their corners, Frogpaw caught a glimpse of Ravenstar's somber, shellshocked visage, and the younger she-cat visibly flinched, as though struck by the power of their Clan Leader's sadness. It was unbearable. It was
unbearable. Frogpaw scrunched her legs tighter, curling up into a ball, ignoring the presence of her older brother Larchclaw, and her quiet, somber sister Willowflame. He had been their uncle too, but he hadn't died for them, he hadn't been their mentor, he hadn't been so close, and someone for them to look up to...
How was it possible to regret so much in the course of one short life? Frogpaw regretted all the times she acted up, all the times she may have come off as disrespectful or bored, all the times she poked fun at their morning meditation.
Why didn't I listen better? Why didn't I train harder?Why didn't I turn back?It would have been easy to say that she was just following Boneshadow's orders when he told her to run back to camp, but that wasn't true. She had run because she was scared. She had run because she was a coward; no apology so great or so sincere could ever make this better, not even if she said it a hundred times. Feeling a hard lump form in her throat, Frogpaw would have thrown herself at demon a hundred times over, no matter how painful the demise, if it meant Boneshadow could be alive.
A Clan mourning the death of a foolish apprentice was the lesser evil to a Clan and Clan leader
broken at the loss of a deputy, a pillar of strength.
Apart from Boneshadow's niece, there were two other cats who had been deeply affected by the deputy's sudden, but no less heroic death.
Snowlark, who longed to go press her muzzle into Smokefur's plush silvery coat, longing to hear that everything would be okay, that Boneshadow was in a better place, sat in silence by the entrance of the warrior's den. She had...almost fallen in love with him, she was sure of that; they could've been something...
But she wasn't necessarily mourning the loss of a relationship; she was mourning the loss of a beloved pillar of strength for a Clan she had come to give her whole heart and soul to. Snowlark sighed softly around the lump in her throat, body still as she sat in the cold, determined to keep her own vigil as the family of Ravenstar or Boneshadow gathered in the center of camp instead.
Back behind Ravenstar and Smokefur, was a solid black tom with mismatched eyes, his expression somber, with subtle hints of anger in the spiked end of his tail, which wove irate swished patterns against the earthen floor, his fur bristled against the chill of his leader's mood rather than the cold itself. While there was no deputy, while the Clan was in tatters of this awful shock to their system, Blackwolf would be there to pick up the pieces. Not just Ravenstar, either, the sturdy tom observed as he saw Grimpaw take his place beside his two sisters; it was an experience Blackwolf had never had, a cat dying so that he could live.
I wouldn't want that, no matter who it is or what situation. He had decided with definite resolution; though he would stubbornly cling to life, given the chance, Blackwolf would not be comfortable with that kind of weight on his conscience. It would dog him through the rest of his hopefully long, fulfilling life, and that just wasn't something he wanted to deal with. No... If he
had to die before his time, then he was going to die in a fantastic blaze of glory, just as Boneshadow had - either fighting and dying for his Clan, or taking out as many enemies as he possibly could.
They would sing his praises then, and he would be able to watch over them all from StarClan - Shadepaw, Harepaw, Grimpaw, Clawstorm, Dogfang, and even Ratfur - and every time a wolf howled somewhere in the distance, they'd know it was him.
The Clan may have lost a powerful figurehead, but Blackwolf had gained something in all of this grief and confusion and oppressive sadness; a new respect for Boneshadow that he had not had whilst the cat had been living, and a little more understanding of what it meant to truly live and die by the code.
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