The Light Of Hope Is Taken [Russethawk/Rushwhisker] Jul 1, 2017 1:43:24 GMT -5
Post by Zeneka on Jul 1, 2017 1:43:24 GMT -5
There'll be no rest, there'll be no love....
He hadn't slept. He hadn't even returned to camp until after dawn. He hadn't known what to do or where to go, but nowhere felt right. So he had wandered RainClan's territory all night, a cry of denial and pain occasionally escaping his jaws as he threw angry, miserable glances up at the stars overhead. He had told Nightsky that Bluejay had been his light, that she had pulled him from darkness. Without her, he could feel himself slipping once more back into that dark place. Even across territories and Clan borders, she had given him hope. Now she was gone, and his hope went with her.
Plodding back into camp, Silverfrost had called him over to assign him to a hunting patrol with Russethawk, Jaycry, and Jaycry's apprentice Blackpaw, suggesting they hurry before the storm rolling in broke. Dark clouds hung forebodingly on the horizon, drawing ever closer. He had given Silverfrost a blank stare, prompting Jaycry to ask him if he was feeling all right and if he should go see Swanfeather.
Bristling, Rushwhisker snapped at the younger tom, “Can Swanfeather bring cats back to life!?” No, but she could certainly inspire cats to kill. Some medicine cat. Jaycry recoiled as if he'd been struck and stared at him as if he'd sprouted another head, Rushwhisker's anger entirely uncharacteristic. Ears flat against his head, Rushwhisker whipped around, a flash of guilt prickling his fur. He hadn't meant to treat Jaycry so harshly. It wasn't his fault.... His anger melted away almost as quickly as it had come and he only sighed, heading back out of camp in silence.
He was exhausted, utterly and completely. His mind was fuzzy, his paws ached, his heart... he willed back that numbness that had overtaken him in his shock the night before. He would rather never feel anything ever again than trying to wade through this pain, thick as marsh mud, cold and clinging and impossible to escape. It was smothering him. He could feel it as though it was sucking him down, closing around his muzzle, seeping into his mouth and nose, suffocating him slowly but surely. And he could not bring himself to fight it any longer. He was far too tired.
He barely registered Jaycry taking Blackpaw, splitting off from the patrol to give his apprentice a short lesson while they fished for the Clan. Russethawk was saying something but it sounded like nothing more than bees buzzing in his ears and he didn't respond. A firm nudge to his shoulder jolted him and he turned to look at his former mentor, concern clear on the older tom's face. “... Huh?” Rushwhisker blinked at him, bewildered.
There'll be no hero in the end who will rise above.