Small enough, at least, for the worst thing to happen to me. To us. Our lives, everything, gone. Enemies lent their shoulders, however, as friends were ripped apart from each other.
I was there, although I don't remember anything. I was left, beaten and broken, as the destruction happened.
If only someone could have gotten there earlier, to warn our once-perfect moment. Then everyone could have escaped treachery's paws; instead... we suffered.
The few things I remembered were the worst: screams, trees crashing, and my mother's look. Her gaze... it haunts me. Her eyes were stretched so wide the whites showed. She had slice-marks across her cheeks - they are still there. The familiar bright sparks in her face were dark and bloody. She had said many things to me, but I didn't - or couldn't - hear any of it. Her bushy, dirty tail swept us out of camp. Her mate, Foxwhisker, looked only half as bad as she did, and together they ran away, with their beloved kits. I was one of those kits.
I've only heard things about that day, never actually remembered it. It's a good thing, though, because from what I have picked up, is the saddest, most wretched thing any cat would want to endure. My mother tells me lots of things, because she remembers it the most. No other cat wants to remember, but she seems unable to even try and forget. I am remembered of my few memories because of one reason, however, and that of which I do rarely speak of.
I am told many tales. Most are about the noble cats everyone remembered, such as that brave leader, oh what was his name... well, anyways, he was a RiverClan cat, and he saved his mate, kits, and the RiverClan elders all in time - only to be killed by a falling tree. He had had 6 lives left, but, unable to get out from under the tree, kept losing lives under the force. Then there was a ShadowClan cat, her name was Ebonyheart, she had actually deserted her kits in the nursery to save herself. Of course, two of the five kits survived because another cat found them and took them. He could only carry two kits, as if that wasn't enough. He told everyone how as he walked away, the other three were trying to catch up. He had pushed away a log blocking the entrance to the nursery, and the kits crawled out. He was faster than them, and couldn't risk getting all six of their lives stolen, so he pushed them into an abandoned badger den and ran off. It sounds cruel, but he had to do it in order for those three to even have a CHANCE at surviving... and later on, it was reported back that they were nowhere to be found. Now, Ebonyheart is pretty much hated, and the tom (by the name of Blacknose) is the two surviving kits' heroes. A new queen nurses them as well.
Featherpaw, a very young apprentice, had tried eagerly to rescue her sister, Sandpaw, but the two ended up having to BOTH get saved because Sandpaw broke both her back legs. Geez, the toms around here are pretty awesome - he wasn't even from their Clan, yet he managed to carry Sandpaw and encourage Featherpaw to come with him. I believe his name was Emberclaw...
Lastly, the one cat I am most proud of, another tom, is my father. Foxwhisker single-pawed carried three kits - me and my two brothers - as my mother carried my sister.
Now it seems the moon barely shines. Clouds usually cover it. The WindClan medicine cat, Goldengaze, says it cannot be uncovered until StarClan gets here. And where exactly is 'here'? A dirty sinkhole-of-a-camp that these cats call home? I don't think so. I will NEVER call this place home. It will always be a reinforcement to me.
Everyone had hopes at first, that maybe we would seperate back to the five Clans, but... those hopes... they're only wishes now.