pic by CitizenFresh on Deviantart
proloɢυe
Mistclan lay in ruins. New-leaf was only just coming, the first animals in hibernation were stirring, the first fresh grass was pushing through the melting snow. The clan had been thriving, there had been new kits born, and the fresh-kill pile was finally starting to fill up again. Had been.
If there hadn’t been the avalanche that flooded the camp at sun-high one warm New-Leaf day. The day had started normally, no different from all the other New-leaf days in that year. Patrols were sent out while kits tumbled around the camp. It was a large clan, with excellent hunters, the reason twhy most of the clan, except a few that had fallen sick, had survived the past Leaf-bare.
Eaglefeather, Mistclan deputy, had come back from hunting patrol, a marmot, one of the first that year, in his jaws.
I dropped my prey onto the gradually growing fresh-kill pile .It almost physically hurt to let it drop down, to take the taste out of my jaws. But everyone would welcome the prey, especially the hard-to-catch marmots. Fighting with myself, I backed away from the fresh-kill pile, and then to it again; there would be more marmots this New-leaf, in fact they were easier to catch in this season because most were still sleepy from their hibernation. Eventually, my problem was solved by three kits; Blackkit, Echokit and Stonekit, 4 moons old. They had barely known warmer days, and could be seen outside every day, from sunrise to sundown, basking and playing in the sun, along with the two younger apprentices Duskpaw and Ashpaw. On days the weather had decided to turn they would sit in the entrance of the nursery, staring out wistfully into the rain or snow, occasionally praying to Starclan for sunshine. The lucky things. They could sit there in the well-isolated nursery, with dry pelts and warming themselves by their mothers tummy, dreaming of being a warrior. They would feel exactly the opposite way soon, like I would on those days; dreaming of being a kit again, warm, dry and lying by my mother, who had long departed for Starclan.
The kits simply grabbed the marmot and started dragging it to the nursery. ”what do you think you are doing?” I asked quietly. They wilted under my stare, and I realized I’d sounded too sharp, too intent of getting the marmot for myself. “I-it’s for Cindershadow and Swiftfoot” Echokit, who, despite that fact that she was the smallest, was the boldest of the three replied. “Go on then” I sighed. All three smiled and continued dragging the marmot to the nursery, which was almost as large as one of them.´
I found a smile slip onto my face as a turned away, towards the camp entrance; I had heard the border patrol arriving. Not that it was really important in these mountains. Very few cats lived here, except us. I think it is almost impossible to live in these mountains alone, or even with a few allies. Most cats simply crossed over the mountains, often encountering our clan and, half-starved, ask for help.
It was a rumbling that told me something was wrong. At first I ignored it, and turned to the patrol. There has been nothing out of the ordinary, just a few small avalanches throughout the territory our ancestors had established a long time ago. It should have warned me. I still ignored it, Starclan knows why, but I did, until Bramblemask cried out and gaped at the mountain towering above our camp. I turned around, a sinking feeling in my stomach.
There it was; the source of the rumbling, the source of Bramblemasks terror. An avalanche. I should have known what it was, I should have looked up earlier. But there was no time for this “Avalanche!” I screeched, and throughout the camp every cat froze.”Evacuate the camp!” Hawkstar said, loudly, with the authority of a leader, and with a slight touch of panic to it, but still fairly calm, considering the situation.
Every cat moved to the entrance, but it was too narrow for more than two at a time. The kits were still struggling out of the nursery along with their mother. The Elders, Hazeclaw and Icestorm, seemed to have accepted their death, and had not even bothered to move to the entrance, only standing to quickly nudge Echokit to her mother. I was amazed by their calmness in the face of death. I was torn, once more whether to run to the entrance away from the avalanche or to wait until the others had passed. Glancing once again at Hazeclaw and Icestorm, I made my decision.
I ran towards the entrance , which had now become the only exit.
”Get out next” I told Hawkstar, and when he protested I followed through the hardest decision I had ever made in my life. “I’ll see everyone out” I answered, pushing my leader through the entrance after his kit, Eaglepaw. He had seen his mate die already, many moons ago. The avalanche was nearing, but half of the cats were still inside. The air was full of mews of misery and farewells. I spotted the kits still inside camp. Why hadn’t Hawkstar sent them out first?
I was about to ask why they weren’t going when Cindershadow met my gaze, and I understood. She had never recovered from her father’s death, and her mates death short afterwards. She no longer had a will to live. Not to the point of purposefully throwing herself from the mountaintop, but she was in enough inner pain to help other cats out of camp before herself. But her kits could go, couldn’t they? No...
She would never leave them, and in a way this was selfish to them, but to loose their mother at this age, and to see so many deaths seemed a harsh destiny for ones so young. Starclan would judge Cindershadow for it, but I don’t know how harshly. All know the pain of loosing someone, and seeing the ones they loved break apart because of their passing.
The avalanche arrived.
proloɢυe
Mistclan lay in ruins. New-leaf was only just coming, the first animals in hibernation were stirring, the first fresh grass was pushing through the melting snow. The clan had been thriving, there had been new kits born, and the fresh-kill pile was finally starting to fill up again. Had been.
If there hadn’t been the avalanche that flooded the camp at sun-high one warm New-Leaf day. The day had started normally, no different from all the other New-leaf days in that year. Patrols were sent out while kits tumbled around the camp. It was a large clan, with excellent hunters, the reason twhy most of the clan, except a few that had fallen sick, had survived the past Leaf-bare.
Eaglefeather, Mistclan deputy, had come back from hunting patrol, a marmot, one of the first that year, in his jaws.
I dropped my prey onto the gradually growing fresh-kill pile .It almost physically hurt to let it drop down, to take the taste out of my jaws. But everyone would welcome the prey, especially the hard-to-catch marmots. Fighting with myself, I backed away from the fresh-kill pile, and then to it again; there would be more marmots this New-leaf, in fact they were easier to catch in this season because most were still sleepy from their hibernation. Eventually, my problem was solved by three kits; Blackkit, Echokit and Stonekit, 4 moons old. They had barely known warmer days, and could be seen outside every day, from sunrise to sundown, basking and playing in the sun, along with the two younger apprentices Duskpaw and Ashpaw. On days the weather had decided to turn they would sit in the entrance of the nursery, staring out wistfully into the rain or snow, occasionally praying to Starclan for sunshine. The lucky things. They could sit there in the well-isolated nursery, with dry pelts and warming themselves by their mothers tummy, dreaming of being a warrior. They would feel exactly the opposite way soon, like I would on those days; dreaming of being a kit again, warm, dry and lying by my mother, who had long departed for Starclan.
The kits simply grabbed the marmot and started dragging it to the nursery. ”what do you think you are doing?” I asked quietly. They wilted under my stare, and I realized I’d sounded too sharp, too intent of getting the marmot for myself. “I-it’s for Cindershadow and Swiftfoot” Echokit, who, despite that fact that she was the smallest, was the boldest of the three replied. “Go on then” I sighed. All three smiled and continued dragging the marmot to the nursery, which was almost as large as one of them.´
I found a smile slip onto my face as a turned away, towards the camp entrance; I had heard the border patrol arriving. Not that it was really important in these mountains. Very few cats lived here, except us. I think it is almost impossible to live in these mountains alone, or even with a few allies. Most cats simply crossed over the mountains, often encountering our clan and, half-starved, ask for help.
It was a rumbling that told me something was wrong. At first I ignored it, and turned to the patrol. There has been nothing out of the ordinary, just a few small avalanches throughout the territory our ancestors had established a long time ago. It should have warned me. I still ignored it, Starclan knows why, but I did, until Bramblemask cried out and gaped at the mountain towering above our camp. I turned around, a sinking feeling in my stomach.
There it was; the source of the rumbling, the source of Bramblemasks terror. An avalanche. I should have known what it was, I should have looked up earlier. But there was no time for this “Avalanche!” I screeched, and throughout the camp every cat froze.”Evacuate the camp!” Hawkstar said, loudly, with the authority of a leader, and with a slight touch of panic to it, but still fairly calm, considering the situation.
Every cat moved to the entrance, but it was too narrow for more than two at a time. The kits were still struggling out of the nursery along with their mother. The Elders, Hazeclaw and Icestorm, seemed to have accepted their death, and had not even bothered to move to the entrance, only standing to quickly nudge Echokit to her mother. I was amazed by their calmness in the face of death. I was torn, once more whether to run to the entrance away from the avalanche or to wait until the others had passed. Glancing once again at Hazeclaw and Icestorm, I made my decision.
I ran towards the entrance , which had now become the only exit.
”Get out next” I told Hawkstar, and when he protested I followed through the hardest decision I had ever made in my life. “I’ll see everyone out” I answered, pushing my leader through the entrance after his kit, Eaglepaw. He had seen his mate die already, many moons ago. The avalanche was nearing, but half of the cats were still inside. The air was full of mews of misery and farewells. I spotted the kits still inside camp. Why hadn’t Hawkstar sent them out first?
I was about to ask why they weren’t going when Cindershadow met my gaze, and I understood. She had never recovered from her father’s death, and her mates death short afterwards. She no longer had a will to live. Not to the point of purposefully throwing herself from the mountaintop, but she was in enough inner pain to help other cats out of camp before herself. But her kits could go, couldn’t they? No...
She would never leave them, and in a way this was selfish to them, but to loose their mother at this age, and to see so many deaths seemed a harsh destiny for ones so young. Starclan would judge Cindershadow for it, but I don’t know how harshly. All know the pain of loosing someone, and seeing the ones they loved break apart because of their passing.
The avalanche arrived.
