Post by ~.:Darkheart:.~ on Mar 4, 2009 10:30:48 GMT -5
Darkheart padded out of the warriors' den into the chilly morning air and stretched, her gaze sweeping the clearing. She walked up to the fresh-kill pile, picked up a vole and settled in a relatively sunlit area to warm her pelt. Taking a bite into the cold vole, she etched signs into the hard-packed earth with a claw, looking bored.
Since the badger attack on RiverClan, the camp had felt unbelievably deserted. RiverClanners had died by the time ShadowClan manadged to get a move on, and the outright battle strategy they had come up with had cost the lives of more ShadowClanners. Why couldn't they have listened to her when she had warned them that heads-on battle would just create confusion and advantage the enemy? The huge badgers with their massive paws had just had to walk around the camp to crush each confused furball and destroy more lives. Her best friend, Hawkflight, had been killed; all because of these stupid skirmishes.
But if Darkheart blamed anybody for Hawkflight's death, it was herself. They had promised each other, as soon as 4 moons old, that they would protect each other, that they would watch for one another.
Now Hawkflight was dead.
Now Hawkflight was dead.
Darkheart closed her eyes and concentrated on eating the vole. Bite. Munch. Swallow. She didn't feel any pain - no loss - not even numbness. She hadn't even cried. She didn'T feel a thing, a single thing when she thought of Hawkflight.
Had she lost herself?
Had she lost all feeling, all emotion, everything that made her a cat and not a monster?
The dark-pelted she-cat resumed to eat her vole, seemingly bored and nonchalant.
The camp was empty, now.
She hoped someone wold come to relieve her from her boredom.
Booooredom.
Since the badger attack on RiverClan, the camp had felt unbelievably deserted. RiverClanners had died by the time ShadowClan manadged to get a move on, and the outright battle strategy they had come up with had cost the lives of more ShadowClanners. Why couldn't they have listened to her when she had warned them that heads-on battle would just create confusion and advantage the enemy? The huge badgers with their massive paws had just had to walk around the camp to crush each confused furball and destroy more lives. Her best friend, Hawkflight, had been killed; all because of these stupid skirmishes.
But if Darkheart blamed anybody for Hawkflight's death, it was herself. They had promised each other, as soon as 4 moons old, that they would protect each other, that they would watch for one another.
Now Hawkflight was dead.
Now Hawkflight was dead.
Darkheart closed her eyes and concentrated on eating the vole. Bite. Munch. Swallow. She didn't feel any pain - no loss - not even numbness. She hadn't even cried. She didn'T feel a thing, a single thing when she thought of Hawkflight.
Had she lost herself?
Had she lost all feeling, all emotion, everything that made her a cat and not a monster?
The dark-pelted she-cat resumed to eat her vole, seemingly bored and nonchalant.
The camp was empty, now.
She hoped someone wold come to relieve her from her boredom.
Booooredom.
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