Chapter 35-

The early morning is fresh and pleasing, and Flickerpaw stretches, mouth parting in a yawn. He tastes the scents of the morning; grass, dew, bird, and the warmth of the sun. It smells- and looks- serene and calm, and the camp slowly wakes with the sun, yawning and stretching. 

Flickerpaw slowly arches his back in a final stretch, ears pricking to hear the beautiful bird song and the comforting patters of rain. Instead the tom hears gasps and a panicked voice. 

Sagesong.

Instantly the camp bursts with action and bustle, a stark contrast to the previous calm period of morning. Why does Flickerpaw's brother bring chaos with him where he walks? But this time, it doesn't seem to be his fault. 

Sagesong arrives, gasping for air and releasing a scared looking Cricketkit. The kit scampers behind his mother, hyperventilating in panic. "Aloestar...Aloestar... She's missing! She's go-" Fringestrike shushes her kit, curling a protective tail around her young and glaring at Sagesong. 

"What did you do-" 

"We fought!" Sagesong blurts, interrupting, and he looks truly distraught, "We fought over...and...and-" Smoothpearl rushes forward, but her eyes aren't cold as they usually are when approaching Sagesong. They are warm and concerned and scared. 

"I don't... I don't know. I stormed out towards camp and she must've been looking for me... It's all my fault." Sagesong's tears mix with the rain streaming down his face and weighing down his whiskers. Flickerpaw instantly rushes forward. His mother is gone. And this time, he trusts Sagesong. Because he's crying. When has Sagesong cried before? Definitely not recently. 

Smoothpearl and Flickerpaw stand by, and Flickerpaw's thoughts spin. Where could his mother be? Lost in the hazy rain, in danger somewhere? Flickerpaw shudders, knocking the thought from his head. Aloestar wouldn't get lost. She'd have to still be close, looking for Sagesong in the storm. Yes, if they just left now... 

"Organize a search party, now!" Smoothpearl orders no cat in particular, "Cr-Cracklight, can you do it? Please?" The she-cat's voice is desperate, begging, causing Cracklight to nod with a sympathetic look on his face, one that Flickerpaw almost doesn't recognize. 

"Um, uh, of course, Smoothpearl. Fallowshard, Orejump, Cliffstoop, please come." The patrol groups together, eyes wide and panic radiating from them. Flickerpaw doesn't understand fully. Why would Aloestar just run off to search for Sagesong. It isn't like her. Couldn't she trust Sagesong to find his way back. 

No, she couldn't. 

Yes. Sagesong is right. This is his fault. 

"Please let me come," Flickerpaw hears the words come from his mouth, although he is sure he'd only thought them, "I-I have a good nose and...my vision is okay and-" Fallowshard places a comforting tail along Flickerpaw's back, eyes silently beckoning the tom to stop. Flickerpaw does. He's rambling. 

"We all understand," the she-cat says softly, almost whispering, "You're coming." Cracklight nods firmly. He agrees. Flickerpaw breathes in relief, but it doesn't release the pressure in the tom's chest. He still feels claustrophobic, compressed, and oddly, small, unimportant. Flickerpaw can't place the feeling, but it feels helpless, like he's simply just there. Another new feeling sinks in. A tendril of doubt flickers inside of Flickerpaw's stomach, wrapping around his heart and quickening its beats. 

Will they ever find Aloestar? 

                                                                        ~~~

Flickerpaw feels mud sticking to his furry ankles, but he does little to shake it off. Determination burns his muscles. Or maybe that's exhaustion. Flickerpaw has run here, but he feels nothing. No pain, no fatigue, but nothing but emotional anguish. "Aloestar?" 

No cat answers. Only the unrelenting wind reaches Flickerpaw's ears, filling him with dread. All the scent of anything would've been washed away by the rain and wind. Aloestar could've just disappeared like Snapstar, in the same way, and no cat would've known. Nervousness pricks at Flickerpaw. No, Aloestar would've never ran away from her clan; after all what reason would she have? But maybe she got too far from camp, maybe she had to find shelter, and all of her scent is gone. It'd be awful, but what else could've happened? 

Therefore, Aloestar could still be living. Flickerpaw can't think, just look. Just try. 

Flickerpaw pushes forward, through the mud, through the swamp of his fear, and tries to stay alert. He hears nothing but wind, no cat calling back, nothing, so that route is a no go. Smell and sight are his options, and he tries to use them well. His sense of scent is broken into tiny little tendrils of aroma, wind, rain, mud, and iron. Iron. Blood? 

Blood. 

Flickerpaw now doesn't use his senses, only his legs, to catapult forward through the mud, panting but feeling no tiredness. His whole chest collapses inward, pressing on his heart and pumping pure panic and trepidation through the tom. His energy is sucked into only alarm, his senses clogged with the image of the two leaders, Mantis and Funnelstar, standing over a dead Aloestar. The scent of blood gets stronger, stronger, until it feels like the tom must be standing in a sea of gore. 

Flickerpaw looks down. 

Down. Down. Down. 

Blood. Mud. 

Aloestar. 

No. No. 

Nonononono. 

Flickerpaw coughs and vomits. He is sobbing. He hears screams, perhaps his own, he thinks, but they're not. 

"Flickerpaw?" 

Flickerpaw doesn't turn, doesn't recognize. His tears mix with the blood on his paws, the mud. But who would notice? Tears don't matter. They never will. If only they did. 

Aloestar's eyes are closed, like she is simply resting, but she isn't. Because who could sleep like this, covered in blood, fur matted with sticky mud, wounds unhealing. No, no cat can go to Starclan like that. No. She needs to be groomed. Now. 

Flickerpaw fastens his teeth into Aloestar's scruff, ignoring the other form beside him. The white tom pulls back with all his strength, and the mud finally lets Aloestar's body free. Flickerpaw gasps, throwing his head back and pulling harder, muscles shaking with effort. Aloestar slowly slides from the mud puddle. Her hind paws stay in the puddle, but the rest of her body is released from the mud. 

"Flickerpaw," the voice is firm, but it doesn't matter. Aloestar deserves to be clean. She needs to be groomed- 

"Flickerpaw, stop. She has to get back to camp-" 

"Shut up!"  Flickerpaw screams, snapping wildly at the place where the form had been. Cliffstoop's eyes, tired looking and wide, stare back, surprise lacing them. Flickerpaw doesn't apologize. He never will. 

"Flickerpaw, we'll help you groom her, once she gets back to camp, but for now, please let us help you," Cliffstoop insists, her fur bristling slightly. Flickerpaw feels his tail lashing, and he wants to refuse, to insist she gets groomed instantly, because she deserves that much, but, in a way, won't Aloestar stay longer if she isn't groomed? Starclan won't take her dirty, will they? 

"Oh...Okay-" 

Flickerpaw silently trails off, unaware of how exhausted his joints are. He just collapses onto Cliffstoop's side, feeling the vibration of her body as she calls for help. The rest is a blur. Flickerpaw stumbles over mud and then dry land, past charred trees and then little blossoming bushes. Why does new leaf, the season of new babies, flowers, and warmth, hold such death? 

Finally Flickerpaw is put in camp, shoved into a nest, and given an herb he vaguely recognizes as poppy seeds. Flickerpaw licks them up, feeling nothing, tasting nothing. He dozes, but not sleeps. He is conscious, images flashing behind his eyelids and bloody puzzle pieces dancing around his head. Flickerpaw sleeps, finally, but he wakes feeling even more tired. Tumblecry is always nearby, waking him from relentless nightmares that his brain refuses to remember. 

Flickerpaw knows that days blur together, he knows that his siblings must feel the same, and he knows that Starclan must hate him. Why make him keep finding these bodies? Did Flickerpaw do something wrong? He's worshiped Starclan his whole life, like every cat, thanking them at every turn. But now, what is there to thank them for? 

This ends today. Screw you, Starclan.