WITHERING HERBS || A Warriors Fanfiction

|| chapter twenty

The snow was falling hard now. Before, it was lightly falling, sprinkling itself wherever it wished to. Now, it didn't care where it fell. It just needed to fall. Anywhere.

And, depending on where you looked, a small tuft of dark brown fur, too. Owlpaw picked his way carefully over the heaps of freezing snow, his legs numb with cold. He could barely move them through the frigid substance, his paws sinking instantly down the moment he tried to move. The hare, still in his mouth, had snow crusted all over its fur. Its body was as cold as the snow, no longer the warm body of delectable prey it had been.

Owlpaw thought the snow couldn't fall any harder. He was wrong.

The clumps of snow that fell from the darkened sky seemed to purposefully whisk around him, dancing through the air with cold smiles upon their frosty faces. Suppressing a shiver, he shuffled his paws again to escape the snow that was crowding around his white paws. Warm golden gaze searching around, he spotted the camp's walls not far away.

A spark of relief pricked through him as he finally reached the camp. It was not an easy task to enter it, however. The snow had piled so high that only a bit of the wall was showing, and he had to go great lengths to not sink into the snow. It was a bit firmer here, and that was good. Perhaps his Clanmates were able to stand on it.

Upon entering, he saw nothing. Nobody was here. The entrances to the dens were slightly dug in, he could see, and the tops of them were fallen in. He scented the air, looking around, his entire body cold and aching. His ears flattened as he heard a small, quiet wail.

He followed the noise to where the nursery used to be. Dropping the hare, he peered into the fallen entrance of the den.

"Hello?" whispered Owlpaw.

The faint wail came again, more agonized and terrified than the last. It came again, and again, beginning to swirl up into the air with the snow.

He began to dig, his claws now unsheathed and now caked with frigid snow. He wasn't getting anywhere, and the yowls were getting fainter. Eventually, he plopped himself inside of the hole he'd created and found himself tumbling into the fallen nursery.

After clearing away a little bit of snow, he saw a familiar white pelt with black and gray speckles.

"Heronleap?"

Owlpaw rushed forwards, his eyes widened as he nudged the tom. His body was cold to the touch, and the apprentice recoiled.

"Heronleap! Heronleap? Are you okay?"

A small, strangled whimper came from the tom.

"Heronleap!" He exclaimed, instantly curling around the warrior. Though, he was shrugged off, as Heronleap wiggled away from Owlpaw. He tilted his head, confusion surging through him.

"Heronleap, let me warm you up..." He started, though the warrior had begun to speak.

"No... Owlpaw... l-let me go. I-I want to be with my f-family... Everyone I love is g-gone and I know I have... I know I have you guys but..." He had stopped, his hoarse voice cracking and choking itself.

"It's... not the s-same. I'm sorry... tell everyone I-I'm s-sorry and I w-wish I could s-say g-goodbye... goodbye..."

His voice stopped as a shudder ran down his spine. His body shivering for the last time, he fell still, his light amber eyes still sightlessly gazing ahead.

StarClan, you've taken a whole family away from us. Who's next?

Owlpaw's golden eyes closed, as he fluffed out his fur with a tiny sigh. Grief enveloped him, swallowing him up with a dark growl. He didn't want to move. He couldn't leave Heronleap here, could he? But he couldn't stay here either. There was no way his Clanmates would forgive him if he just left Heronleap here... would they? No. Of course not.

It was their Clanmate. But he couldn't drag Heronleap all around, looking for his Clanmates. Unless they were all lying, struggling to breathe with the snow crowding around them, in their own dens. No. That was impossible, too... right? Heronleap would've said something if his other Clanmates were still here.

Silently, he cursed himself for not asking about it. With a small, quiet, choked, pained sob, he curled up next to Heronleap.

Moments later, he heard a faint noise, strangled and quiet. Standing up, numb with cold and grief, he grasped Heronleap's scruff in his jaws. The tom's cold body was heavy, and despite that, Owlpaw was able to get out of the nursery.

Dragging the still body of Heronleap through the snow, Owlpaw gently placed him in a dip of snow. His entire being felt numb. Heronleap was dead. He was alone in the middle of a snowstorm with a hare that was as cold as the snow around him.

The hare!

His gaze surveying camp, he didn't see any sign of the piece of prey. Beginning to clear away some of the snow with his already snow-clogged claws, he soon spotted the tuft of its frosty fur. Dragging it out, he looked around the deserted camp.

The snow was still falling relentlessly, effortlessly drifting from the dark, cloudy sky and towards the ground where it settled in comfortably in a pile before smiling coldly at its friends, only to be covered by another snowflake.

Yanking the tuft of fur out, he dragged out the frigid body of the hare. Its eyes were crusted over with frost, the usual beadiness gone. He turned to the limp body of his Clanmate and slowly dragged the piece of prey over.

His limbs barely able to move, he looked down and groomed his Clanmate's pelt. Soon, it was smooth and flat against the snow. His shoulders sagging, he put the hare next to Heronleap and nuzzled the tom's cold body.

"I'm sorry," Owlpaw whispered, and feeling as if the snow could swallow him up, he trudged out of camp.