Chapter 8

                                    

                                          
Snowpaw woke and groggily blinked his eyes. The sunlight splashed around him as it shone through the den. The pink evening sky dappled the ground and turned his sister's pelt the same colour as Yellowleaf's. She looked just like her sometimes. He inhaled sharply, the sadness still raw in his heart.

                          
She stirred, but didn't wake. Snowpaw didn't want to leave the den. He didn't want to see anyone or feel anything. He closed his eyes, but he slept fitfully as confusing dreams crowded his mind. 
                          
Crows and ravens swooped down on him menacingly, cawing loudly and abrasively. They pecked at him, tearing small, but painful wounds in his skin. Suddenly they flew off in a flurry of wings and Snowpaw was surrounded by and empty black void. He whimpered in fear as the blackness pressed down around him, thick and cold.
                          
Snowpaw slept for a whole day waking only a few times. He was weary and cold and his mind was hazy and unfocused. The young apprentice was plagued by terrible dreams and felt as if he didn't even sleep at all. Emberpaw lay slumbering beside him the whole time, as still as a rock.
                          
When he awoke two mornings later he stood stiffly and shook out his pelt. Making up his mind to try his best not to sleep all day, he stepped out into the clearing. Cats were milling around the camp murmuring quietly to each other. Whitemoss and Stiffwhisker gave Snowpaw such a look of pity that he shrunk away from their gaze. Flowerpaw avoided eye contact as she cleared out the elders' bedding.
                          
Flameclaw was sending Badgerclaw, Robintalon, Meltwater, and Rainwhisker out on patrol. Their pelts looked dull as they padded slowly past Snowpaw. Specklepelt's kits were quiet and wide-eyed as if even they knew something was wrong. Mistshade and Cloudpaw were sharing tongues near the medicine den and Sleetstar was lying on a limb of the Great Maple distractedly staring at the ground. The whole clan was feeling the loss.
                          
Snowpaw stepped forward crossing the clearing reluctantly and peeked his head into the warriors' den. Lizardbelly and Starnose were still asleep, but Charfur was sitting in his nest grooming his pelt. He looked up in surprise as Snowpaw nosed his way in.
                          
"I'm sorry for what I said yesterday," he whispered, so as not to wake the sleeping warriors. "I'm still upset, but I'm sure you did all you could to... to save them," he choked out. The apprentice looked down, but when Charfur let out an emotional throaty purr, relief washed over him.
                          
"Thank you Snowpaw, that means so much to me. I'm so sorry and I wish I could have done something more." His mentor sighed; he stood and shooed Snowpaw out of the den. Charfur glanced back quickly at Lizardbelly, then followed him out into the cold leaf bare air. 
                          
"Are you okay to go out?" Charfur asked hesitantly. "I can give you more time to grieve, but I want to take you hunting. We've got to keep moving forward with your training despite everything that happened." Charfur tilted his head towards the entrance tunnel. 
                          
Snowpaw knew his mentor was right, but his heart wasn't in it. But as he thought back to this morning he realized that going back to his nest wouldn't do him any good. He hunched his shoulders, but didn't answer.
                          
"Come on, Snowpaw, you can do anything, I know you're a strong young cat." Charfur pushed.
                          
"Alright," he slowly agreed. 
                          
Snowpaw followed his mentor out into the dense forest. Charfur was being very kind to him by walking slowly to let him keep up, but he just wasn't able to focus. His paws were heavy and they scuffed the snow as he walked. He knew he had to work hard, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
                          
Charfur offered him the first kill. He had told him to stalk a robin chirping on the root of a tree. Snowpaw did his best to crouch and focus on catching the little bird. His eyes burned with tiredness. As he got closer he misjudged the leap, landing short, and the bird flew away in a flurry of flapping wings.