Song that really describes Stormy about Bella
's death in this chapter and maybe for the next couple of chapters.Stormy
slept on the that ledge that night, not caring how close he was to the edge at all. Rye
didn't share much of a concern, either. All either of them could do was grieve for the love, the friend, the companion, the best-friend, and the sibling they would never have again. Rye had only know her for a half-moon, but still grieved. She had been an untamed and growing soul. She was kind and never consistent. That was important to him. She had been important to him, for the short time he had known her. He had stayed up all night, making sure Stormy was OK and not nearing the edge anymore than he was.
Stormy had no more tears to lose, as he was dehydrated and sick. He had cried all night and hadn't drunk much water before. He didn't want to move and just didn't see a reason to. Rye was there and hopefully Rye would watch him die. He just didn't want to be there without her. She had meant the world to him... Literally. She had opened his life and plucked him out, to be free and she saved him. She had saved him, teaching him and making him learn. He realized he was babbling on in his own mind, making him just as insane as he was sick.
He choked a rabid sob, trying to hold it back. It made him hiccup. He lost her... It was his fault. He never apologized. He wished he had so badly... It was his fault. His fault. He choked back another sob and tried to stand. His legs were so weak, through. Rye rolled his eyes. He was the strongest cat he knew, but could he carry this almost grown but still small cat down the mountain and back to the larger pond they had discovered with Bella? It had plentiful prey and water, something that looked like Stormy needed. He looked sick and stuff... What did he know!? He would do his best to take him there regardless.
"Alright, Bud. I know you're sad, but you need to drink something. We're going back." Stormy only turned to look him in the eyes with the most pitiful look he could muster. He couldn't talk, his body was so devoid of fluids. Rye rolled his eyes. "Please, don't do that." He was very uncomfortable around Stormy right now, only because he hadn't lost anyone before and Stormy was hurting so much. He lifted up Stormy by the scruff, and tried carrying him best he could. He managed to, but barely.
He walked back with Stormy like that for half the length the sun travels between dawn and sundown. He was panting heavily and had to take many breaks before they got there. He finally set his body down by the pond and splashed water onto the young one's face. "Alright. I dragged you here. You're not dying on me, too. You would have made me waste all my breath. Now, drink." He meowed commandingly in a strong tone of voice that suggested Stormy better drink. Stormy rolled, sticking his face in the water. His creamy brown face fur was drenched by the time he came back up for air and had drunken water. He was still sick, but felt much better. He didn't feel like he was stuck in a desert.
"Thanks, Rye." His voice cracked the first time he tried using it, but it worked when he tried a second time. He felt the tears well in his eyes again as he thought about her. "Bel...." He didn't make it through her name because it hurt too much to speak. Not because he was sick, but because he was too choked up with grief to speak. It just hurt so much... Rye was already out and hunting. Of course. This master hunter made sure that his companions were always fed on this trip. He did it because 10% of him cared about them and the other 90% just wanted to prove how much better of a hunter he was than them. Now, it seemed... like it was reverse. That 90% wanted to keep his friend fed. Maybe 99% did. He didn't have time to think about that, though.
Storm stood next to Rye, his face the definition of stoic. It was only a couple of dawns later. He no longer called himself Stormy and requested that Rye call him Storm. He protested that Stormy wasn't practical... Also, what's better for a serious heart than a serious name? Storm described the cloud that hung over his head and wrapped around his heart. He felt like he could not breathe, could not move, could not love without thinking of her. Her, the one he killed and the one he forgive too late. The one he blamed himself for.
Storm and Rye had passed that horrible ledge that Bella had fallen off of and were trying to make up for the lost time. Storm felt that he had to make it to the clans, for her. He would never love and if kits were ever an option he would name them after her. He just felt so wrapped in guilt... Rye was a different matter.
The word simplistic would give Rye too little credit and, yet the word grieving would also give him too much credit. He held her in his mind as a constant reminder of survival and carelessness. He used her to describe what happens when you weren't careful. Of course, he was sad that he had lost her. He just wasn't... Upset. Rye is a hard case to describe and always will be. The two grieved so differently, it was hard to really discuss the subject without a fight. No matter- It never came up, even though it should be deeply discussed.
"Storm... Do you hear it?" Storm froze, immediately looking into the sky. He had been on edge about predators from the sky since... Rye shook his head, "No. Not there. I mean a kit. Do you hear it? The mewling? Do you think it's hurt? Why would there be a kit here, regardless... It's too cold and-" "Rye. Shut up. Let's just go look for the kit." Storm angrily shut him off, aggravated by his constant rambling. Sometimes, that cat just couldn't stay quiet.
They rounded a turn, finding exactly what they heard. A small, pale gray kit. It was so small, so pitiful... It still held milk scent. Rye raced forward, calming the kit and licking its head and pelt, "Shhh, little one. Shhhh...." He whispered. Storm stared at Rye and the tiny kit, his eyes widening in disbelief. "Rye! You didn't tell me you were a she-cat. You also didn't tell me that you took care of foster kits." He bit his bottom lip with his bottom fang nervously as he watched Rye groom and coddle the pitiful scrap. What was he doing? He didn't know where that kit came from, who it belonged to, what it could do.....
SURPPRISEEEE! Didn't think I would post a chapter tonight, huh? Remember. Any characters you want in the story? Send to me? Plot twists, things you want to see, plots, MEHHHHHH.