Warm Foothills [closed]

Thick tendrils of steam hung heavily in the twisting rapids of the Gorge, a pale blanket of dampness that effectively concealed the stifling drizzle of chilly rains that had been long-since pelting down from the dreary grey sky. The somber atmosphere of the falls was plagued with the constant low-rumbling of high-flowing currents; the roar and howl of quick-moving waters ringing out sharply, dark waters spilling and frothing hungrily at the rock-encrusted mud of its crumbling riverbanks. It wouldn't be long before the river, and subsequently many shallow sections of the dreaded Gorge, were blanketed in the perilously thin love of the cold season- a thinly-veiled threat of disaster encased within the glimmering weight of ice. It was very unlikely that any WindClan cats would've tried their luck with pushing the borders, considering how effective the river was when it came to deescalating any sort of conflict, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. Hardly any cat felt like dealing with any more border disputes than necessary during this time of year.

Brushing through the prickly and decaying grasses that congregated together in pitiful little clumps, Nettlesplash made certain to keep several tail-lengths of distance between himself and the sharp slope of the riverbank, unfortunately aware of the risk of slippery stones and soft mud. The last way he was hoping to spend his afternoon was to find himself floundering in the current just before the sharp drop of the Gorge. Resisting a shiver at the thought of plunging over the Gorge and to a watery grave below, the massive tom simply continued on his little stroll, occasionally turning to eye Whitepaw- the sole source of this sudden little expenditure. Nettlesplash wasn't exactly an expert on all things in relation to subtly or reading of unspoken words, but it wasn't that difficult to discern that something was ruffling the younger tom's fur. Was it Crakepaw earning his ceremony before Whitepaw? Was it something that the young tom had been hiding? Only the stars could tell with adolescent cats.

"Well?" Nettlesplash eventually prompted, turning an eye towards the younger tom, "Are you gonna spit it out, or do I need to drag it out from you?"

'Oh StarClan give me strength...' The younger tom internally sighed. There was no backtracking now. He had to go into this conversation leaping and with both paws outstretched. He had essentially begged for this to happen with the look he'd given his mentor after Hollypaw's apprentice ceremony concluded. His fate had been sealed. He knew how persistent (and stubborn) Nettle was and he certainly wasn't going to let go of whatever "it" was. Whitepaw was right. He didn't brush it off and here they were. There was one thing that scrambled him up then and was still doing so now. He wasn't so sure why, well, why Nettlesplash? He could've had his chat with his father or mother or anyone else but his mind had screamed at him to ask his mentor for help. He was in dire need for somebody to listen and apparently the tom ahead of him had all the answers. He didn't doubt the amber-eyed warrior's wisdom but perhaps spilling his personal turmoil, the bad and the embarrassing, onto him and expecting a quick and simple solution would be a bit unrealistic.

He startled when the familiar voice of his mentor cut through his thoughts. "Oi! There's no need for that..." he trailed off as he averted his gaze. A flurry of emotions cycled through him as he began to think of how he could even start. Should he just let it all out or should he carefully plan his words? During his brief pondering, he made eye contact, calculating amber orbs met anxious chocolate ones, before letting out a barely audible sigh. His tense posture loosened as he attempted to relax. Well, here goes nothing...

"Lately, I haven't been feeling like myself..." he began, now seated and fully facing the warrior, "I haven't been sleeping or eating well. I feel less motivated and no matter how hard I try, I can't be h-happy like I used to." His voice quivered slightly. He cleared his throat to try and smooth it out but sadly, it only made it feel rougher. It felt dry, as if he hadn't drunken water for days. He kneaded the earth beneath him as an attempt to ground himself. He couldn't let himself fall apart. He wouldn't break. "I-I just can't bring myself out of this. I try and I try but I can't. I miss him, Nettlesplash. I miss him too much. Is it normal to miss someone this much? I should've been there with him. I promised myself i'd be there for him, no matter where and no matter when. I f-failed him when he got his leg injured. I felt like the worst big brother in all the clans. Everytime I saw him limping, I was reminded of how much of a failure I was. I was ashamed." At that point, the apprentice was shaking. His whole body trembled in anguish and misery. It hurt. It hurt more than any wound ever could. His brother was dead because of him. He failed him. He failed his family. How could he even look them in the eyes? He was disgusted with himself. Without his own consent, he continued, "I should've been there for him when he was going out while injured. I should've been the one to look after him. But look at what happened! Look at what happened to my poor brother. He. Drowned. He couldn't swim with that stupid injured leg. He didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves it but him especially. He was always so cheerful, so full of life. His injury brought him down but he was strong. He kept going. He didn't give up. He trusted me to help him and keep him from trouble. I-I don't know. I don't know why I betrayed his trust. He wasn't meant to die. He wasn't meant to leave us. Waterpaw was never meant to leave me." He now had his head was bowed, eyes closed and body shaking harder than before. He let out a choked sob. There was no use in holding himself back. All his fears and pain, all those nights he couldn't sleep because of nightmares, came flooding out in the form of uncontrollable tears. He broke. He hunched into himself, unable to hold steady anymore. His head was pressed against the ground. He was in pain. Oh StarClan, make it stop.

He slowly raised his head to look at Nettlesplash once again. Shell-shocked brown eyes stared back at the warrior's own. They pleaded for relief, for comfort...for something. He didn't want to feel like this anymore. He took in a shaky breath, words ready on his tongue, "Nettlesplash, help me. Make it s-stop. Make the pain stop. I-I want it to stop. Please..." he croaked in the most pitiful and defeated voice. Please don't leave me too...