His World Came Crashing Down

Title: His World Came Crashing Down
Character(s): Ghostpaw (kit), Roosterfeather { Me }, Duskstar { KingKinu }, the black tom (Shademelt) { Attack-On-Tacos }
World: Eclipse of the clans (Warrior cats)
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    Everything was fine, he was fine, his mother was fine. He wasn't here right now, this was just some sort of dream, some sort of nightmare because this wasn't happening. His mother was fine, he was fine, everything is fine. His mother wasn't just ripped to shreds in front of him, that wasn't her blood dripping from the fox's gaping mouth. Oh no, soon he would wake up, and she would still be there. She would ask him if anything was wrong, he would see she was just fine and he would tell her "No, everything is just fine" and he would be fine.
    They would continue their adventure to no where in particular. They would continue their trek to the ends of the earth. Through wide valleys, dark caverns, thick forests, and over tall mountains. He would get older and learn how to take care of himself, as if he couldn't do a good enough job already but he could be better, he would be better. Even if he could live on his own, he would still travel with her, two heads are better than one after all. They would stay together, that was the plan, this isn't the plan! It couldn't be real but... it was, he knew it was.
    That was her blood dripping from that fox's maw, her blood that stained the ground around them, her blood that had stained his grey and white fur. He was frozen, starring at the red stained white that was it's teeth. Why wasn't he doing anything? He was a sitting mouse. At least try to fight or runaway! He couldn't though, he just felt himself freeze up in the danger with his tail between his legs.
    He heard a call, and suddenly a small group of cats rushed in. Most of them went after the fox and chased it away. One of them, a ginger tom, stopped and asked him if he was okay, he could only offer a wide-eyed stare as a response refused to form in his mind. Anther cat, this one a black tom, was inspecting his mother, he shook his head and turned to his ginger companion.
    "She's already dead, there's nothing we can do for her." The words sent a shiver down the kit's spine, he was only 3 moons old, he never had had any death happen in his life. His father was a kitty pet, and refused to leave his two-leg to travel with his mother. His mother was all he had ever really known, sure they had met other cats on their journeys but they never stayed long with them. He had been holding on to a tiny shred of hope that she would still get up, but he knew it was futile. It was obvious that there was no chance, and no amount of hoping could change that. Those words of the black tom were what shattered any hope he may have had left.
    The ginger looked down at him with sympathetic look. He wanted to scratch that look off of his face. That stupid look that didn't change anything, that stupid look that didn't make him feel better but in fact made him feel worse. That stupid look that... made it all come crashing down. The look that showed that he pitied him, the look that showed that he was in a better situation. The look he had time to give because he wasn't busy with his own problem and instead could poke into someone else's.
    He felt anger bubbling up inside of him, that pit of magma in his stomach. This was all so wrong, and he had no idea how to make it right. He could feel himself shaking, he pushed his claws into the ground and tried to hold himself together. He knew it wasn't this cat's fault, it wasn't any cat's fault, it was that mouse dung of a fox's fault that this happened.
    "Are you okay?" The ginger asked again. The kit looked up, but seeing his face made all those feelings come rushing back towards him.
    "Roosterfeather! of course he isn't okay. He just lost his mother, come on, let's bring him back to camp." The cats that had chased off the fox had returned. One of the cats was limping and a couple of the others had scratches, but nothing serious. Why had they gotten off so easily when his mother had been killed? He bit his lip and tried, but failed, to take a deep breath. He tried again and let out a shuttered exhale.
    "We're going back to camp, Roosterfeather, you take the kit." The black tom turned his head to the other cats in their group. "The rest of you, help me carry the mother's body back. She deserves a warrior's burial for sacrificing her life to save the kit." He felt the warrior, apparently named Roosterfeather's teeth on the back of his neck before being lifted off of the ground. He didn't fight the warrior as he carried him to where ever their destination was. He was too focused on what the black tom had said, he had said it as if it was noble. There was nothing noble about sacrificing yourself, at least not when that sacrifice had left the one who was saved feeling as empty as it did him. Might as well let them both be killed so no one felt guilty about still being alive. What was the point of living if you're just a shell of your former self?
    This didn't need to happen, things could have been different. If only he had helped his mother then maybe they would both be fine. The warriors probably would have still showed up and he and his mother would just say no to joining their group and they could just continue their adventures like normal. This whole fox situation would just be one little hiccup in their travels. She had trained him to be able to defend himself but when the time came he just froze up. These warrior cats could have shown up sooner, maybe if they had been faster they could have saved her. If she had just ran when she saw the fox maybe they could have run away in time. All these different scenarios plagued his mind so he hadn't noticed their arrival to the camp until he had been dropped on to the ground.
    The "camp" was bustling with energy as cats of all colors, shapes, and sizes ran about the camp doing their business. There was a multitude of dens scattered around the area and at the center there was a small pile of fresh kill. Things seemed to take a pause however as the cats in the camp seemed to notice their new arrival. Heads turned to see his small, mostly white, and bloodstained body followed by the dead light grey and much more bloodstained body of his mother being carried by multiple cats. Many questions started to follow, as the cats crowed around them.
    Is he okay? What happened! Is she dead? Where did they come from? Why are they covered in blood? Who are they? Are they from anther clan? From the sanctuary? Are they rouges? The questions did not stop but did grow quieter and much less frequent as a large brown queen pushed her way through the crowd and to the black tom, they shared some hushed whispers before the large brown cat walked towards him.
    "Welcome to Moonclan, I'm Duskstar, and I guess you'll be staying with us, kid. Unless you want to end up like your poor mum. What should we call you by?" He wasn't sure how to respond. He felt like the words were stuck in throat, he bit his lip again and looked around. All that cats were looking at him, waiting for his answer.
    "You do have a name don't you? If your mother loved you enough to sacrifice herself surly she must have given you a name?" Gabe, Gabe was his name, he was never a big fan of his name. He was named after his father, the father he had never known, the father who refused to leave his comfortable life for his mate. Still it was what she named him, but was he really Gabe anymore? No, he didn't feel like Gabe, what did he feel like? He felt like he was dead, everything he had once known was now gone, everything was different.
    He opened his month and said the first words he had said since his mother had died. "I'm Ghost, call me Ghost."