His body lay in front of her. Mutilated, bloody, bruised, with little fur. His eyes stared.

Even blind, his eyes never stared.

"StarClan." The word whispered out of her mouth without her recognition; it was echoing through her ears, distant...

"I'm sorry, Leafpool." Her father's tail rested gently on her shoulder. "He was a great apprentice. I regret that he never received his full name. He earned it."

"He did," she repeated softly, looking at Firestar without seeing him. "He cannot die. He and his littermates have not fulfilled their destiny. Why did he die?"

The old tom sighed, his emerald eyes glittering dully. "I don't know, Leafpool. I am...so very tired."

She watched him walk away and felt the weight of her heart as she sunk down to the ground and pressed her nose into the once-gray fur of her apprentice. "Jaypaw," she breathed, and closed her eyes. Her face contorted. "It feels like someone is ripping my belly open with razor-sharp claws. It feels as if they are tearing out my heart and destroying it. Shattering it, breaking it. It hurts, Jaypaw. It hurts. Why did you die?"

Another cat settled down beside her and joined her in mourning.

Let them go away. StarClan, please, let them go away!

"I'm sorry, Leafpool."

She jerked her head away as if someone had clawed her muzzle. "Go away, Crowfeather."

His fur brushed hers and heat filled her face. His mew was low, "I'm sorry for everything."

"....What do you mean?" Leafpool sneaked a look at his face, jaw trembling.

"I'm sorry we never made it."

She clenched her teeth. No. No—"This is too much," she hissed, and her ears flattened, she bolted out of the camp. She bolted past the bodies of the wounded and the dead. She bolted past those she was supposed to help, as the only medicine cat ThunderClan still had. She ran away and she didn't look back.

The wind stung her eyes and the brambles snagged her fur and made her bleed. Her heart pounded. She barely noticed and didn't care.

Night was falling, and the birds had stopped singing a long time ago. When the battle began, perhaps. Birds sang for joy; what joy was there left in this world with Crowfeather lost and Jaypaw dead? What was joy?

She hurtled herself at a tree. She hurtled herself—hit it—by StarClan, it hurt. She did not cry out but slowly sank into the moss in front of the tree and stared at the bark. Her bones ached and her muscles protested and she could hardly breathe.

"StarClan," she shrieked.

The darkness crept upon the world. Leafpool watched it and welcomed it when it came. Darkness was her only friend, her only enemy.

"No one."

The darkness eased into existence, and when the sky turned black, her eyes widened.

It was true, then. StarClan had forsaken her.

The sky was starless.