Pain. Loneliness. Those were the only things he felt since his twin had died. Sparkpaw's death had left him feeling...nothing. He felt no anger. No sadness. He was a void. Breezepaw was no longer the cat he once was. His fur had become dull, his eyes no longer held the life it once had. He was a no body without his sister. Without his other half. He was just Breezepaw. A dull, lifeless zombie. Despite his best efforts, he knew his clan could see it. They could see his decline. Try as he might, he even barely made it through his training with his mentor, and surely she noticed the moment it started. 

With a sigh, he knew he had to eat. The ginger tabby barely ate much anymore; at times, his fellow apprentices had to force him to even glance at a piece of prey. The young feline carefully stood, ignoring the pop of his joints as he exited the den, squinting at the harsh sunlight. He felt alone in a camp full of cats. His green eyes scanned the area, landing on a newly made warrior; Ashendust. He had kept quiet during their ceremony, the death of Sparkpaw had still been a fresh wound.

His eyes glazed over as he stood there, barely registering she had moved at all. Though, as she pushed the thrush towards him, he snapped out of it, shaking his head to get a grip on reality. With a final glance, he picked up the thrush, making his way to a quiet spot, away from the chatter of the clan, to eat. Despite having no desire to eat, he forced himself to swallow the pieces he ripped from the prey, occasionally glancing back at Ashendust. His ears twitched; why were they giving him food? He didn't understand. His clanmates...they seemed to pity him.

And he felt pathetic. His sister had been dead for a while now...Why wasn't he better? Breezepaw had tried to get over her death, going as far as to attempt to make friends, becoming more social, only for that...To be ruined by the haunting memory that his twin was gone. Why did Starclan have to take her? Why not himself? Why not someone else, someone that didn't matter? He shook his head again, slightly more violently this time, however. He wanted so desperately to forget that she was dead. Just forget her very existence. It would be much better, he thought, if he forgot her, right?

His eyes shifted back to the she-cat once again, head turning. "Yes...?" His voice was raspy from disuse. Breezepaw attempted a small smile, though it quickly fell. He couldn't fake being fine, could he? His clanmates all knew of his suffering. Though, not even the rudest cats within the clan approached him, only looking at him from afar. It was funny, he thought. He used to feel like a clanmate here, in Shadowclan. Now, he felt like an outcast. Was it his fault? It had to be; after all, he had pushed everyone away from him. He couldn't stand their attempts to help. Of course, he appreciated that they cared, he just couldn't get over it.

His ears twitched. Had he heard correctly? The scarred she-cat was known for her antisocial nature, so her offer caught him off guard. He became quite stiff, though forced himself to stand and slowly make his way over, head bowed down. This was odd to him. She had never shown interest in him whatsoever, so why now? Maybe even she pitied him. It hurt him, a bit, to think that even warriors that had no interest in friends would attempt to help him. He didn't want to bother anyone with his problems. His issues. And yet he didn't stop himself as he near crumbled beside the dark she-cat, exhaustion taking over as he lay down, eyes half lidded.

"I miss her. Sparkpaw." He whispered, ears swiveling to lay flat against his head. Breezepaw didn't even see her in his dreams. He could barely remember her scent, her face, her personality. It hurt him so badly. Would losing someone always be like this? If so, he didn't want a family, or friends anymore. He didn't want the pain that came with them dying. The loneliness. The anger. The grief. All of it sucked the very life out of him, and he was oh so tired.

He only shrugged. Breezepaw didn't know if he'd be awake or not; his sleeping schedule was so messed up by that point. He either slept all day, all night, or inbetween, or not at all. The ginger tabby just laid his head down, eyes closing as he listened to his fellow clanmates. They found it easy to move on. He couldn't.

He stirred, snorting as he awoke. Breezepaw blinked, looking around the camp, barely realizing he was not, in fact, in the apprentice den. He was still beside Ashendust, and as he looked to the sky, he realized that it was night. "Oh...Sorry." He said tiredly, pushing himself to stand and shake his head, trying to rid himself of his foggy mind.,

He didn't reply, only shaking out his thick pelt. He didn't understand why this cat was being so kind. Breezepaw glanced at the sky, eyes narrowing at silverpelt. Had his sister made it to Starclan? Surely she had. It's been moons by now.