The harmony was broken.
What was once a constant symphony amidst the back of your mind has given way to pure, maddening silence. There was not even a whisper, nor the hum that would settle even in your darkest moments- when the shadow dreams loomed and collared cats who still had kit fluff were slaughtered in front of your yellow eyes before you could awaken.
The concinnity had been there since you were a kit, filling your thoughts with sounds more beautiful than bird-song. It was a lilt when you padded through the wildflowers, the noise warm and inviting. Drifting as you walked. When you chattered with your littermates it was a cadence, uplifting and hyper. It turned into the twitters of birds when you impressed your Clanmates. And the sweet song of your surroundings intermingled and seemed to create their own beautiful harmony.
Similarly, it was a small, dejected coo when you watch your mentor ostracized by the Clan, it turned to a single note of hum when a Clanmate died, the sound dull and flat. Only time would lift that buzz into separate keys before it would soon return to its own colorful music.
It would turn to a pulse similar to a heartbeat in the heat of battle, quick and pounding. Sharp like claws, grating and piercing as you fought for your life, your Clan.
It beat in a chaotic rhythm now, as you watched the overwhelming number of kittypets and strays with wide eyes and slitted pupils. Rosestar, your Clan, everyone - they were far too stubborn for their own good. The collared cats might be weak, but their sheer numbers made up for their lack of formal training easily. There were three house-cats for every Clan member.
We should have quit while we had the chance.
And then a howl cut through your senses, and you turned, slowly-far too slowly- in the direction of the shriek.
You came face to face with bared teeth, drool flying off of the canines like a rabid dog’s, thin white fur with a bloodstained flank. Your gaze moved like it was suddenly drowned in honey, sluggishly inching from the soaring cat’s teeth to his eyes. His eyes, his red, narrowed, angry eyes. You knew him.
The songs stopped.
His claws were centimeters from your face, and you could only think of the sudden disquiet that had settled over your mind, you could hear nothing, deaf to the world and to your thoughts.
But then you were being tackled to the floor, and you felt the white cats claws break the skin of your face, and his fangs sank deep into your throat and pulled.
You gasped, you could not hear it but you gasped, blood flowed from your neck in thick streams, falling down your chest onto the grass and the soft white petals below you. And through the dimness of your gaze, you watched the blood-eyed cat stare back at you. His eyes unwavering and cruel.
You struggled to keep your eyes open, you struggled to try and find the symphony that had abandoned you, you struggled to hear something, anything . You did not want to die to eyes such as his. You needed a noise, a hum, a beat- please, StarClan give me something-!