Hopepaw's headshot! Base by Louixie. 

"Okay, Hopepaw, you're good to go outside! Have fun!" Frostedmoss meowed cheerfully, plastering the last bit of fresh cobweb onto the bare stump of the scarred tail. "Thanks, Frostedmoss," Hopepaw replied quietly.  "For everything." The gray-and-white patched tom shrugged. "Just doing my job."

The camp was nearly empty of warriors, the heat of Snowgone season drawing every cat up into the sun's golden light. Even the elders had been guided up to the top of the tunnel to bask on the warm stone. Really, Hopepaw missed the feeling of the sun on her fur. She wanted to be outside, but the memory of Screechpaw hung heavy above her head,  a dark cloud blotting out any thought of enjoying a day outside. Enjoying anything, really. It had been close to a quarter moon since the accident, but the loss was as fresh as a sharp thorn scratch in her heart.

But, just as she was about to turn back and find a secluded place to spend another day in camp, Tumblesoar appeared at the mouth of the tunnel. "Hopepaw! There you are. Come on, I'm going to take you down to the lower forest. To celebrate your first day out!" Hopepaw jumped at his voice and turned to face her mentor, fur raised slightly on the back of her neck. "Oh... Okay." She answered, her voice lacking much emotion, not bothering to sound excited.

Tumblesoar's ears drooped slightly. "Aren't you excited? You've been trapped here for weeks! Surely you must want to go out." Hopepaw shook her head slightly. "I don't want to. I'd rather sleep for a while." Tumblesoar quirked a brow. "It'll be good for you. We're going."

Reluctantly, Hopepaw began to lope slowly behind her mentor as he scaled the tunnel. Light appeared, dazzlingly bright in the near distance, and Hopepaw squinted as it got brighter. As she reached the top, she drew a deep breath of mountain air, sweet with the scent of warm stone, and fragrant plant life. The sun nearly blinded her with its intensity, and her eyes burned from the sudden burst of luminosity. Tumblesoar stood beside her, a small smile etched across his muzzle. "It's a nice day, isn't it? Just beautiful. It's rarely this warm, so high up."

His words made a shiver of fear and grief tingle through her pelt like lightning. Those were almost the same words she had spoken to Screechpaw, as small talk, while they hunted for the sweet pine. Right before the avalanche that had not only brought the mountain, but Hopepaw's entire life crashing down around her. Her eyes glazed as she remembered the moments of pure, white-hot fear before everything went black, the sound of the wave of snow rushing down the slopes to meet them...

"Are you okay?" Tumblesoar asked gently, placing a paw on her shoulder. "Y-yeah. I'm alright..." She whispered, still quaking slightly. A hawk let out a raucous cry somewhere above them, and Tumblesoar began his descent down the mountain, glancing back to make sure his apprentice was following. With one last backward look at the soft darkness of the tunnel, she let out a quiet sigh and started after him.
                                      ~❆~

Leaves rustled gently above Hopepaw's head as she and Tumblesoar padded through the bright green forest. A squirrel chattered in the branches of an oak, and the distant trickling of the creek could be heard through the trees. The full heat of Snowgone blasted the two cats, and only the shade of the foliage graced them from completely overheating. "Nice, isn't it?" Tumblesoar meowed from a few pawsteps ahead of her. "Yeah," Hopepaw murmured, changing course to try and get to the creek. "It's a bit hot, though."

"Well, this is the hottest time of the season. I pity those MeadowClan cats; they have no shade on their territory! Imagine how sweltering it would be in those fields and moors."

Tumblesoar chattered cheerfully on, seeming to have endless things to talk about. Hopepaw nodded absently every once in a while to give the illusion that she cared, but really, she was disconnected from everything, in her own little world inside her head.

It was a world where the avalanche had never happened, and instead of Tumblesoar rambling on ahead of her, it was Screechpaw. Emeraldpaw didn't exist in her perfect world, and Bluepaw was a decent cat again. In the world she so desperately wanted to be in, she still had her tail, and there was no border tension between Clans. But that's not my world. My world is cruel and hot, and unfair. In this cursed world, The Land of Shining Stars takes cats just out of kittenhood, for no reason.

Anger slowly swelled within Hopepaw's chest, like a thunderstorm brewing in a dark sky. But before she could make herself angrier, the creek came into view, its crystal-clear water flowing lazily over the smooth gray stones that filled the creekbed. She slid down the crumbling earth that lined the water and dipped her paws into the stream. It was cold, but not freezing, and she stood there a moment, watching the water flow over her ginger-and-cream paws, distorting and blurring them before her very eyes.

Her reflection too was blurry on the water's surface, and she, with some difficulty, studied herself. Dark circles sat like a calico's patches under and around her slightly sunken-down eyes, obviously a result of the nightmares that still plagued her. Hopepaw's fur was a bit messy; she hadn't groomed herself before she'd gone out, and her face held a frown that seemed to be permanently etched across her young muzzle.

But her eyes themselves were what truly scared her. They were haunted and dull... Bloodshot around the edges, the bright scarlet lines fading into the once-firey irises. One golden, one amber, her soul seemed to stare into itself through the broken eyes. She broke her own gaze. I look like a mess... She stumbled back, stunned. That can't be me. I look like a monster.

Tumblesoar skidded down the riverbank, nearly slipping right into the creek. He teetered on the edge for a moment, before righting himself with an embarrassed huff. "Whoops. It's a bit crumbly." He meowed, flicking his tail away as it settled into the chilly water.

"Anyway, I scented a pheasant near the border with EmberClan. Want to go try to catch it?" He asked, tipping his blue-tinted head toward the border. "Okay," Hopepaw answered, not even really registering his words. She felt numb.

Trailing after her mentor, she suddenly realized that the acrid, smoky scent of EmberClan was much stronger than it should have been. And it smelled like more than just border markings; it was more like many, many individual cats had crossed their border.

"Tumblesoar," she mewed hesitantly. "I can smell-" But before she could finish her sentence, she saw them. Four, large EmberClan cats stood a few fox lengths from the borderline, one of their rank crouching over the limp body of a pheasant. She made eye contact with the bird's killer, and as she met his cold aqua eyes, she felt a chill of fear and realization trickle down her spine. It was Obsidianpaw, the cat that nearly killed Screechpaw.

With blood on his teeth and fire in his eyes, he snarled savagely at Hopepaw. She was frozen as her mind flashed back to the chaos of the moment that Obsidianpaw had pressed Screechpaw up against the Sacred Willow, apathetic as the helpless apprentice slowly asphyxiated. Hopepaw's mouth went dry. Her legs went weak. 

"HOPEPAW, RUN!"