Warriors Cats Deaths Novels & Stories

I asked, my eyes moving around the nurse's station at the end of the hallway. How many did our pack members died? He sighed and I knew that he didn't have food news to give me. "33." I took a deep breath and nodded at him. Thirty-three? Thirty-three loyal pack members who died today at the hands of the rogues. Thirty-three members had come to celebrate the birth of Katelyn and ended up getting killed themselves. I opened my mouth to say something but suddenly a sharp pain sliced through my chest, which left me gasping. I staggered on my unsteady feet and gasped as waves of horrible pain struck my chest.

I cried as he lay by me, my tears longing to see him again but that was not ever possible. Bangs…. ! The doors immediately shut open and some warriors came into the building. As soon as I saw them, I was scared to my feet and I did not know what to do. The warriors surrounded us as they had pointed their weapons to him. "Check if the Alpha is dead," one of the warriors said. The junior checked the Alpha and confirmed that he was dead. "Yes sir he is dead. We do not need to worry over him again boss. We will take him out"

They were Death Warriors. Death Warriors, Suicide Warriors, Sacrificial Fighters, etc. There were many names for them. But they all meant one thing – someone whose life is worth nothing to their master. Death Warriors were warriors raised up and groomed all for the purpose of giving their lives for the ‘greater good’. They were meant to slow people down, and weaken stronger foes so that others can garner all the praise that came with conquering their enemies. That was what these profound wielders were doing. They didn’t fear death. They didn’t care about their lives at all. All they wanted to do was to inflict some sort of damage before dying so that Mane and Abe would be weakened sufficient

After like a minute or two was gone, the warriors signed out. "They were warriors before death and warriors in death. They died as heroes, not giving in to the threats and tortures of their enemies. The dead warriors of the Reapers will always be remembered in our hearts for their sacrifices and contributions to the werewolf kingdom. Rest well brave warriors." I broke the sad silence.

Cedric POV I sat in the courtyard, my annoyance simmering like a pot about to boil over. It had taken my aunt two agonizing days to return with the Warriors, and now I was faced with the devastating news of their ambush. The weight of their losses settled heavily on my shoulders as Beta delivered the grim report. "It happened unexpectedly, and before we could all flee to safety, three warriors were unfortunately killed," Beta said, her voice laced with regret. Marci's face twisted in anger and grief. "Because of your carelessness, three pack mates lost their lives! As a beta, you're really failing in your job." His words cut deep, and I could see the pain and frustration etched on his face.

He crinkled his eyes in concern. I sat up in my seat. He was about to tell me something serious and he deserved my undivided attention. “Go on,” I told him, putting down my coffee. “It’s our warriors,” he said. “They’ve…they’ve started dying. The ones that watch the Silvermist Pack borders.” “What do you mean ‘dying’?” I asked. This sounded a lot like the reports we’d had from the northern packs. Strange, unexplained deaths with no known cause.

"We gather here today to say farewell to the 9 lost warriors from yesterdays battle. One of them thankfully survived and are in the infirmary now. Adam Williams, Cuff Howled, Crook Howler, Nona Quinn, Max Jr, Benjamin Rouchouser, Seymour Lastlor, Zack Eastern, and Ethan Pandra." Eli said dejectedly while looking out over the crowd of tear-stain-faced wolves. People cried over there lost ones, making my heart sink. The nine bodies laid in there caskets as their ds and family morn over them. I bite my lip while I realize they all died because of me, all these people cried, because of me.

Then she turned to Elara. "You need rest too. Real rest. Not these catnaps you've been taking." Elara wanted to argue, but she was too tired. Too drained. Too overwhelmed with relief. "Okay," she whispered. "Okay." --- The days that followed were a blur of recovery and mourning. The pack buried their dead—thirty-seven warriors, each name carved into stone, each life remembered. The funeral rites lasted three days, the howls of grief echoing off the mountains. Elara attended every ceremony, held every hand, wept every tear.

Before long, a Warrior League apprentice went up to Blake and said, "We have over 30 members who are dead or injured. The other side has over 100 who are dead or injured." Over 30 people had died? Blake couldn't help swaying when he heard the number. He patted the apprentice on the shoulder and went over to Belinda's car. "Madam Dragon, we've lost about 30 people."

He was not happy. "You don't have to feel bad sir, in a battle death must be recorded. We all sacrificed our lives the moment we accept to become warriors" Dad understood what the warrior said. "You are right but you know I have to feel bad" "It's allowed sir" Dad sent information to those packs about the death of their men. They were so furious that they had to send another letter that day and said we should prepare the final destruction of the panther's pack. They let us know that we have touched the tale of a lion.