MOON 20 (FINAL)
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Barleywave decides to take out Airpaw for hunting, since Iciclepool has been confined to the nursery. Barleywave asks if Airpaw wants a friendly competition, and try to bring back the most prey items back to camp. Barleywave is happy to see a healthy amount of boasting from the young tom, given his usual quietness.
(Barleywave, warrior, male, 49 moons. Playful.) (Airpaw, apprentice, male, 10 moons. Charismatic.)
Cottonpaw and Perchwatcher do their best to include Owlpaw. Owlpaw wants to just hide, but Morningspot said something dumb about effort, or trying, or whatever...
(Cottonpaw, apprentice, female, 10 moons. Bold.) (Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 7 moons. Adventurous.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.)
Cats in camp are taken aback when they see Owlpaw yelling at Perchwatcher before storming off. Perchwatcher seems stunned and Cottonpaw looks wary.
(Cottonpaw, apprentice, female, 10 moons. Bold.) (Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 7 moons. Adventurous.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.)
Morningspot scrambles to apologize to Perchwatcher for Owlpaw's beahvior. Perchwatcher is too embarassed to care.
(Morningspot, warrior, female, 22 moons. Nervous.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.)
Owlpaw is shocked when Morningspot isn't mad with her. Morningspot does, however, ask that she walk away entirely and tell her instead next time it happens. She also asks that she say sorry to Perchwatcher for yelling, when she's feeling less angry.
(Owlpaw, apprentice, female, 7 moons. Adventurous.) (Morningspot, warrior, female, 22 moons. Nervous.)
Riftgorse, Branchsnarl and Perchwatcher go on a hunting patrol together. The two toms comfort Perchwatcher for what happened in camp...but they do put something tactfully that Perchwatcher needed to hear.
(Riftgorse, warrior, male, 18 moons. Charismatic.) (Perchwatcher, warrior, female, 15 moons. Responsible.) (Branchsnarl, warrior, trans male, 15 moons. Ambitious.)
Shadekit tried to come up with a plan to sneak out of camp with Blackkit. It's interrupted by Hopechase. Blackkit is secretly relieved.
(Hopechase, warrior, female, 102 moons. Playful.) (Blackkit, kitten, female, 5 moons. Shy.) (Shadekit, kitten, male, 5 moons. Unruly.)
By the end of the moon, Iciclepool goes into labour. The woods are successfully warded off, but...
(Iciclepool, deputy, female, 76 moons. Ambitious.) (Shiverstep, cleric, female, 20 moons. Loving.) (Windfur, cleric, male, 34 moons. Lonesome.)
----
It worked. They succeeded. They rebuilt their wall, prepared their torches, and circled the den. The tendrils ducked and weaved like stubborn scavengers desperate to pull meat from a mountain lion's catch, but the flames challenged their resolve. Still, they were desperate. Hungering.
Deerpaw and Riftgorse were bruised by the Living Tendrils swiping at their feet and wrapping around their legs. Morningspot and Cloudthunder had the torches knocked from their grasps, and both mollies resorted to biting into them and pulling away with all their strength. Airpaw drove a torch through the one his mother had grasped. Daffodilpaw joined her sister as she witnessed her stabbing the torches at the holes the tendrils emerged from, both cats trembling with adrenaline.
Two tendrils weaved through into the den. Before any cat could act, a wrathful caterwaul emerged from the nursery. There was thrashing and contorting, until one of the tendrils retreated like a terrified dog. The other let out an alien screech as it was pulled taut. It writhed and writhed, until the black, vengeful shadow that was Hopechase was practically dragged to the entrance. She dove her claws into it one last time, her single white paw painting itself black with their blood. Only when it hissed and pulled back with more ferocity did she finally let go.
It took a few more minutes for all the stragglers to finally determine their prey would not die easily, cutting their losses and retreating into the woods. Cats yowled with triumph.
By all accounts, they won. They succeeded.
So why, as they gathered around a small funeral pyre, did this still feel like a failure?
*******
Iciclepool had a bad feeling. Perhaps it was that gut feeling, that deeply-seeded fear that caused her to hesitate in stopping her duties and telling the clan about her pregnancy. It was so unlike her. When she was younger, she failed to stifle her joy at her past pregnancies. Cats gently warned her to lower her expectations - to no avail. Every single one of her kits were so loved and wanted. When Cliffstep was still by her side - oh, stars, she wished he was still here - she purred and spoke gently to them as she felt her kits shifting and kicking on occasion. She could count the sets of feet after a time, and know how many she would have. And Cliffstep was so loving, so attentive - curling around her and his future family with warmth and care.
None of them ever survived past six moons.
Shiverstep was all of her hope, all of her love she could never give to her children. She cherished every second the little kit curled by her side at night and padded after her in camp. She cried with relief as it hit her that finally, finally, nothing would take away her baby. Redstar wouldn't send her on a cruel trial. No tendrils would come. She could watch her child grow, and become such a beautiful molly. And oh, she did. Shiverstep was such a kind, beautiful, wonderful soul. Was it so wrong for her to have hope? To see another kit of hers grow up again?
She should've listened to Hopechase. Oh, stars, why didn't she listen? Hopechase voiced her concerns when Iciclepool told her what she felt. The look in her eyes made her feel so ashamed. She didn't want to tell the medicine cats. She didn't want them to confirm her worst fears. Hadn't she suffered enough? Was she wrong to hope and pray they would all survive this time?
Three. In the time she carried her babies, she felt at least three kick. But in total, in nights where she would press her paw around her stomach, thinking of names, she felt the round bundles curled against her. Four. One never stirred.
Hopechase and Shiverstep had been her only solace in the past few days.
"Everything will be alright, love. StarClan is watching over you. Cliffstep. Rapidpaw. Valleypaw. Your sister, and all of our lost friends and family. They want us to succeed. I know they must." Hopechase had looked at her with those bright blue eyes, with an intensity that mirrored a cloudless sky. "And I will defend our family with everything I have."
Separately, Shiverstep spoke with determined intensity. Bags formed under her eyes, but a glint of hope shone within them. "I promise, mom. I promise that nothing will happen to you. To them. I have help. From…from StarClan. Clanmates." It sounded like Shiverstep stopped her list short, a name on her tongue that she refused to speak. "We're going to be okay. If something bad happens, I'll find a way."
Only Windfur seemed to pierce through her soul, returning the dread Iciclepool felt.
"...I…I don't want to fail you," Windfur meowed, his voice tight. The implication weighed heavily on their shoulders.
"...It won't be your fault. Please…please don't blame yourself if it happens." Iciclepool's voice cracked. She felt like a wounded doe, desperate to hide her injury. She inhaled, froze her pain beneath a sheet of ice in her body, and straightened. "I've lost kits before. This is nothing new to me. I will survive."
"...I don't want you to have to."
"But I will."
And she did.
As she heard the yowling, burning and thrashing outside, as she felt her mate looming over the nursery entrance, as she met her contractions with familiarity and listened to Windfur and Shiverstep's guidance, she prepared. She heard Windfur call for Brackenfreckle to be on standby. The distant sounds of roots tearing through the earth and cats hissing echoed.
The first cried out. A grey molly.
The second did not. A brown molly. The noise outside accompanied her dread. Shiverstep was removing the liquid, drying the fur, her blue eyes intense as she rubbed it between her paws.
In the tension, she was forced to deliver the third. Windfur quickly removed debris near its face, and it screeched in protest. Iciclepool released a laugh of dismay. A black tom.
Shiverstep still worked. She gritted her teeth as her rubbing intensified.
"Shiver," Windfur began sharply.
"I'm fine," Shiverstep retorted, failing to hide her fear. She pried open its mouth to search for debris. "Come on. Come on. Please."
Iciclepool's heart was rotting. Burning. Falling off its tendons.
She barely registered her beloved mate screeching and throwing herself at tendrils that dared to approach.
Iciclepool bit down as a final wave of pain came to her. She whimpered. Windfur refocused his attention and quickly helped deliver the last. It let out a continuous set of mews, refusing to quiet until it felt its mother. A brown tom.
Windfur pressed around rapidly. "That's…that's it."
Iciclepool nodded. She curled around her newborn kits. She stared as she watched Shiverstep - her eldest kit - still trying to stifle life back into the newborn. The world around her spun and blurred. Cats yowled in triumph. Iciclepool saw her mate pad up to her with a shine in her eyes, only for them to dim as she saw Shiverstep trying to resuscitate a newborn. Windfur didn't step in to stop her. He just stared with an unreadable expression.
Time passed cruelly. Shiverstep's ears folded further back. Her eyes were wide with fear. Her breath quickened. She started mouthing something inaudibly.
Brackenfreckle entered boldly, looking at Iciclepool and her three healthy kits. Her expression fell as she looked at Shiverstep.
"...Is it…?" she started. She wisely decided not to finish her thought.
Shiverstep choked back a sob. She breathed air through its nose. She began small, rhythmic compressions on its ribs. Her mouthing became desperate whispers.
"Please. I call to you. I call to you. Please. Please."
"Shiverstep," Iciclepool whimpered, unable to bear her daughter's despair.
"Please," she repeated. She blew air into the kit's nose again, turning it over and rubbing its back rigorously. Her lips curled back and her teeth gritted. "Help. Help. I need…" She choked back a sob as her fleeting hope turned to despair. "What do I do?" she mouthed. She broke and pressed her head against the newborn kitten.
Iciclepool couldn't bear it. She stumbled to her weakened feet, despite Brackenfreckle's brief protest and her kits' whining. Shiverstep looked away as her mother approached her, and reluctantly fell apart as Iciclepool sadly dug her teeth into the cleric's scruff, pulling her towards the nest like one of her newborns. The young cleric sobbed, and Windfur reluctantly took the newborn away from Shiverstep. The marbled molly forced herself to her feet, following Iciclepool back to her nest - lest she were dragged.
Windfur's dark blue eyes were unreadable as he stared at the newborn. He started doing light compressions with his paw.
Iciclepool allowed her remaining kits to suckle, and she forced herself to purr with comfort as Shiverstep buried her head into her shoulder.
Her heart still withered.
Eventually, cats peered in, asking questions. Brackenfreckle uneasily tried to shoo them away. Redstar herself was getting agitated at being denied entry.
"Redstar, just…give us a moment. Please," Hopechase called back. The emptiness in her tone must've silenced the leader.
Iciclepool watched Windfur continue trying to revive her stillborn kit. His expression was like stone, but she knew that desperation roiled within him. She glanced at her mate. Hopechase held her breath. Refused to look at her. Shiverstep trembled, repeating strained and near-silent, "I call, I call, please, please answer," muffled against her mother's shoulder.
Iciclepool's copper eyes stilled. She bit back a wail as the memory of her past flashed before her. Every kit stolen by a tendril. Every apprentice trial Lakestar commanded on her children. Every baby she never got to see grow.
StarClan...Please...please let this be the very last one. No more. My heart can't do it again. I just can't.
Softly, she whispered, "Hopechase...let her go, love."
Hopechase objected meekly. "No."
"Hope."
"I can't." Hopechase stared at the stillborn kit in desperation.
"Honey. It's okay." She strained to place her paw on her mate's. It felt wet like mud. "Let her go."
After a time that felt like a thousand seasons, Hopechase's ears flattened, she closed her eyes, and dipped her head. Her voice trembled.
"...Sparrowkit?" The request was earnest and pleading, and Iciclepool failed to swallow the knot in her throat.
"Yes."
Hopechase lifted her head back up. "...It's okay, Windfur. Let her go."
Windfur ignored her, his pupils dilating.
Hopechase slowly rose to her feet, padding up to him with a lowered tail. "Windfur."
Nothing.
"Stop." The warrior placed her paw on his shoulder. Only then did the cleric slow his pace, before finally stopping. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, before gently putting her down.
Hopechase picked up Sparrowkit by the scruff, bringing her over to Iciclepool.
"...I can tell the Clan what happened, if it helps." Brackenfreckle offered. "...I'm sorry for your loss."
Hopechase breathed deeply. "Yes. Thank you."
As Brackenfreckle padded out, and Hopechase curled herself behind her mate, Iciclepool silently groomed her children - Shiverstep included, who still lay defeatedly by her side.
The mother felt conflicted as she stared down at her five children - one gone, one grown, three born. Her sorrow was like purifying rain over a burning forest; emollient. She gave a few, tender licks on Sparrowkit's head, her voice still trembling.
"Look after your sister for me, won't you, Rapidpaw, Valleypaw?" She inhaled sharply. "I love you. So much."
---
After a somber funeral, Hopechase and Iciclepool sleep in the same nest with their new babies, cherishing them and making silent vows to protect them forever. They give them names - Mulberrykit, Ghostkit and Hazelkit.
(Hopechase, warrior, female, 102 moons. Playful.) (Iciclepool, deputy, female, 76 moons. Ambitious.) (Mulberrykit, kitten, female, 0 moons. Quiet.) (Ghostkit, kitten, male, 0 moons. Shy.) (Hazelkit, kitten, male, 0 moons. Charming.) (Sparrowkit, female. StarClan cat.)
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