Arc One: Chapter Twelve
“No.”
Mistface stared at Shinerpelt, mouth open and ears pinned back against his head. He should have been calm, should have been dignified in front of this stranger, but everything around him and that was him faded into black and his heart froze in place.
“I’m sorry,” the golden tom said, head tilted sympathetically. “That’s the only conclusion I can come to.”
“No, that-“ Mistface looked back at his mother, who was lying down behind him. “That can’t be right.”
Shinerpelt was unbothered. He simply continued on. “It’s not entirely rare among Scattered cats in the south. Nettlecloud, you’re unfortunately at the right age for it to start growing in-“
“You know nothin’,” Mistface said, angry. “She’s not-“
“Love,” Nettlecloud said gently, reaching out a paw and touching his flank. “It’s alright.”
“The burning hills it is!” Mistface jerked around to face her. He could feel his fur standing straight up all over his body. “We need to get Greyleaf, he can diagnose you properly!”
Nettlecloud blinked slowly at him. “He’ll find the same thing, I’m sure. There’s nothing we can do about it now. Beetlefoot and Greyleaf should be here in a day or two. We can talk about it with them then.”
Mistface opened his mouth, but no words would come out. He just shook his head, pacing back and forth.
“Thank you for comin’, Shinerpelt,” Nettlecloud said to the healer. “Would you like somethin’ to eat?”
“He’s not getting’ any food,” Mistface almost snapped. “Why-“
Nettlecloud turned her gaze on him, and it was so unusually stern and stony that his jaw snapped shut on its own. “He’s a guest, and we treat our guests well. Now, Shinerpelt. Are you hungry?”
Shinerpelt had the neutral expression of someone who had dealt with this kind of situation many times in his life and had long since gotten used to it. “I’m quite all right, ma’am, but thank you. I can’t do anything more at this point, and I was on my way to another family when your friend stopped me, so I should be going.”
“Then go,” Mistface growled, but almost immediately after biting out those two words, the anger drained out of him and he sat down heavily in the grass.
Shinerpelt nodded respectfully to Nettlecloud and curtly to Mistface. He gave one last apology to the old molly before trotting off westward.
The mother and son were silent until he was far enough away that he wouldn’t hear them. Eventually, Mistface looked over at Nettlecloud and croaked, “How can you be so calm about this?”
“Why be anything else?” Nettlecloud said simply. “There’s nothing to be done.”
Mistface hung his head in grief.
---
It seemed like an entire season had passed before the wind carried those familiar scents to Mistface’s nose late into the night. He sighed and marveled that, for the first time in his life, he was not looking forward to seeing his brother. Nettlecloud was dozing in a patch of flowers, the grass and leaves gently tugging at her fur whenever she shifted. Mistface watched her unhappily until he heard Beetlefoot’s voice calling for him. He stood up, slow and uneasy, and moved forward without really thinking to meet them a small distance away.
“Good evening,” Beetlefoot said, but whatever else he was about to say visibly wilted in his mouth as he looked at Mistface (who was very aware how disheveled his coat was). He glanced between the brothers and stepped a little to the side.
Greyleaf’s eyes roamed over his brother, concern growing into anxiety. “What’s going on?”
Mistface wished he was anywhere else in the world than here. He lowered his head, his eyes closing on their own, and braced himself.
Greyleaf’s voice trembled a little. “Mistface, what happened?”
Mistface inhaled slowly, and opened his eyes. “Mama’s dyin’.”
Greyleaf froze in place. He stared, mouth slightly open, claws digging into the ground.
“We had a healer come by and check on her,” Mistface continued softly. “Cancer of some kind. He said there’s nothin’ we can do.”
Beetlefoot did not quite gasp, but his next breath was sharp and alarmed. Mistface looked over at him, dully noting a growing distress in his body language.
“She’s still awake, a little,” he said. “She’ll be happy to see you.”
Beetlefoot must have gotten the hint, because he gave a jerky nod and almost ran past the brothers, leaving them to their conversation. Mistface’s ears swiveled back and he caught his mother sleepily greeting the messenger, who spoke quietly to her in response.
When he looked back to his brother, he blinked in confusion. There was grief in his face, yes, a little, but moreover, his eyes were wide with horror and his mouth trembled as if he was scared out of his mind. He almost didn’t look like he was present for this discussion – his sight was unfocused and his head nearly tilted skyward for a moment.
“Greyleaf,” Mistface said, and it took a lot of energy to force his voice above a murmur.
Greyleaf jumped like Mistface had hit him. He gasped in the first breath he had taken in a few seconds and stuttered, “You’re- you’re sure.”
“That rothead healer was pretty sure, but you can check yourself, if you like.” Mistface glanced backwards. Nettlecloud had her head lifted up, her already droopy fur sagging with petals and grass blades all over her face and neck. She looked sweetly amused at whatever Beetlefoot was saying to her (and Mistface noticed that he was making an effort to look more friendly than was natural for a face that was made for frowning like his).
Greyleaf audibly swallowed and walked past his brother without saying a word. Mistface followed just as silently.
Nettlecloud caught sight of her son and beamed. “I’m glad to see you again, dearest.”
Greyleaf could barely force a smile. “Hi. I’ve… I’ve heard the news.”
“I was afraid that I would have to be the one to tell you.” Nettlecloud sighed, still looking peaceful and serene as ever. “How were your travels?”
“They…” Greyleaf shook his head like a fly was bothering him. “They were fine. Let me take a look at you, Mama.”
Mistface and Beetlefoot sat off to the side together and watched as Greyleaf sniffed, prodded, and asked his mother questions. She answered them all just the way she had to Shinerpelt, but in a much quieter voice. Greyleaf took his time, inspecting carefully around the chest and stomach, where Shinerpelt had found the lump. Eventually, he stepped back, his fur rising along his tail and back.
“He was right,” Greyleaf said, a little choked.
Mistface sunk to his stomach. Beetlefoot said nothing.
“It’ll be alright,” Nettlecloud said, just as soothingly as she had to Mistface when they had first heard the news. “I’m not afraid to die, and I doubt that’ll happen anytime soon.”
Greyleaf had that look of horror on his face again, but it was replaced in a blink with a pathetic smile and forcibly bright eyes. “At least you’re not in any pain, I guess.”
“Real silver linin’,” Mistface said darkly.
Greyleaf did not appear to hear him. He spoke again to Nettlecloud. “I can’t stay too long. I’m sorry. Thornstar is getting worse, too. I only got to leave because it was an emergency. I’ll have to go by tomorrow afternoon.”
“That’s perfectly fine,” Nettlecloud said. “It does me good to have you for any length of time. And I’m glad you brought Beetlefoot back with you.”
Beetlefoot spoke the most evenly out of all of them. “I’m very sorry to hear about this, Nettlecloud.”
Nettlecloud waved her tail dismissively, but she gave him a warm look. “It’s nice to have friends and family here. But it’s late. Let’s rest and chat in the morning.”
Everyone agreed to this, though Mistface knew that only she got any sleep by the time the sun was up. Mistface and Beetlefoot caught prey for the four of them, but the silence that hung over the little group stretched for a long time after they had finished their meals.
Greyleaf stood up suddenly and said, “I’m going to talk to the leaders and see if I can come back down more often to make sure you’re okay.”
“That’d be nice,” Mistface agreed. “We miss you even without the current situation.”
“Then I better go now.” Greyleaf gently nosed Nettlecloud’s head. “Don’t you go dying until I come back, Mama.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, my love.” Nettlecloud let out an almost deafening purr. “I’m not goin’ anywhere until I’m good and ready. We still have plenty of time together.”
“Good,” said Greyleaf, but something in his voice made Mistface peer at him curiously. His eyes dimmed for just a moment before they returned to that false brightness.
Beetlefoot stood up as well. “I’ll be back with a message as soon as I can, ma’am.”
“We make pretty good time with Beetlefoot setting the pace,” Greyleaf joked weakly.
“Off you go, then,” Nettlecloud said. “Don’t wheedle or bully those leaders. I’m sure they’re more than willin’ to let you come back whenever you like.”
Greyleaf just nodded, still forcing cheeriness in his expression, and started off. Beetlefoot murmured his goodbyes and followed.
“See you, by the way,” Mistface said to his brother.
Greyleaf paused, looking alarmed. “R-right. Right. Bye. I’ll see you soon.”
The toms continued away at a trot before loping into a canter. Beetlefoot almost looked surprised, but he kept up easily, and soon they were dots on the horizon.
Mistface watched them go, wondering why his brother wouldn’t look at him as he left.