Father-Son Talk (short story)
Shallowfig’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. His fear was far lesser than it had been when Banshee almost died and when Plague had tried to attack his precious kits–heartless foxdung–but it was still present enough to make him feel nauseous, squirming uncomfortably as he sat before his father, Alderstar.
Between the den invasion and Banshee’s wound, and on top of it all, finding out that Banshee was pregnant with his kits, it was a while before his parents, other than Hootpetal, wanted to talk with him about his choice to become mates with Banshee behind their back. At least, that’s what he expected that this was about. All Whitebriar had told him was that Alderstar wanted to speak with him about Banshee.
Alderstar sat facing him now. They were on equal ground, but it felt as though his father was staring him down from a high stone.Â
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Shallowfig began, wanting to get ahead of this.Â
“You should have,” Alderstar replied.
“I thought you would have chased her away,” Shallowfig admitted.
“Would that fear have been worth keeping part of your family secret from the other?” Alderstar inquired. Shallowfig huddled into himself. He looked down on the ground, focusing, or trying to, on his claws digging into the soil. He heard a sigh, and a moment later Alderstar was no longer facing him, but beside him, his tail curled around his son’s back.
“I would be a hypocrite to fault you for choosing love,” his father went on. Shallowfig knew he was talking about his dad, Myrtlewing. “I’m just sorry you thought that I would chase her away.”
“I would have probably come close,” Alderstar breathed. “But I know the truth now. She is not Plague’s pawn, shaped in her way. She is a victim that deserves love and a home, and you stood up and provided it for her.”Â
Surprised at the warmth in his father’s voice, after having expected rage, Shallowfig looked at Alderstar, meeting his proud gaze. “You’re not mad?”
“I still think you went about it wrong,” Alderstar told him. You should have explained the situation to us or at least your brother and sister. But,” he continued when Shallowfig shrank in guilt, “I understand that is easier said than done. And I understand that our paranoia due to events of the past has caused you to hide from us what makes you happy, and for that I am truly sorry.”
Alderstar was always loving and involved, but this was too much. After finding out he would be a father again, after almost having his kits die and then his mate almost die–and then finding out that it was his pregnant mate that almost died….Shallowfig trembled, leaning and sniffling into Alderstar’s welcoming embrace.Â
Then a cold shiver ran down Shallowfig’s spine. “Plague’s not dead.”
“No,” Alderstar agreed. Shallowfig felt his fur bristle and heard his voice tense. “But she’s weak now, after what her daughter rightfully did to her.”
“Do you think she’ll try to attack again?”
“We should expect it, to be safe. Train your kits. Then train them harder. Teach them to kill.”
Shallowfig flinched. He knew and accepted that his fathers and many of his kin were killers, that was a simple fact that had existed since he was a kit, but he had not planned to pass down such….instinct to his kits. “I don’t want them to be monsters.”
“Would you rather they be dead?” Alderstar questioned.
To that, Shallowfig didn’t have an answer. He did, in his head, know that of course he would do anything to keep them alive. But he couldn’t say it, to say it meant to think it, thinking that his lovely, little kits in Banshee’s belly could grow up to be just as cruel as Plague, just to make sure that they don’t die by her claws.
He shut his eyes tightly. He should see Banshee. Standing, he looked his father hard in the eye and responded, “I will do anything for them.”
--When Alder sighed and walked over to Shallow it was because he was reminded of himself and his own father, Stormstar, and didn’t want to make his son think of him like he thought of Storm!
