He's an Angel

Here we go with my second one-shot. I always found it a bit more difficult to make these, since it's a novel wrapped into a chapter. But I do enjoy reading them. One-shots have their own specialness that makes it worthwhile. I asked my few readers of Dawnstar's Legacy if they wanted their character(s) in a story like this or I would use one of my OCs. I got a submission and they are Whitepool and Mothspots, courtesy of Penguin598! Since these cats are not mine, I'm not sure if this story goes with the canon of the owner. So it's like a fan fic of a fan fic. Weaslepaw/kit and Brightpaw/kit (as an OC,) both belong to Penguin598 as well.

Based on/inspired by the song She's an Angel by the Queenstons, aka Renard Queenston.

This takes place during Dawnstar's Legacy around four seasons (or more,) after both characters featured were named warriors.

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Stars twinkled icily above WindClan's camp. The night was unusually cold, especially for leafbare this season. Whitepool could feel the winter air seep through her thick, pale colored fur for what seemed like the first time in moons. On nights like this, Mothspots would curl around her, cradling the white she cat like a kit in his embrace in the comfort of the warrior's den. But tonight, Mothspots was lying on the ground, his body cold and lifeless. Whitepool could barely even choke out a whimper of sorrow as she saw her dead mate in the center of the camp, all prepped for his journey to StarClan. It pained her to set her blue gaze on his ginger fur. To Whitepool, Mothspots looked unnaturally peaceful in death, just like he had been in his life time. The grace he carried in his gait was still there; the ones that sent shivers down her body that had captivated her so much. The blood from his chest wound was washed away and groomed neatly like he had always kept it…

A wet sob pushed Whitepool out of the relative peace of her grief. Curled beneath the white warrior queen was one of her kits, Weaslepaw. Weaslepaw buried his face into his mother's fur. Whitepool shifted around her son to shield him from the pain as much as possible. The white queen licked her kit's head sympathetically. She knew the pain of loss just as much as he did, if not more.

My son deserves better than this: a father who could watch him grow and guide their paths to being a warrior. He could have had what I didn't growing up. It should have been me lying there dead and not Mothspots. His life was worth so much more than mine.

Whitepool blinked away some tears that started to form in the corners of her eyes. She whispered comforts in her son's ears, hoping to ease her pain more than Weaslepaw's in the attempt.

"Patience, my sweet. We'll see him again. Your father is waiting for us in StarClan."

Weaslepaw sobbed again, his tears dampening his mother's chest fur.

"Then why are we waiting?" He asked between cries. Whitepool let a tear of her own escape her eyes. Why did waiting have to be so hard? The white queen then nuzzled Weaslepaw sympathetically.

"Waiting just means we're going to do something important in the future," Whitepool found herself quoting Mothspots' favorite saying, "Waiting for Mothspots is the more important thing we can do right now."

In her heart, Whitepool knew this was true. But her mind just wouldn't accept it. Not now. Her mate couldn't be dead, her kit would have a father like she never had, Whitepool's life would be happy….

Would be

Weaslepaw nodded at his mother. Whitepool thought her son understood what she was telling him.

"Mother, I'm tired." Weaslepaw whimpered. He curled himself even closer to his mother. Whitepool sighed sadly.

"Mothspots would understand if you're too tired to keep vigil. I'll stay up for the both of us." Whitepool meowed reassuringly. She nosed her son off to the apprentices' den, where he would hopefully get some rest after today's grief. Whitepool padded slowly towards her mate's body. Mindlessly she pressed her nose to his fur. Mothspots' scent still lingered through the smells of snow melt and the moor, causing Whitepool's heart to twist in the pain of loss.

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Whitepool charged over a gently rolling hill, hot on the heels of a fat rabbit. Such things were growing scarcer with winter holding over the lake. Whitepool couldn't miss the precious chance to feed her clan in weather like this.

Snow billowed under the white she cat's paws as she gained speed. Then, with a pounce, Whitepool leapt onto the rabbit. With a swift bite to the neck, the warrior ended her prey's life with triumph. Picking up her catch, Whitepool headed in the direction back towards WindClan's camp. She turned her head at the sound of a cat's call.

"Good catch, Whitepool!"

Whitepool set down her rabbit and bounded towards her mate. Mothspots stood at the foot of the hill, pride and admiration in his sparkling green eyes. Whitepool looked down at her paws modestly.

"It was a fat one, Mothspots. It was slower than usual," Whitepool said softly, embarrassment showing on her cheeks as she felt herself grow hot. Mothspots just smiled at her.

"Don't be that way, sweets. You're a great hunter. Plus, you barely show it. Have some pride in yourself." Mothspots mewed gently. Whitepool looked back up at her mate. Mentally, she shook herself.

"You're right. I should be proud of this. This could feed six warriors tonight." Whitepool said with a grin, happiness warming her heart. Mothspots brushed his tail across Whitepool's back affectionately.

"That's the spirit," Mothspots sniffed and stood ridged, "Wait, I smell twolegs."

Whitepool jerked her head around. Panic rose in her mind.

"Let's go, Mothspots. We can come back out later with Weaslepaw and Brightpaw to hunt more." Whitepool said, beaconing herself towards camp. Her mate nodded and trotted up beside her. Whitepool retrieved her prey and padded off.

The two cats trudged through the snowy drifts that dotted the moor together. Mothspots bounded up ahead of his mate.

"I'll go first, just to see if there's any twolegs here."

Whitepool nodded to herself. She understood that Mothspots wanted to keep her safe.

Then, the pair rounded a heather bush and was greeted by a deafening BANG!

Suddenly, Mothspots was hurled to the ground. A twoleg stepped out from the cover of the heather, holding a stick with a hole in the end of it. Fire, along with another bang as loud as thunder shot out from the stick, hitting Mothspots in the chest. Whitepool yowled in terror and anger as she lunged at the twoleg's back paw, hoping for vengeance for her fallen mate.

With a swift blow to her flank, Whitepool was forced off her opponent and fell to the ground beside Mothspots. Then, the twoleg made some odd grunting and squawking noises and left the moor. Whitepool stood up. Slightly dazed, the white she cat stepped over to check on her mate. Horror crept its way into Whitepool's chest as she gazed upon her fallen mate's body.

Mothspots' glittering green eyes were glazed over and cloudy. His body was crumpled from the chest downwards with blood pooling out of a gaping wound in his chest. The ginger spotted warrior's fur was still. There was not rhythmic rising and falling of his flanks that signaled that Mothspots had any breath left in him.

"Mothspots?" Whitepool whispered in desperation as she leaned over her now fallen mate. She nosed her muzzled against his, the scent of singed fur filling her nose. Very carefully, Whitepool grabbed her mate's scruff with her teeth, in hopes that he was still alive.

"I'll get us home. You're going to be ok, you have to be." Whitepool meowed out loud, her voice heightening with grief. With a grunt, the white warrior queen dragged her beloved mate back to WindClan's camp. The faces of her clan met her own with sympathy and sadness at her arrival. The clan's medicine cat rushed over to Mothspots' marred body. But the medicine cat shook his head, refusing to meet Whitepool's gaze.

"He's dead, Whitepool."

The words numbed the white she cat's thoughts.

"Dead! He can't be dead!" Whitepool screamed inside her mind.

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Why did you have to leave me?

Now it felt like the flame of happiness that Mothspots had lit in her heart had suddenly been doused by the icy torrent of his death.

Waiting just means we're going to do something important in the future.

But what am I waiting for? My life's dark now. My light's not here.

You were the one who always looked after me.

Whitepool sat up and began to groom her mate's fur for the last time. She breathed back another cry as memories flowed out of her mind of all the times she shared tongues with her beloved.

Flicker

"Why are you so concerned about your fur now, Mothspots? You're going to get it dirty on the next patrol anyway." Whitepool said, stepping in front of a ginger tom who was vigorously trying to groom himself. The tom stared back at her, his green eyes flashing mischief.

"Says the cat who 'can't be looking like a foolish apprentice' out on a patrol with our own clan." Mothspots replied, smirking naughtily.

"Hey, that's not fair. You used my own words against me!"

Mothspots laughed and bounded into Whitepool playfully.

"Now who's getting dirty?" Whitepool squeaked as she knocked her mate to the ground. Dust flung into both of their pelts by the time they sat up straight. The pair laughed at their ruined fur.

"Now we both have to groom ourselves. Happy, Whitepool?" Mothspots chuckled as he shook his fur free of the dust and dirty. Whitepool gazed back at Mothspots mischievously.

"I am now."

Flicker

Yowls split the nursery air as Whitepool squirmed on the ground, contractions gripping her gut. The queen shut her eyes, wishing the pain would go away and her kitting would be over.

"Someone fetch Mothspots," Whitepool whimpered into her nest of moss and feathers. A fellow queen settled down beside Whitepool, lapping at her forehead to comfort her.

"It will be over soon. Mothspots is coming. Please try to push, Whitepool." The queen encouraged.

Whitepool felt another contraction spike through her. She heaved out another yowl.

"It hurts, Nightblaze!" She panted as more pain rushed across her body.

Then, a ginger spotted warrior entered the nursery. Following him was the medicine cat who carried water soaked moss and herbs in his jaws. Whitepool strained to look up at her mate.

"Mothspots!" Whitepool gasped. Mothspots sat down beside the white queen, licking her forehead like Nightblaze had done prior.

"Keep going my sweet. You're almost there." Mothspots whispered. Another spasm pushed through Whitepool's body. With a yowl, a wet bundle of black and white fur plopped into her nest.

"It's a tom!" The medicine cat said as he placed the kit onto Whitepool's belly. Pride glittered in Whitepool's eyes when she set her sights on her first born son.

"One more to go." Mothspots mewed into Whitepool's ears. More contractions ripped into Whitepool's gut. Her efforts strained, she pushed out another kit. This one was a white she cat with ginger paws. With an exhausted sigh, Whitepool closed her eyes.

"Let her sleep, Mothspots," Whitepool heard the medicine cat mew as he turned to leave, "You can name the kits later."

Whitepool opened her eyes to catch a glimpse of Mothspots leaving the nursery. She stopped him.

"Wait, Mothspots," She meowed.

The ginger spotted tom whipped around towards his mate, worry flashing in his green gaze.

"Thanks for getting me through this." Whitepool continued. Mothspots' gaze softened. He smiled at her.

"No problem, sweet."

Flicker

"Race you to that hawthorn bush, Weaslepaw!"

Whitepool watched her two kits race around the weeds in WindClan's territory. Originally, she had taken both of her kits out on a private training session to work on hunting techniques. But right now, all they wanted to do was to have fun and get out of training, especially Brightpaw.

Whitepool shook her head. Brightpaw was always a "leap paws first into trouble and adventure" kind of cat with energy to match. Sometimes her mind just wasn't focused on training. Whitepool stepped towards both of her kits. Now training was going to start. The white queen wanted her kits to have the best possible start in their training. Plus, there were always some things mentors just couldn't teach apprentices.

"Brightpaw, Weaslepaw," Whitepool called out to her daughter and son," Come here." The two apprentices bounced back towards their mother. Eyes shining with delight from their game.

"I want to teach you some hunting techniques, dears." Whitepool meowed. Brightpaw groaned.

"Doesn't my mentor teach me enough?" Brightpaw said rolling her eyes. Whitepool twitched her tail indignantly.

"There are some things mentors can't teach you. That's why I wanted to show you." Whitepool said, biting back a smart reply to her daughter's disrespectfulness. The white warrior looked back down at her kits. Weaslepaw was staring back at his mother intently, awaiting instruction. Brightpaw had turned her head so that her ears were facing her mother instead of her eyes. Whitepool swallowed down more fury from her mind. It had been moons since she had an apprentice, so Whitepool had long since forgotten what it was like with dealing with unruly apprentices.

"Just repeat after me, Brightpaw." Whitepool finally mewed tersely.

The two apprentices had watched their mother's example of saving their speed till after a few moments of weaker running. Brightpaw stumbled into the grass when it was her turn to try.

"It can't do it mother." She said carelessly. Whitepool sighed and sat down. She was on the verge of giving up with her daughter.

"Good job on that leap, Weaslepaw." A voice said behind Whitepool. The white warrior turned around to see Mothspots padded up towards the rest of his family. Both his kits bounded up to him, mewing their greetings.

"Show me what Whitepool has taught you, kits," Mothspots meowed smoothly. Brightpaw shot a guilty glance at Whitepool. "Don't tell me you didn't learn something from the greatest hunter in the clan."

"Come on, Brightpaw. Let's show them what we can do." Weaslepaw said, eager to show his new found skill to his kin. Weaslepaw nudged off his sister further into the moor. Weaslepaw ran and sprang with perfect timing and balance. Brightpaw imitated him, but stumbled at the last leap. Mothspots let out a chuckle.

"Giving you a hard time, Whitepool?"

Whitepool giggled sheepishly.

"I'm not that great of a hunter."

"Sure you are. You should see yourself when you're on patrol."

Whitepool settled next to her mate. Her tail twinned its way onto his; both their pelts brushed each other.

"I guess I must be if I caught the eye of an amazing warrior like you."

Fwoosh!

Another tear slid down Whitepool's cheek. She sniffled and groomed Mothspots' pelt once more. The sky was glowing in a milky pink blaze. The vigil for Whitepool's mate was beginning to close. The white warrior queen stood up to her feet and shook her pelt, letting the snow from last night rain down on Mothspots' lifeless fur. Whitepool blinked slowly. Mothspots would have laughed at her for messing up his fur like that.

Whitepool opened her eyes and gazed up at the fading stars longingly. With a renewed spirit, she felt her body burn. No more tears stained her eyes. A realization dawned on the white she cat. Mothspots' flame burned on through her and her memories. Whitepool turned back to look at her mate one last time before going about daily duties. Mothspots wouldn't have wanted his memory burned out by the sadness of his death. Whitepool made a vow to herself.

I'll keep waiting. It's the more important task of my life. I won't let my flame go out just because yours did, Mothspots. Now that you've dropped me from the sky, I'm ready to soar to you.