Foxheart awoke to cold and hunger and the sound of chirping birds. That much was normal. The kit stretched and yawned, before poking her nose out of her mother's makeshift nest (which was merely a bush) to squint into the morning light. Sun filtered through the canopy and dappled the ground, and when a ray landed on Foxheart's face, the small amount of warmth it bestowed felt like paradise; a respite from the uncharacteristically chilly Newleaf air that had left frost clinging to leaves and grass in the underbrush.
Foxheart's mother wasn't there, of course. She was hunting. Normally, a kit Foxheart's age wouldn't know much about the world outside their nursery, except that it was where food came from, and that it was very dangerous. But Foxheart had already seen some of the world. Whatever safety a kit would normally feel in their home had been robbed from her. This wasn't a home, it was a waypoint, and when evening came around, they'd be settling down in a different ill-prepared shelter.
Foxheart tried to make herself comfortable while she waited for Mother to return, but no matter how she positioned herself, she was uncomfortable and shivering. Her limbs were weak, and her ribs were visible under her sickly dark red pelt, and all she could think of was food.
The sound of Mother's padding pawsteps reached Foxheart's ears, and she sat up eagerly, mewling and trying to smell if she bore something to eat. The off-white pelt of Foxheart's mother, Sparkclaw, came into view from behind a large tree, her gait plagued by a limp that Foxheart had grown accustomed to seeing, and there was something clutched in her jaws. Sparkclaw dropped the body of a small thrush in front of Foxheart, who immediately tore into it with wild abandon.
"Foxheart, take it into the nest, dear, we're too exposed out here" said Sparkclaw, her head swiveling around nervously.
Foxheart forced herself to swallow. "Yes Mother." She took the thrush's wing in her mouth and clumsily backed into the heart of the bush, dragging it with her, and her mother followed.
Sparkclaw lay down, snuggling up to her kit. Her whiskers twitched with amusement. Her daughter hadn't greeted her, or asked her whether the thrush was hers to eat. If things were normal, and they had been with their clan, Foxheart would have been reprimanded. But Sparkclaw wouldn't do that; things weren't normal, and Foxheart needed to be more than a clan cat.
"Are you hungry too?" Sparkclaw broke from her thoughts and focused her attention on her daughter. Foxheart hadn't finished the thrush, and around half of its body and entrails still lay on the ground. "Do you need some? It seems like more than you usually catch, so..."
Sparkclaw took a moment to think of a response. "I already ate" Sparkclaw lied. "You can finish it."
"Are you su-"
"Yes!" Sparkclaw snapped. Foxheart recoiled, and Sparkclaw immediately felt terrible. "Yes, I'm sure." Sparkclaw's voice wavered. "Please, just eat it."
Foxheart stood stock still for a moment, then, hesitantly, she resumed eating.
When she had finished her meal, Foxheart stood, anticipating that they would resume journeying, but instead, Sparkclaw stood in her path.
"My little Foxheart, why did I have to tell you to finish your meal?"
Foxheart opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again...
"What have I told you before?"
Foxheart looked down at her paws. "Take care of myself first."
Sparkclaw sighed and relaxed. "Good. Let's go. We'll try hunting on the way, see if we can catch more food."
As Sparkclaw and her daughter made their way into the forest, bitter thoughts wormed into Sparkclaw's mind.
I won't let her make the same mistakes I did. I'll raise her knowing the truth, that you can't trust anyone but yourself.
They had to stop a few times to accommodate Sparkclaw's wounded leg, and during these interludes, Foxheart would venture a short distance away and attempt to hunt. Sparkclaw had taught her the basics, but despite her limp, Sparkclaw was still a more proficient hunter than her daughter. Truth be told, Foxheart was far too young to hunt, but Sparkclaw was intent that she should try anyway; the sooner she could stand on her own, the better.
But it was a tired, dejected, and empty-pawed Foxheart who dragged herself into the clearing a few minutes later to rest next to her mother, and after a period of silence, she asked a question.
"Will they really kill us?"
"What?"
"If they catch us, will they really kill us?"
Sparkclaw blinked. "I think so."
Foxheart lapsed into silence. She had heard stories about the clan cats from Mother. Horrible stories. Oh, the stories themselves were usually only moderately bad - or at least, Foxheart couldn't tell how bad they really were, since they felt so far removed from her. She thought she could understand the words Mother said, but she wasn't sure she really felt what they meant. What made the stories truly horrible was the way Mother's voice would fill with anger, and her eyes would grow wild as she told them.
If she dredged the depths of her memories, Foxheart thought she could recall vague flashes of other cats, and feelings of safety. This, Foxheart supposed, had been the short time she had spent in the clan before they had fled.
"I almost caught a mouse!" Foxheart chirped with forced enthusiasm.
"But you didn't."
Foxheart deflated. "Well, no. It's the closest I ever got, though."
Sparkclaw sighed. "I wish I'd been there to see it. Maybe I could've helped you, given you advice..."
"You needed to lay down, though. It's okay" Foxheart reassured her mother.
By the time evening had come around, Sparkclaw had managed to catch a painfully small vole, which, after a moment of silent deliberation, she had elected to eat herself. Then it was back to traveling.
"Ah, here, this is where we'll sleep tonight" Sparkclaw purred as she pushed aside tall grass to reveal a niche under cover of a massive rock. They had left the forest behind hours ago, and had found themselves stalking through grasslands littered with rocky outcroppings.
Foxheart settled herself in for the night, snuggling up against her mother's warm, soft fur. This place would shield her from the winds that blew across the grasslands, but without her mother's warm body, she knew she would still grow cold.
She closed her eyes and immediately Foxheart could feel her senses ebbing from her, the numbness of sleep consuming them. It crossed her mind that, being so tired and so hungry, she might be dying rather than falling asleep, and that momentary terror served to jolt her back awake. It was after a few minutes of this that Sparkclaw abruptly spoke.
"One day I'll be gone."
"Mother?"
"My leg is getting worse. You'll need to learn how to hunt soon. I won't be able to do it much longer."
Despite her exhaustion, Foxheart felt resolution build in her heart. She wouldn't let Mother down.
"Foxheart... if you had to, would you kill me?"
"What?"
"If there was no other choice, and you had to eat, would you kill me and eat me?"
Foxheart twisted around to stare at her mother in horror, and Sparkclaw stared back into her eyes with calm, lucid intensity.
When a few seconds of silence had passed, Sparkclaw repeated the question. "If you had to, would you kill me and eat me?"
"I... I don't..."
"Answer."
"I c... I can't-..." Foxheart pleaded through shuddering breaths. She knew what answer her mother wanted, and Sparkclaw's stare grew more intense with every passing second. "Y... y..." Foxheart shut her eyes tight and suppressed her sobs. Take care of yourself first. She took her feelings and stuffed them down into a deep, dark pit, just long enough to answer. "Ye- yes." She broke down.
Sparkclaw silently wrapped her body around her wailing kit. Slowly her sobs subsided, and she passed into a fitful sleep.
"Foxheart." Her mother's urgent whisper in her ear roused her. Foxheart dragged herself into consciousness, blearily blinking sleep from her eyes, when the distant sound of a cracking twig and the smell of strange cats jolted her awake and sent a panicked shot of adrenaline through her veins. "Foxheart, wake up! They're here!"