Two more challenges, then Spruce will come into being.

Here is my innocent son, please love him.

Review Replies:

SomeStormLeaf- Thank you so much! Stockholm syndrome for the win! Yes, we all hate Ray and Brent is better bf.

succulentsofa- Thanks Lucy! I worked really hard on the characterizations, so I'm glad that showed. The last scene was fun to write.

All stillborn, just like the last litter. The litter before that, they had been too sickly to survive. Breon dug his claws into the dirt and Sage buried the bodies. Three dead litters and a miscarriage, the Stars must have cursed Breon.

"I'm sorry," Sage sobbed, "I'm trying Breon, but I'm…"

"Sage, I know," Breon said, uncharacteristically gentle, "But it's our job, I'm a devout… almost all the other Devout who have pairs have kits. Razor… Heck, even Fern found those two kits in the woods and brought them back here and she can't even have kits."

"Sometime, I think… neither can we," Sage whispered, "Stars, think of what the Savior will say."

"We need to start planning for our next litter," Breon grunted coldly and Sage buried her face in her paws.

"I can't," she exclaimed, "I can't keep going through and losing kits like this, Breon I…" She collapsed into her pair's fur and cried while Breon held her stiffly. He was afraid that the Savior would suggest he get a new pair, but he and Sage were optimal. He knew they just… went together. So the strictest of the Devout let her cry in his shoulder.

Within the moon, she found out she was pregnant. Breon could tell his pair pretended to be happy for the others, but he knew she was terrified. He didn't think he could bear losing another kit as well. Did you ever give the last ones names? Sage had named them, but Breon could list them all off, the children he would never have.

Berry.

Bark.

Bella.

Snapdragon.

Dusk.

And the newest litter, which the kits had been hastily named in their parents' grief.

Bush.

Twig.

Breon wanted a litter of kits, three of four, to run around and be happy. He was a Devout, he needed to do his duty to the Claws. Sage shared similar sentiments, he knew. Breon would have a kit, and he would raise it with his wonderful pair.

…

There was too much blood, Breon knew that. Maria and Fig, two experienced mothers, were delivering the kits. Fig came out, "Breon, I'm so sorry…"

"More stillborns?" he asked, voice thick with pain, "Are you sure?"

"No, Sage, she's-" Fig was cut off by Breon stomping into the den. There, laid the limp body of his pair.

"Sage?" he whispered, "Sage, please wake up, please."

He smiled at her while tears formed in his eyes, "Sage, I don't care about the litter, I want you. Please come back."

Sage wasn't coming back.

He looked at the three kits. They weren't moving. "Morning," he choked, "Hart, and…"

He saw the last kit shuffle slightly, it was barely breathing. His heart clenched, "Spruce."

"Breon…" a voice whispered, "Is that our son?" Breon's eyes widened.

"Sage?" he called, "Sage, you're okay!"

"Not dead!" she whispered before passing out again.

…

Spruce opened his eyes and poked his mother. "Mommy, am I allowed to leave the camp yet?"

Sage chuckled, "Spruce, you're a moon and a half old. Why don't you go play with Jade or one of the other kits?"

"I don't want to," Spruce frowned, "Jade doesn't know any fun games. Maybe Sila's kits will be more fun!"

"Spruce, that isn't very nice," Sage scolded her son, "You're going to be a youngling with these cats, you should get to know them!"

"Well, Gretta used to come tell me stories, but she never stops by anymore," Spruce sighed. Sage looked at him with alarm, it wasn't exactly a secret that Gretta had wanted to ve paired with Razor's now deceased son. The tortoiseshell barely said a word to anyone nowadays.

"Spruce…" she said in a wary tone, "That's a complicated subject."

"Why?" Spruce asked, "Did I do something? Oh no, I hope I didn't hurt her feelings!"

"It wasn't you Spruce," his mother sighed, "You'll understand as you get older."

"I'm older now!" Spruce laughed, then he furrowed his brow, "I still don't get it."

Sage rolled her eyes, "Oh Spruce." A white butterfly flew in front of the nursery and Spruce's eyes lit up. "Spruce, be careful!" his mother called as he stumbled out on paws that were too big for the rest of his body. Spruce ran after the butterfly. It landed on the ground in front of him and opened its wings. Spruce's eyes went wide, he was utterly entranced by the beautiful sight.

Then River walked over and snatched the butterfly off the ground. Spruce watched in horror as the older tom ate the beautiful creature. "Hmm, no this doesn't taste right…" River frowned, "Too crunchy, won't go great with a mouse at all."

"How could you?" Spruce asked, mortified, "It was- it was so pretty!" River looked at him, confused.

"Kid, it was just a bug," River sighed and walked over to talk to his sister. Spruce felt tears spring into his eyes. His father walked over to him.

"Spruce, the son of a Devout does not cry over a butterfly," Breon hissed in his ear, "You have to have thicker skin than that!"

Spruce looked at his father and sniffled, "B-But it was so pretty, and-and River ate it!"

"River's always eating weird stuff," Breon sighed, "He's never going to get a pair if he keeps just hanging out with his sister. You, on the other hand, will get a fine pair one day."

"Okay Daddy!" Spruce chirped and went on his merry way.

…

Spruce was shivering in the cold wet air. "It's chilly Daddy," he whimpered, "Shouldn't I b-be in the nursery?"

"Don't be a baby," Breon rolled his eyes, "You haven't even seen leaf-bare yet Spruce, this isn't cold."

Spruce certainly felt cold, but he kept his mouth shut. "Why are we out here Daddy?" he asked, looking up at Breon with innocent green eyes.

"You need to learn a proper hunting crouch," Breon told Spruce and proceeded to get into a crouch, "Mimic my movements."

Spruce clumsily attempted to copy his father. After some corrections, he had an awkward but feasible crouch. He heard rustling nearby and pounced, catching a mouse.

"Excellent job son!" Breon purred, "Maybe at this rate, you can be a Devout yourself one day."

"Really Daddy?" Spruce asked excitedly, "I can be big and strong like you?"

"You also have to have faith," Breon said sternly, "Faith has gotten your mother and I through many hardships in the past. Just trust in the Stars and the Savior and you will be guided onto the right path."

"Wow," Spruce looked up at the dim morning sky in awe, he could still make out a few stars. They were looking out for him.

…

Breon had taken him to the grave of his mother. "Sage…" he whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Daddy, why did the Stars take away Mommy?" Spruce asked, holding back tears. The kit of a Devout does not cry. "Why did they let her get sick?" he questioned.

"Your mother was a great cat," Breon stroked Spruce gently, "The Stars just decided to call her, but she is in a better place now. The Savior told me he saw her, and that she's waiting for us."

"Can I go see her?" Spruce asked, hoping his mother would appear from somewhere.

"Not yet," Breon breathed, "One day, but not yet."

Spruce looked up at the stars. I'll come see you Mommy.

…

"You're almost a youngling son," Breon told Spruce, "You have your eye on anyone?"

"Nope," Spruce shrugged and went back to playing with a stick.

"What about Jade, or maybe one of Onyx's kits?" Breon asked, "Oh wait, Onyx and Harrow only had toms, nevermind."

"Huh?" Spruce raised and eyebrow, "So… I can't be paired with them."

Breon wrinkled his nose, "Obviously not!" He huffed and narrowed his eyes, "Honestly Spruce, you should be old enough to know these things by now."

Spruce just continued doodling. He didn't think Viper, Creek, and Raven were that ugly.

…

Spruce was a youngling now, he knew what was expected. He was to learn the ways of the Savior and let the Stars guide him. He liked stars, they were pretty. He loved to spend all night staring up at them and wondering if his mother was looking back on him.

He wasn't supposed to question the Savior's ways. His father had less time for him lately, and was always talking to the Savior or Avaros with the other Devout. Spruce sighed, he knew his father wanted him to be a member of the Devout one day, but he wasn't sure that was what he wanted. Spruce did want to make Breon proud though, he loved making his father proud.

That's why he kept quiet when the Savior started taking prisoners. It seemed mean to him, to keep them locked away. And they always looked so sad and hungry. Spruce just didn't understand how the Savior thought taking cats from their home like that was nice. It certainly didn't seem that way to Spruce, those cats looked terrified. One of them wasn't much older than he was.

His father kept shoving Jade at him because she was the she-cat around his age that he had shown the most interest in. We just had one conversation.

Suddenly, a horrible coughing racket broke Spruce out of his thoughts. He should know better than to question the Savior anyways. The cat who was guarding the prison snapped at him to get some water. Spruce flattened his ears, he didn't like being snapped at. He brought the moss to an obviously pregnant queen. Why would the Savior force a queen to rest in here?

Spruce was confused, he knew he was supposed to listen to the Savior, but this wasn't right. The cats they had captured were supposed to be evil, that's what Breon had told him. They don't look evil…

…

Everything was falling apart. The Claws had fractured before Spruce's eyes and the little brown tabby was terrified. The Savior let him out of the camp in a large group while his father stood beside him comfortingly.

His heart pounded as the berries were placed in front of him. He had been taught to stay away from those berries, he knew they could be toxic. "Come on Spruce, let's see your mother again," Breon smiled at his son, "Sage is waiting for us."

"I don't want to," Spruce whispered, his voice wavering, "I want to go back to camp Daddy."

"With the traitors?" Breon hissed, "Remember, we trust in the Stars. You do want to see Sage again, right?"

Spruce kept his mouth shut and looked at his father with fearful eyes. He didn't want to disappoint his father. He popped one of the berries in his mouth and everything burned. Was this supposed to be what being purified felt like?

Spruce had never hated any feeling more in his short life.

Everything was utter agony and Spruce was twitching on the ground. He didn't see stars or his mother, only pure blackness enveloped him.

…

Spruce was retching on the ground. "You're lucky there was some yarrow nearby," an cat said to him, "Otherwise, you would be dead by now."

Dead? Spruce tried to respond but his throat was too raw. The cat left him there with his raw throat, in an unfamiliar part of the woods. Spruce curled up in a ball and cried. He hadn't seen his mother and now he had lost his father too. He was alone in a world that now seemed fractured. The Stars had abandoned him and the Savior had led him and his father to their deaths.

Spruce wasn't sure who, or what to believe in anymore. He looked up at the stars for answers, but none came. The night sky just looked cold and distant, just like both his parents. He wiped the tears from his eyes. The son of a Devout doesn't cry. Spruce turned his eyes forward and saw a single butterfly floating under the moonlight. Without any better ideas, he decided to follow the insect.