At least Ivypool was a hero.
She had the respect of their Clanmates, even if she didn't have their trust.
At least Ivypool had her sister.
Dovewing was fighting for all of them, nominally, and it wasn't that Blossomfall didn't appreciate it, but she knew it was really because of Ivypool.
It certainly wasn't because of her.
And this wasn't about her, but she was part of it. She was part of the about to the divide in ThunderClan, to Ivypool and Dovewing, to Briarlight, to everything.
Blossomfall didn't want to be bitter anymore; bitterness drove her to the Dark Forest and it drove rifts between her and everyone she loved. But she couldn't shake it.
("We become what we do," Millie said to them, still kits. "That it is why we must do nice things and treat everyone with kindness.")
The storm swept into their territory, trying to wash away what came before.
Blossomfall watched as Briarlight was carried into the leader's den, fearing falling trees, and she tried not to think about it.
It was that night that ThunderClan ran out of time. Blossomfall was always a fast climber, and she was one of the first cats out, watching from above as Bramblestar and Squirrelflight saved her sister.
Briarlight flipped over, and Blossomfall's chest was tight. She tried not to think about the wet and water in her lungs, how much Briarlight already fought to keep them clear.
They staggered to the tunnels, and Millie walked with Briarlight. Bumblestripe had moved on, and Blossomfall knew she should have, too, but it hurt that Millie didn't ask if she was okay.
She was trying to be better. She was trying to let things go, to be understanding.
But it wasn't easy, because Blossomfall watched her Clanmates neatly cleave themselves in two, and she slept next to Thornclaw and Birchfall, and knew that she had no space to complain.
That was just what things were.
It wasn't like she didn't want her sister to be saved.
Even if their relationship wasn't what it was, even if Blossomfall was envious of how easily Bumblestripe navigated it all, even if Briarlight had stopped trying, of course she wanted the best for Briarlight.
They were kin.
But that wasn't the end. Briarlight was loved by everyone. Every litter of kits played with her, growing into apprentices and warriors that dropped by the medicine den just to talk. Jayfeather gave her a hard time about it, but Blossomfall knew he liked seeing her happy. They all did.
Some of the older warriors looked at her with pity, but Briarlight never let it dig into her.
And Blossomfall? She slept on the edge of the warriors den, even as warriors younger than her wormed their way towards the center. She couldn't remember the last time she had a conversation that wasn't stilted and torn.
It wasn't that she didn't want Briarlight to be saved; it was just that she wanted to know ThunderClan would do the same for her.
Millie was fretting, and it was getting under Briarlight's skin.
Even as an outside observer — and stars, when had she become an outside observer to her own kin? — Blossomfall could tell.
But Millie wasn't wrong. Blossomfall would be overstepping, but Briarlight was getting worse.
There was no dryness or warmth here, and worse, there was no effective way to separate the ill from the sick.
Blossomfall tried not to think about it. She went on hunting patrols and looked for dry bedding, even though she knew there was none to be found.
When Bumblestripe went to share tongues with Briarlight, Blossomfall followed.
She was quiet, listening to them talk. They had a rhythm to their conversation, questions clearly coming in a predictable order and shared laughter.
Blossomfall listened, and she could hear the sickness in Briarlight's chest, the way it made her purr sound watery and slow.
Jayfeather sat away from them, and Blossomfall wondered if he knew.
He probably did. He spent more time with her than Blossomfall did.
"You should bring her with you tomorrow," Briarlight said.
Blossomfall tried to figure out who she was talking about. Millie?
"Dovewing hasn't been talking to me."
"Ah, but she'll talk to me," Briarlight said, laughing. "Just send her my way."
Blossomfall hadn't known they were close.
She tried not to think about how little she said, how Briarlight didn't ask her to come back, and how Bumblestripe never asked her to come with him.
After the flood, ThunderClan started to get better.
They rebuilt the dens, and Fernsong started to sleep next to Ivypool, and now Dovewing was sleeping in the middle of the trainees, and it was a small thing, but the divide was coming down.
Thornclaw and Brightheart made up. They shared tongues, again, and Blossomfall wished it was that easy.
How was it easier to get forgiveness for training with the cat responsible for your sister's disfigurement than it was to get forgiveness for wishing your mother payed attention to you?
("How come your name is Millie?" Blossomkit asked.
"I was born with it," Millie said. "And I wanted to keep it."
"But it's different than the others."
"It's not bad to be different, dear. There is strength in it.")
Blossomfall moved nests closer to the center. She stayed close to Thornclaw, if only to give her an excuse, and the next generation of warriors moved into the edges.
They knew of the Dark Forest, but not the way the others did. Ivypool was a hero to them, while the rest of their names faded into obscurity.
It was better that way.
She tried not to think about how long it had been since someone had called her name.
When Briarlight died, it was not from her chest.
That made Blossomfall feel some infinitesimal amount better about it. That no one expected it, not like this.
She said nothing at her vigil. She sat in silence with Bumblestripe and Millie and Greystripe, Briarlight laid down.
Blossomfall buried her muzzle in her sister's side. Beneath the lavender and mint, she could still smell the coltsfoot and lovage Briarlight took often, and the dusty scent of the medicine den.
Even farther below, she could smell her sister.
The sun rose, and no one spoke. Briarlight's name vanished with the morning mist, as her body was carried away. Blossomfall didn't try to follow. She curled up in the warriors' den, as tight as she could, not touching a single still-sleeping cat.
Blossomfall couldn't fix her relationship with Millie.
After Briarlight died, her mother withdrew even farther, and Blossomfall couldn't find an entrance. Every time she tried, she felt like a kit following a warrior patrol, trying to copy shadows of battle moves and win a fight.
There was nothing between them but dust, broken fragments of what used to be there.
Maybe she couldn't fix it because she didn't know how to put things back together. Millie didn't try anymore, and Blossomfall gave up, letting herself be pulled away by time.
(She remembered her mother, standing between her and Squirrelflight at a Gathering. Millie was not a cat of words, but of action.)
But Blossomfall didn't know where to put the pieces, only that the cracks were her fault.