(Originally I accidentally published this when it was a draft.)
So I wrote this because I loved Squirrelflight as a mother to the Three in PO3. She was a good mother, and the way the Three just turned on her as if she didn't raise them like her own kind of ticked me off (but not that much.) Anyways, I remember reading all Warriors books before The Last Hope three years ago, and I used Warriors Wiki for a lot of my information, but there still will be canonical errors. This takes place from Leafpool's Wish to pre-AVoS.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own Warriors. Erin Hunter does.
As a kit, curled up at her mother's belly, she dreams of the future.
(There are always three of them in her dreams. She is older, her ginger fur thicker and her legs longer, and there are three tiny kittens purring at her side. What color or pattern their pelts are, she cannot discern. But it does not matter, because they are hers and she is happy.)
Two toms and a she-kit, she thinks. Two toms and a she-kit. That is what she will have, when she is a warrior, with a tom she loves who loves her back.
In her dreams, she watches them grow. There are three tiny shapes playing in the snow, mewling as the cold fragments touch their paws. Then they are older, they are apprentices, warriors, and they are hunting and fighting and she feels her chest swell with pride. And then — and then there is a flash of fire and they are gone, they hate her, they have been ripped away from her —
Every time Squirrelkit wakes up from these nightmares, finding that she is safe in the nursery, that there were no kittens, she reminds herself that this is not real. A dream. Only a dream, she tells herself, trying not to wake Leafkit and Sandstorm. Nothing's going to happen.
(StarClan has different plans for her.)
Squirrelkit will forget these dreams by the time she is an apprentice. They will leave her, and she will not think of them again. Not for a very long time.
(Much later, the camp will burst into flames around her, and she will shield three trembling shapes with her own body, and finally, finally, she will remember these nightmares once again.)
Squirrelflight is a good sister.
This is why she agrees to take the kits — Leafpool's kits — when her sister tells her that she is expecting.
"I can't do this. Not alone," Leafpool whispers. Her amber eyes are clouded with worry and anxiousness and fear and Squirrelflight cannot stand to see her like this. So she reaches out and presses herself against her sister, supporting her as she shatters.
"You won't be alone," she replies, lapping rhythmically at Leafpool's unruly pelt. "You have me."
(For now, this is enough.)
Less than a moon later, there are three.
They are born in the inside of a hollow tree, so far away from the safety and warmth of the ThunderClan nursery. The black she-kit is born first, her tiny body wriggling as she moves to curl up at her mother's belly. And then, the larger golden tom, who is born with considerably more struggle. But he is strong and healthy, and he joins his sister with a tiny growl, and this is all that matters. And at last — the third and final kitten, a gray tabby tom, who is the smallest, who looks like a scrap of fur amongst the contents of the nest. Squirrelflight lets out a breath of relief when they are born safe and healthy, because with all that Leafpool has given up, she does not deserve to have this taken away from her.
Leafpool worries about them, worries about how small and vulnerable and delicate they are, but deep down, Squirrelflight knows that they will make it. They have to.
"Do you have names?" Squirrelflight asks, a break in the silence.
The tabby queen (medicine cat — she will not be a queen for much longer) pauses, looking down on her kittens with a kind of intensity in her gaze that Squirrelflight cannot describe. "Lionkit for the golden tom, and Jaykit for the gray one," she says, hesitantly, stroking her sons with her tail. "And for the she-kit, I was thinking Crowkit. She looks so much like him…"
"Leafpool." Squirrelflight sighs. She cannot bring herself to take away from Leafpool her last reminder of the love that she could never have. But she knows that if she allows this to happen, if she allows Leafpool to name her daughter after the father that she must never know, their secret will not last two heartbeats.
"I know," Leafpool says, understanding everything. Her eyes are still glazed over with a twisted grief — one that is gnawing away at her heart. But she pushes the feelings away, and swallows the whimper that is rising in her throat. "I know."
"What about Hollykit? For a kit born in leaf-bare?" Squirrelflight makes this suggestion on a whim, its only function being to distract Leafpool from her sadness.
There is silence. And then,
"Hollykit. Hollykit is perfect."
"Mommy," Hollykit mewls, pressing herself into Squirrelflight's bushy ginger fur. She is so young — so innocent. She does not know that she has just lost a mother and gained another, a fact that makes Squirrelflight's heart ache painfully. Mommy is her first word, and she is not granting it to the right mother.
I'm so sorry, Leafpool.
Nevertheless, she forces herself to stay calm. Taking a breath, she pulls Hollykit into an embrace, keeping her warm from the cold leaf-bare wind.
"Yes, dear," she purrs, "I'm your mommy."
(Because what is one more lie?)
Lionkit is the first to open his eyes.
When he is a quarter moon old, Squirrelflight enters the tree hollow, carrying the two voles she had been lucky enough to catch in the cold weather. The kittens are nestled in the curve of Leafpool's belly, fast asleep, their tiny flanks rising and falling rhythmically. Squirrelflight thinks about how peaceful they look, and she prays to StarClan that this will not be taken away from them too young.
"I brought you some fresh-kill," Squirrelflight says, dropping the voles in front of Leafpool. "Is everything holding up okay?"
Lionkit lets out a mewl as the noise shakes him awake. He lets out a yawn, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. And then, suddenly, his eyes are open, and they are staring Squirrelflight right in the face.
"Leafpool!" she gasps. "Leafpool, look!"
They are a shade of bright, clear golden-amber, like the brilliant, sun-streaked sky at dusk. There is a tight feeling in Squirrelflight's chest as she watches the kit — her kit, now. It is as if her heart is expanding, growing with love for her precious son. Lionkit yawns again and lets out a purr, scrambling out of the nest on his unsteady kit legs to greet Squirrelflight.
"I love you so much," she whispers in his ear, holding him tight to her. Lionkit snuggles up into her flank as they settle down into the nest together.
("I love you so much," she whispers to the retreating backs of her two remaining kits. They do not look back. They are tired, so tired, of being deceived, of being in the dark, of being lied to. But these words—)
(These are not a lie.)
She refuses to believe that Jaykit is different.
"He'll be a warrior," she says insistently. "He has to." Because she will not let her son waste away in the elder's den so young. He is capable — she knows that —and she will find some way to make sure he can achieve his dreams.
Leafpool sighs, watching as the tiny kit pounces on a pile of scattered leaves, squeaking as he misses one narrowly.
"We can only hope."
They leave the hollow tree when the kittens are a half moon old. Leafpool is still weak from the kitting, but she insists on carrying one kit. Squirrelflight does now question this, for this is the last time her sister will be the mother to these kittens, and she will not take that away from her.
A patrol finds them and escorts them back to camp. There are exclamations of surprise and relief as a crowd of cats surround them and all Squirrelflight can think is how tired she is.
"These are your kits," Squirrelflight tells Brambleclaw when he rushes to the nursery the moment he gets off patrol. The dark tabby tom settles himself down in the nest next to her, purring. His eyes are shining with all kinds of adoration and love towards the kits that he believes are his. Squirrelflight cannot help but feel guilty, but it is all drowned out when the kittens wake up to look at him.
"Oh, Squirrelflight," Brambleclaw mews. His gaze is bright and warm, and she can tell how much he already loves these kits.
"Our kits — they're so beautiful."
"Is this our father?" Lionkit squeaks, his amber eyes wide.
"Yes," Squirrelflight says, "This is Brambleclaw."
"Does he look like us?" asks Jaykit.
She swallows. "He's a tabby, like you and Lionkit. And his eyes are amber."
"Like me," Lionkit says. He is staring at Brambleclaw with so much love and attachment and Squirrelflight knows that she can never rip them away from each other.
"Yes," Squirrelflight mews, sealing the fate of the three little kits. "Just like you."
"Congratulations on your new litter. I hope they're well," Crowfeather says to her at the Gathering. It is a detached statement, one made of common courtesy. But Squirrelflight cannot stop her heart from pounding hard.
"Oh, they're doing great," she says. Her voice is too quick, too high-pitched.
(Did you know —
Your children sleep in my nest. They call me mother and tell me they love me and I tell them stories and watch them play in the snow. They will never know about you.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry—)
"That's good to hear," Crowfeather mews. Everything in his voice shows that he does not care, he would not have even commented on these kits if it were not for the sake of politeness, and he does not care and he never will.
(One day, he will regret this. One day, he will wish he had known his children better and he will grieve for the daughter that he never had a chance to know, and then she will laugh, with grief and madness and anger and everything in between.)
"I'm Hollystar, the leader of ThunderClan!" Hollykit mewls. She is perched on a rock, her head held high. The setting sun illuminates her black fur, turning it an intricate shade of gold. "We're going to attack ShadowClan!"
"Why can't I be leader and you be deputy?" Lionkit asks, his golden fur bushed out.
"Because that's dumb," Hollykit says, "I'm the leader already. We can't have two."
"But I want to be leader!" Jaykit complains.
Squirrelflight lets out a purr of amusement at the way the three kits are tussling amongst themselves, their fluffy pelts bushed up. "That's enough," she says, "It's getting late. Why don't you attack ShadowClan tomorrow?"
Hollykit huffs. "Fine," she says, "But I still get to be leader."
(They are innocent. They are young and they are innocent and Squirrelflight will fight to preserve that.)
"I wanted to talk about Jaykit's future," Firestar says to her the day her kittens are four moons old. They are sitting together in the leader's den and it is quiet and her kits are already asleep. Squirrelflight already knows what he is going to say, but she feigns ignorance.
"What is there to talk about?" she asks.
Firestar sighs. "Squirrelflight," he says, "I know how much you love your son. But don't you think —"
She whips her head around to stare at him, her eyes blazing. "Don't," she growls. "Don't say it. Jaykit can be whatever he wants. It doesn't matter if he's blind or not —"
"If you're sure," Firestar mews, his face weary.
She stares ahead stonily. "I'm sure."
(She sleeps at night, nestling by her belly the three tiny kittens that are hers in every way but one, and she makes a promise. I will love you. I will protect you. I will walk to the end of the world for you.)
(Later, there will be fire and she will stand facing the raging flames, in front of three trembling shapes, as she spits and growls at the snarling face of a gray-furred tom who threatens to hurt her kits. And then the world will come crashing down—)
"What were you thinking?" Squirrelflight asks Hollykit and Lionkit as they stand before her, heads hanging. "You could've been killed!"
"We're sorry," Hollykit says, her voice so small, so delicate. "We didn't think—"
"No, you didn't think," Brambleclaw snaps harshly, though Squirrelflight knows his tone is just of worry for their kits. "Do you know how dangerous that was?"
"What if you died? What if the foxes got you? What if —" Squirrelflight realizes her voice is getting high-pitched and hysterical, but she cannot stop herself. She cannot — will not — lose her kits.
"Promise me you won't ever do anything like that again," she whispers, her voice hoarse. "I can't lose you."
She watches as they become apprentices, and her heart is threatening to burst with pride.
"They've turned out well, haven't they?" Brambleclaw says, as they watch their three kits -– now apprentices — leave camp for the very first time with their respective mentors.
She purrs. "Don't be ridiculous. They're only apprentices. They still have plenty of growing to do."
Brambleclaw's amber eyes gleam with a thousand kinds of different emotions. Love, adoration, and just a tinge of sadness. "I know," he says, "But a part of me wishes they were kittens again, playing in the snow."
Squirrelflight laughs again, but this time, it is a futile attempt to distract herself from the sadness she is feeling.
Ferncloud and Daisy are understanding when she visits the nursery later that day to confess her worries.
"It's only natural," Ferncloud mews, "To feel sadness when your kits are out of the nursery. After all, you've just spent the last six moons loving and protecting them, and now they're away from you."
"But you'll be proud of them," Daisy adds, laying her tail comfortingly on Squirrelflight's shoulder. "I know I'm proud of my kits."
"I am proud of them," Squirrelflight says, sinking down onto the soft nursery floor. "Hollypaw, Jaypaw, and Lionpaw. They're such great young cats, and I can't wait to see them grow into strong warriors and medicine cats. But I just miss them and I love them so much."
Ferncloud's green eyes gleam with something that Squirrelflight cannot describe. "Ah, but that's just it, isn't it?" she remarks. "You love your kittens more than life itself — so much that it hurts. That's because you are their mother. A mother's love is the most powerful thing in the world."
(Then why does she feel so hollow on the inside?)
"He fell in the lake, right onto WindClan territory," Crowfeather says, glaring at soaking wet Jaypaw. "I had to jump in and fish him out. Can't ThunderClan manage their apprentices?"
Squirrelflight swallows, her heart pounding in her chest. Does he know? He can't. But what if he does? Nevertheless, her voice is steady and calm as she replies. "Thank you for bringing him back." She fixes Jaypaw with a stern stare. "I can assure you he'll never do such a thing again."
Crowfeather snorts. "He'd better not."
As father and son stand next to each other, Squirrelflight has to force her eyes not to jump to every similarity between the two. The lean shape, the blue eyes, the tall ears, and the proud angle at which they hold their heads… She's sure if they added Hollypaw and Lionpaw to the mix, the similarities would become even more obvious, and the secret wouldn't last five heartbeats.
She wonders if it would be better to tell them, right then and there. If the truth would heal, rather than harm. But then she sees in her head three pairs of eyes: blue, green, and amber. They are wide and beautiful and looking at her with so much love.
(Maybe she is selfish. Maybe she doesn't deserve this.
But she will not lose them. She cannot lose them.
And so she keeps the secret, the lie, saving the destruction and pain that will come with it for another day.)
"I don't know what to do," Hollypaw says.
Squirrelflight laps at the glossy black fur of her daughter's shoulder. "Don't worry about it now," she says, "You're still an apprentice. There'll be time later to worry about kits and mates."
"You're great warrior. And you're the best mother. I want to be able to do all that. I want to serve my Clan as the best warrior possible, but I also want to be a great mother. But what if having kits interferes with my plans?"
"Plenty of she-cats have kits and a mate and are great warriors," Squirrelflight mews. "Focus on your training for now, and kits later. You'll make a wonderful warrior and mother, no matter how you look at it."
Hollypaw huffs. "I wish it didn't have to be so hard."
Squirrelflight presses herself close to her daughter's body, offering her what warmth she has. "I know, darling," she whispers. "I know."
"Please don't leave."
Through the haze of pain, Squirrelflight can only barely make out the pitiful mewls of her kits. She struggles to open her eyes, wincing as she comes in contact with the blinding bright light.
She can see. Her body is on fire and she is in so much pain and it feels like she is being split apart. But she can see the three shapes sitting in front of her and looking down at her with so much worry in their eyes.
"She's going to be fine, right?" Lionpaw asks Jaypaw. "She has to be fine."
The gray tabby tom sighs, his tail drooping to the ground. "Leafpool says with enough care, she should be," he says. "But she's lost a lot of blood."
"You've been up all night watching over her." Hollypaw's voice sounds soft and clear over the buzzing in Squirrelflight's mind. "Why don't you get some sleep?"
Jaypaw looks down. "I'm not going to leave her now," he mews wearily. And then, his voice shakes with unusual emotion. "I can't leave her."
Hollypaw touches her brother's shoulder with her tail-tip. "Then we'll stay with you."
Lionpaw growls, his claws grinding the ground in frustration. "I want to claw the WindClan cat who did this."
"Don't be stupid," Jaypaw says with bite in his voice, "The battle shouldn't have happened anyways. StarClan covered the sun. Don't be a mouse brain and start more trouble."
"I know," Lionpaw mews, leaning against his brother. "But she's our mother."
Hollypaw is frantic. Her green eyes wide with worry and anxiety. "She can't die," she mews. Her voice is so soft, so frail, and Squirrelflight wants nothing more than to reach out and touch her — reassure her. "You can't leave us."
Squirrelflight lifts her head weakly. No matter how much pain she is in, she must comfort her kits, who are so scared, so worried. "I will never leave you," she rasps, her eyes drinking in all she can of her precious kits.
(This is a promise.)
She falls asleep later with the three apprentices curled against her like they are kits once again.
In the blink of an eye, they grow up.
One day they are standing on Highrock, their little bodies quivering with both anxiety and anticipation, as they are ready to be made apprentices. And then, a heartbeat later, Hollyleaf and Lionblaze are made warriors. Squirrelflight cheers their names the hardest of all the gathered cats. She watches as their eyes blaze with pride and happiness, as they stand straight and proud as the Clan chants their names. Hollyleaf's beautiful black pelt is glossy and sleek against the sun, and her emerald eyes are shining — glowing in the light of glory. Lionblaze's golden fur and muscular shape are illuminated as he stands over the Clan, giving him a sense of majestic nobility that makes Squirrelflight so very proud of her son.
Her heart is singing happily as she watches her children standing upright in front of the Clan. They are warriors now; they have grown so much from the tiny kittens that were born in the hollow tree. They are fine cats and she could not be more proud.
"Oh, I'm so proud," she says after the ceremony, covering her kits' faces with licks.
Lionblaze squirms under her touch, purring nonetheless. "Squirrelflight!" he mews indignantly. "I'm not a kit anymore!"
"It doesn't matter," Squirrelflight says, "You'll always be my kits."
"And you'll always be our mother." Hollyleaf's eyes are wide and serious.
Squirrelflight runs her tail down her daughter's back.
"Always."
Jayfeather becomes a full medicine cat a few moons later.
(Hollyleaf. Jayfeather. When he comes back from the Moonpool, eyes a little bit brighter, standing just a little bit taller, she wonders hollowly how no cat has yet discovered their secret.)
He lets Brambleclaw and Squirrelflight purr and fuss over him, despite the fact that he is exhausted from the Moonpool meeting. Squirrelflight knows that her son usually does not have such patience, but for his parents, on this occasion, he will make an exception.
"You've done so well," Brambleclaw says. "You're going to be a fine medicine cat."
He does not show it, but Squirrelflight knows that Jayfeather is embarrassed as he ducks his head down, looking at the ground.
"We're so proud of you," she says, "And we'll both always love you."
The gray tabby tom pauses. Looking straight ahead into nothing. And then, "I — I love you, too."
Squirrelflight purrs and presses her nose to her son's cheek. But then there is a disturbance, as two dark shapes enter the clearing.
"What about us, Jay?" Lionblaze asks, amber eyes alight with mischief. "Do we get a "I love you", too?"
Hollyleaf purrs. "Yeah, Jayfeather. That's not fair, is it?"
Jayfeather rolls his eyes. "You two can forget it," he says, his voice full of amusement. "And anyways, I can't stay long. I need to go and sort tansy for Leafpool."
"Not so fast!" Lionblaze darts in front of the gray tom, blocking his path out. "You've got to say it!"
Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw purr with amusement as their youngest son looks at his siblings with an expression of utmost annoyance. They've grown up, yet they're just as close as they were when they were kits, Squirrelflight thinks to herself contentedly. Although everything is now different, there is still that constant to grasp onto.
"Come on," Hollyleaf mews, her voice dripping with laughter. "We don't have all day!"
Jayfeather's paws scuffle the ground, and after moments of deliberation, he finally lets the words escape his lips.
"Fine. I love you, too."
(She holds these moments close to her heart, but she will not miss them until they are gone.)
The world is burning right in front of her.
"Give them up," says Ashfur, "And maybe I'll let you go."
Squirrelflight coughs, the heavy blackness of the billowing smoke choking her. The air is thick with smoke and she cannot breathe, but she stands tall and looks Ashfur right in the eye.
"This is between you and me, Ashfur," she mews, her voice strong and solid. "These kits have nothing to do with it."
Ashfur's blue eyes gleam with something that terrifies Squirrelflight. A sort of hunger. One that cannot be quenched by anything but blood. "Oh, but they have everything to do with it," he mews, his voice too calm, too level for such a situation like this. He is mad, unhinged, and full of so much anger, Squirrelflight realizes with a shudder.
"These are your kits with Brambleclaw." The gray tom's face is alight with some horrid expression of amusement. "These are the reminders that I wasn't good enough for you. The reminder of the pain you put me through. Do you know, Squirrelflight, how it feels to wake up and to curse the sun for putting you through another day?"
He laughs, and all that is apparent on his face is madness and insanity and bloodlust that makes Squirrelflight take a step back. "And now, my dear, my darling, I need you to feel the same pain that you put me through. These kits — they're your everything. If they were to just tragically disappear in the fire … where would that leave you? No cat would ever know."
No. No. No no no no no. Squirrelflight's heart is pounding wildly. She senses the shaking bodies of her kits, her babies, behind her. She can smell their fear scent and every part of her wants to leap at Ashfur and push him into the flames, no matter if she falls in, too. She wants to claw him until he is no longer a threat to the three young cats. She wants to —
"But you won't do that." Squirrelflight sticks her chin out, gaining a sudden boost of confidence. She is crazy, this isn't going to work, she is going to fail —
Ashfur raises his head. "And why is that?" he asks, his lips curving carefully around every pronounced syllable. "I've got you wrapped around my paw right now. You're at my mercy. I can do what I like with all four of you."
"You won't do anything to these kits," Squirrelflight mews delicately, her face impassive, "Because they aren't mine. I don't care for them. It doesn't matter what you do to them."
In one breath, she tells the truth and a lie at the same time. The whole time Ashfur fixes his gaze on her and her kits, contemplating her words, her heart is threatening to break her ribcage, and two words repeat the repeat over and over in her head.
My kits, my kits, my kits, mykitsmykitsmykits—
She lets out a sigh of relief, when finally, Ashfur slinks away into the shadows, clearing their path.
(Finally, finally, she remembers those dreams of the three kits and the fire and the destruction that came with it.
She remembers the three pairs of eyes in those dreams from so long ago. Now, they are looking at her, full of pain and anger and betrayal. But still, even after all these moons, these eyes are the most beautiful things she has ever seen.)
(And so she lets the beauty hold her together until she shatters again.)
"How could you?" Hollyleaf's green eyes are blazing with anger. "You lied to us!"
"Hollyleaf, I—" Her voice is small, uncertain. It would be impossible, she thinks, to feel pain greater than that her kits are inflicting on her with their accusing gazes.
"Who even are our parents?" Jayfeather demands. Her youngest son's body is tensed up painfully, and she wants nothing more than to run to him and comfort him, but she knows he will not accept her touch.
"Your mother… she loved you very much, even though she couldn't raise you."
"No," Jayfeather hisses. "No, if she really loved us, she would've told the truth. You would've told the truth."
"Was it all a lie?"
Squirrelflight looks over to see Lionblaze's dejected expression. The golden tom's usually fluffy pelt has been flattened, making him look small and fragile, like an abandoned kit. Oh, my babies. I'm so sorry.
"No," she whispers brokenly. "I couldn't have loved you more. It didn't — doesn't — matter if we're not bonded by blood. I loved you like my own. No matter what, I am proud to have been your mother."
("Mommy," Hollykit mews, "Will you live forever?"
"No," Squirrelflight says, reaching down to lick her daughter's head, "I'll be gone one day, but I'll always be with you."
"Oh." The small kit lies her head against Squirrelflight's flank, letting out a small noise of contentment.
"I love you," Hollykit says.)
"I hate you," Hollyleaf says, her face twisted with pain and grief and betrayal.
"I know," Squirrelflight says, "I'm sorry I hurt you. Just… I love all three of you so much. I'm sorry."
They do not reply. Instead, they leave without another word, leaving Squirrelflight to choke on the numbing pain coursing through her body.
"Squirrelflight is not our mother," Hollyleaf announces to the dozens and dozens of cats at the gathering.
She closes her eyes. She cannot stop the tight feeling in her chest, though she knew this moment was coming long before now. Was this how Leafpool felt, on the cold leaf-bare day she renounced the title of mother to these kits? Did she feel just as hollow, just as broken, as her kittens were ripped away from her?
There is judgement, and there is chaos and confusion. Cats are screaming at each other, their voices raised and their tails whipping back and forth in anger. Squirrelflight is numb to it all, as she watches the world fall apart.
And then, not long later, Lionblaze and Jayfeather return to camp alone.
"Where's —" Squirrelflight does not want to finish her sentence. No, no, no, no — If she waits for a moment, she will see the familiar black pelt enter the thorn barrier after her brothers. She will see her daughter return home to her family.
Jayfeather lifts his head, not looking at her. "She's dead." His voice is thick with grief and exhaustion. And then, his voice sounds harder. "She's dead and she's not coming back."
(That night, she dreams of glossy black fur and bright green eyes, staring at her accusingly.
I'm sorry, she wails. I miss you so much.)
(The green orbs continue stare at her, unmovingly, until she wakes up gasping for breath.)
"Please, just listen to me," Squirrelflight pleads, taking a step towards her sons.
"No." Jayfeather's voice is stiff.
"We need to talk."
"What is there to talk about?"
Everything. But she does not say the words. Instead, she looks down, scuffling her paws.
"You know," Lionblaze mews, his tone stony. "If you had just told us. Maybe we wouldn't be in this situation."
"I know," Squirrelflight says, "And I regret it."
"And I suppose you regret us, too?" Jayfeather laughs sarcastically. "Don't expect us to listen to you. Hollyleaf is dead. We are lies, mistakes, nothing. How does that make you feel?"
She feels her body tense with irritation, anger. "Don't you ever say that," she hisses. "I regret many things, but the three of you are not one of those regrets. I couldn't be more proud of you, and you couldn't have been more loved."
"I don't care," says Jayfeather, shattering her heart for the millionth time.
(She loses count of the amount of times her kits reject her, ignore her. The only thing that helps the pain are the dreams she dreams at night — the ones with the three purring kittens playing in the snow.)
(And then she wakes up, because StarClan is cruel.)
"I wish," Squirrelflight mews, "That things had been different."
"I know," Jayfeather says. He is staring straight ahead, into the uncertain future that the stars have laid out for him so long ago."But we have to fight, don't we?"
"You were a good mother," Lionblaze says. They are standing in the calm before the storm, taking what they can from the few moments of peace they can get before all hell breaks loose.
Squirrelflight does not look at him. "I tried my best."
"I'm sorry," he says, and then his amber eyes are staring right into hers, and she feels a little less broken.
"Please!" Ivypool screeches. "Please! You have to help her! Hawkfrost was going to kill me, but she saved me!"
Squirrelflight cannot speak. She is staring at the body of her daughter lying on the cold ground. Her fur is stained with the blood that does not show up on such darkness. But it is there, forming a horrible scarlet pool on the ground.
Hollyleaf raises her head weakly. Her eyes are still as bright and green as the day she was born, a fact that Squirrelflight notes with a pang.
"Squirrelflight." Hollyleaf's voice is quiet and raspy, but it is heard. Squirrelflight leans down and laps at her daughter's ears.
"You're going to be fine," she says, rubbing her pelt against the sticky, blood-stained fur of her daughter's. "You're going to be fine. You have to be fine. You can't die."
It is ironic that these are the very words that Hollyleaf had said to her all those moons ago as an apprentice.
"No," the black she-cat rasps. "Squirrelflight … I'm sorry."
She cannot breathe. Her head is buzzing loudly and she can't hear or see anything other than her beautiful daughter. "No. No, no, no, no," she says frantically. "I'm not going to lose you again. There are herbs, medicine, things we can do! Jayfeather will heal you."
"I wished I had loved you better," Hollyleaf continues. "You were … the best mother."
She can do nothing now but whimper, pressing her muzzle against her daughter's shoulder.
"I'm so sorry." The black she-cat's breathing is noticeably shallower, and Squirrelflight lets out a wail as she presses herself against her kit, never wanting to let go.
Hollyleaf's chest heaves up and down. "I love —"
And then her body goes limp, her verdant green eyes glaze over, and she is gone.
("There's nothing to forgive," Jayfeather had said.
Squirrelflight wonders now if that was true, if she could've saved her daughter. If Hollyleaf wouldn't have died so young and so horribly right in front of her eyes.)
(But she doesn't like thinking about such things now.)
Her second litter is born not long after the battle.
There are four, then three, then two, only two left, she remembers with a piercing pain in her heart. She buries them under the willow tree, next to the grave of their older sister who she prays will watch over them in StarClan.
(Funnily enough, Hollykit would've been the name of the tiny pale ginger she-kit, but it didn't seem to fit.)
"Mommy," Alderkit says, one day when he is a moon old, "Who was Hollyleaf?"
She pauses, looking her youngest son in the eye. "Where did you hear that name?"
"The elders were telling Sparkkit and me about the Great Battle," Alderkit says, his voice so soft, so innocent, but full of youthful curiosity. "They said she died there."
Squirrelflight sighs, wondering whether to tell Alderkit the story so young. He deserves to know about his family, she decides, and so she takes a deep breath and begins the tale.
"Hollyleaf was your sister," she begins.
Her two older sons are still with her, but they are not kittens anymore.
Lionblaze is bright and golden and glorious, like the sun. By now, he has kittens of his own, and she is so proud as she watches Fernpaw, Hollypaw, and Sorrelpaw gallivant around the clearing.
(She can still see Leafpool in him. The tabby stripes, the kind amber eyes, the way his lips curve around long words.)
Jayfeather is stony and serious and so skilled, and Squirrelflight is convinced that he is the best medicine cat in the forest. He has come so far from the cranky kit she raised, a fact that makes her heart swell with happiness.
(She sees Leafpool in him, too. Along with echoes of his father on the moor. The lean shape, the gray pelt, the soft fur, and those striking blue eyes…)
(She likes to think that they resemble her, too.)
(When asked how many kits she has, Squirrelflight always gives the same answer.
Seven. Four toms and three she-kits.)
(Maybe life would've been better for the three kittens if Leafpool and Crowfeather hadn't returned. They would've grown up away from the judgement of the Clans. They would've been raised by two loving parents, and would never have reason to doubt their parenthood. They would not have grown up a lie, and the truth would not have shattered their world so horribly. Maybe it would've been better for everyone.)
(But fate brought them to Squirrelflight. And so, she continues answering seven.)
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