Marigoldpaw heard murmurs outside the den. They drifted around her, asking for attention, but she refused. She refused again when they got louder, and when the murmurs turned into Lightpaw asking her, voice gentle, if she was alright. She turned her head away.
"It's been two days," she heard Darkpaw mutter. Lightpaw shushed her.
"Larkheart said to let her grieve for as long as she needs to," Lightpaw hissed at her. Darkpaw sighed.
"But it's going to be hard to clean the den around her." Darkpaw's voice held a hint of a whine.
"Get over it."
Marigoldpaw wished they would shut up. It was hard enough sleep in the apprentice den without.. without Hawthornpelt. Hard enough to listen to Lightpaw and Darkpaw, to hear them bicker and squabble, just like she'd always done with.. She squeezed her eyes shut against the flare of pain in her chest and buried her head deeper into her nest.
Lightpaw and Darkpaw shuffled around her, dragging out bits of moss from the back of the den. It was only when they moved closer, disassembling Hawthornpelt's nest that she moved, shaking off the moss and grass, begging, "Stop." She stood up on lurching paws, stumbling out of her nest. "Let me. Please."
Darkpaw dropped the bit of moss she'd picked up without a word, but Lightpaw dipped her head in a nod. Marigoldpaw kept her head down, staring at the half-torn apart nest.
It still smelled like him. Only a little, but enough, enough to send splinters of pain down her throat. She pawed apart the nest, tearing it beyond recognition, and stopped. She stepped closer, dipping her head toward a flash of mottled brown.
The feather. That day felt forever ago. Their apprentice ceremony.. The feather. She still had hers, she'd saved it from every cleaning, but she hadn't known he'd done the same. It had felt sentimental and silly to share that. Like he'd laugh at her.
But he had kept his, too. It had been important to him. Her breath burst out of her in a gasping pant, and she heard the flurry of Lightpaw checking on her. "Fine," she mewed. "Fine, I'm okay," but she wasn't. Love and grief tangled in her heart, weighing her down, making her head spin.
She pulled the feather from the moss and set it on her nest, tucking it in where she kept her own. There. Together. Things that belonged together should stay together.
Lightpaw touched her shoulder. "Let me help you," she whispered. "Please. If I lost Darkpaw.. You shouldn't carry that alone. Let me help, okay?"
Marigoldpaw sucked in a trembling breath and nodded. Her legs were shaking as she and Lightpaw cleaned up the moss, taking it outside the den. "I'll do the rest," Lightpaw mewed. "When was the last time you ate? You should go get something."
"Where's Poppyface?" Marigoldpaw asked instead. She wasn't hungry. She didn't know if she'd ever be hungry again.
Lightpaw hesitated. "I think.. She might be in the warrior's den."
"Thank you," Marigoldpaw murmured. She paused for a moment and then nudged Lightpaw with her head, only briefly. The older apprentice nudged her back, and then Marigoldpaw was moving away, leaping half-heartedly up ledges until she got to the warrior's den.
"Poppyface?" she whispered inside. There was only one nest with anyone in it, a familiar shape Marigoldpaw knew like the back of her paw. The shape moved, sitting up into a shaft of light, and Marigoldpaw stepped inside. "Poppyface," she whispered again, moving closer.
"What is it?" her mother asked. Her voice was flat. Marigoldpaw's steps stuttered.
"I miss you," she mewed, hope tinging her tone. Poppyface didn't reply, and Marigoldpaw chanced stepping closer. She waited for Poppyface to lean towards her, waited for anything at all, any minor comfort her mother was able to give.
Instead Poppyface said, "This is the warrior's den," in that same flat tone. Marigoldpaw felt her stomach drop.
"I just..," she mewed uncertainly. "I miss you." Please, she added to herself. Please, Poppyface. We're all we have.
Poppyface sighed. Her paws slid out from under her and she laid back down, curling up and turning her face from Marigoldpaw.
"Poppyface," Marigoldpaw whispered one last time as she backed out of the den. Poppyface didn't move again, didn't even twitch an ear. Marigoldpaw left.
/
"I'm glad you decided to come out here with me," Squirrelwhisker meowed. "I've missed you."
Marigoldpaw didn't answer. She wanted nothing more than to curl back up in her nest and stay there forever, but.. Something had told her she couldn't. She'd only stopped in to the apprentice's den long enough for Lightpaw to tell her, "I saved your feathers," and to see that she had, that the feathers were buried into the new moss Lightpaw and her sister had set up.
"Hunting practice?" Squirrelwhisker asked. Marigoldpaw looked up to see a hopeful expression on their face.
"Whatever you want," she mewed eventually. Squirrelwhisker's expression dropped.
"Well," they said eventually. She could hear the disappointment in their voice. "How about we just.. See what the day brings."
"Okay," Marigoldpaw mewed, letting Squirrelwhisker set the pace and direction.
They walked for a long while. Too long for Marigoldpaw to keep track of, but then, maybe it wasn't such a long while at all. When she looked back, she could clearly see the ridge the camp lay on.
"I talked to Russetfoot," Squirrelwhisker mewed eventually. Marigoldpaw glanced up at them. "She's agreed to let you go to the next Gathering."
"Why?" Marigoldpaw mouthed, unable to make a sound.
Squirrelwhisker understood anyway. "I think it'll be good for you. It would be your second, right?"
Marigoldpaw remembered the first Gathering, right after they'd become apprentices, a little of every clan calling her and Hawthornpaw's names. He had been so excited.. So had she, now that she thought of it. Funny. "Yes," she said eventually, remembering that Squirrelwhisker expected an answer.
"It'll be okay, Marigoldpaw," her mentor said gently. "It's something to look forward to, alright?"
"Alright." Squirrelwhisker didn't seem satisfied with that reaction, but it was the only one Marigoldpaw was able to give.
"Come on," her mentor said after a moment. "Let's keep going."
But it didn't get better, and Squirrelwhisker gave up soon enough and took them back to camp. "We'll try again later," they said to Marigoldpaw. "You'll feel better soon, and we'll get back to work."
Marigoldpaw hoped so. Squirrelwhisker seemed a little disappointed.
They took the long way around back to camp, avoiding the area where Hawthornpelt had died. Maybe she'd visit it someday. Maybe not. She still hadn't been to the Vale, where he'd been buried.
She sat down at the top of the cliff, trying to figure out if she was hungry or not. She still hadn't eaten. It didn't feel like it mattered. Squirrelwhisker padded across the plateau, sitting beside Ivyclaw. Marigoldpaw's stomach twisted a little. No, she wasn't hungry.
The wind blew their conversation towards her. "How are you holding up?" Squirrelwhisker asked.
"As well as can be expected, I think," Ivyclaw muttered. She hesitated. "How.. how is Marigoldpaw?"
Squirrelwhisker shook their head. "She left the camp, but.. I don't know, Ivyclaw. I don't know."
Marigoldpaw dipped her head as they looked over at her. She felt their eyes staring.
"It's all my fault," Ivyclaw choked out. "I knew that cliff was unstable. I thought he could handle it, I.." The sorrow in her voice ignited something in Marigoldpaw's stomach.
"Why did you let him."
Ivyclaw jerked in surprise. Marigoldpaw's voice was flat and simmering. "Then why did you let him? You knew he needed work at climbing." She found herself on her paws, striding toward Ivyclaw.
"I'm sorry," Ivyclaw mewed.
"Sorry? He's dead. He's dead!" Her voice rose, and she knew she was drawing the attention of everyone on the plateau. "He shouldn't be! There was no reason for him to die!" Her voice broke. "Why didn't we help him," she mewed, volume falling. "Ivyclaw, why didn't we help him."
"I don't know," Ivyclaw whispered. "I wish I knew. I wish I had helped him."
"It's too late for wishes."
"I wish it wasn't," Ivyclaw mewed, hanging her head. Marigoldpaw let herself walk the last couple of pawsteps forward, until the top of her head rested against Ivyclaw's shoulder, and Ivyclaw raised her head until it was resting on her back.
"I don't blame you," Marigoldpaw murmured. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you," Ivyclaw whispered back, the relief and sadness in her voice palpable. "I'm sorry too." They stayed like that for a long time, comforting each other, until finally Ivyclaw pushed Marigoldpaw away gently. "Let's get you something to eat," she suggested, soft. When Marigoldpaw nodded, Ivyclaw sighed.
"Here," Squirrelwhisker mewed. They set down a bird in front of her. She looked at it for a long time until Ivyclaw nudged her gently, and finally Marigoldpaw took a bite.
It tasted like sand, but Marigoldpaw ate it anyway, if only to please her mentor and Ivyclaw.
