No. Revieeeeeews. Really? Why can't anyone just comment? I know this story is on some people's watch lists, but I don't care. No reviews. Why can't anyone just… I'm going insane from lack of reviews. JUST COMMENT.
I'd write faster if I had any reviews, since it gives me motive. Sorry this chapter took so long.
I already messaged them, but THANK YOU to shadowcharmerdemon, who fave'd my story. I love them forever.
Everyone… I really, really want some reviews. I mean, desperately. It means the world to me, and I can't believe that so few people have reviewed.
The lack of good stories here… is depressing. If anyone has a story to recommend to me, I'd love to read something (anything!) good.
Um, just going to say that seasons may not be continuous with the Warriors series.
Now. CHAAAAAAAAAAARGE, MY WORDS!
Kits. The single word was being branded into Leafpool's mind, the agony sizzling through her head, making her want to yowl her pain out to the camp. The smoke was clouding her senses and her logic, her thoughts a jumble of dark smoke.
It made her want to tear her own stomach off and watch the unborn kits spasm weakly, as she ran with her intestines spilling into the grass, until her kits stilled and she stumbled down onto the ground. That would be good.
She leaned over the mound of poppy seeds, her eyes tightly squinched shut. Outside the tranquility of her den, the
comforting murmurs of ThunderClan life seemed to claw gloatingly at her ears.
Calm, calm, calm, calm, calm…
?
'L-Leafpool?'
She let herself hang in darkness for another moment, then opened her eyes and began to deftly separate the seeds into even piles. 'What is it?'
Squirrelflight was standing behind her, leaning to the left as she always did when she stood straight. 'Can I speak to you?'
'No! How dare you suggest you speak to a medicine cat? I do this for the nice smell of mouse bile.' She swept the piles onto their waiting leaves.
Her sister sighed minutely. 'Leafpool, Brambleclaw and I… we're trying, but we just can't… make kits.' Leafpool winced at the expression. 'Can you help?'
'I've given you the raspberry leaf, haven't I?' At her sister's nod, she let out a long whoosh of air. 'Squirrelflight, you've been trying to concieve for moons. Has it… crossed your mind that…?'
'I might be barren or infertile,' she mewed promptly. 'Yes, repeatedly. But you can fix it, right?'
Her pleading green eyes locked on to her sister's calm ones, that had a turmoil of emotion. 'No. Squirrelflight, if you're barren, there's nothing we can…'
It won't work.
'I understand.' She dipped her head, unable to hide the look on her face. 'It's okay.'
It won't work!
'I'm sorry,' she said softly. 'I'm so sad for you.'
Get it out of your mind, Leafpool, you know it won't work, this is real life, stop thinking about-!
'Sister,' she blurted out. 'Wait. There is… something.'
-it.
…
'Aren't you beautiful,' the elder was mewing, in a croaky voice. Cinderpaw could feel her legs faultering as a cold nose was pressed into her thick fur. 'Just like your aunt.'
She was dreaming, a dream she had lived over a thousand times. 'Just like Cinderpelt,' the old she-cat was rasping, 'Just like Cinderpelt.' Her voice blared on, grating her ears. 'Just like Cinderpelt.'
'Cinderpelt's dead.' Her voice was a scarce whisper. 'I'm not her. She's dead.'
'Just like-'
'Shut up!' Cinderpaw screeched, slashing a claw at the elder's face. For the first time she noticed the straggly gray fur, the familiar face, the identical blue eyes. 'I'm not her!' she wailed hysterically. 'I'm not you! She's dead! I'm not her!'
'Just like Cinderpel-'
She hooked out a claw to slice at the elder's mouth, watching the blood slide out bubbling with salivia. 'No! I'm not! I'm not-'
'Just-' The she-cat was still speaking, despite the scarlet that spilled out of her mouth, despite her frayed tongue. 'Just like Cinderpelt.'
Cinderpaw collapsed, trembling violently. 'No, I'm not. Not her.'
'Just like Cinderpelt.' The withered she-cat was staring at her. 'Just like Cinderpelt.'
…
Rainpaw drifted in and out of sleep, glancing drowsily at the seeing-pool occasionally. It wasn't really nessecary, though; she just had to look at it a few times during the day and the afffairs of the Clans below filled her dreams. She was watching RiverClan hunters, watching the helpless fish flop around skittish. In the nursery, a pretty queen was telling her kits a story; of a foolish apprentice who fell in the river. All of him was eaten but the eyes by a monstrous fish, and soon the fish gained a cat tail, paws, claws, ears. And it hungered to taste the eyeballs of a young cat, to complete the meal. She listened in amusement for a while, then mentally flicked to ThunderClan.
In the leader's den, a spider was spinning a shimmering web in a deep corner. In the warrior's den, a grumbling Mousepaw was clearing out abandoned prey bones. Several warriors still dozed in their nests. In their nursery, Squirrelflight was carefully constructing a new nest for herself. Apprentice's bush, Honeypaw and Cinderpaw slept, the latter with violent twitches.
Bored, she examined the sprawling forest. A mouse scurried over an exposed root. There was the rustle of wind in leaves. The sound of cats. She followed it.
Brambleclaw and Spiderleg were perched at the foot of a tree, muttering to each other. Rainpaw strained to listen.
'Four Clans into tw/beautifulday'
'Yes, it /anditdidn't work? / We've had nice weather late/ it was a good plan.'
'Tigerstar has good/ the pr/ey'
Their speech was garbled, flicking from a hushed, conspirital conversation to a cheerful discussion of weather and prey. Are they doing that on purpose?
'/could succeee/ I know! I can't wait to be a father!'
His cheerful voice sounded rushed and desperate, not like Brambleclaw at all.
'Yes, good StarClan blessed you with/couldit?'
Rainpaw shook her head in confusion and let the seeing go, slipping into empty sleep.
…
She woke before it was entirely dark, only a few silver stars at their full brightness. The gorge was stirring with early activity, Dawnbright and a mentor she didn't recognise were organizing some pointless patrol; she knew she would be roped in somehow. Rainpaw padded over, her paws heavy.
The patrol bounded into the pines, a few apprentices drifting away to hunt. Rainpaw broke away too, managing to swing up a tall tree. She perched among the scented needles, watching a crow, wrinkling her nose at the decayed scent of the prey.
She let herself examine the neat scar on her stomach, trying to repress the sudden stream of memories. Of what she had seen, heard, what they had done to her-
Rainpaw closed her eyes, hearing her own yowls, the angry snarls of StarClan. No no no no no no no
'What's wrong?'
She tumbled promptly out of the tree at Dawnbright's enquiry. Her body throbbed, and when the ginger-and-white she-cat approached her she snarled and lashed out.
She knew what she wanted to do.
After, Rainpaw gazed down at Dawnbright's body, at the gentle eyes, pelt spiky with cooling blood. 'Bye,' she said cheerfully.
As she padded back to the main patrol, she thought how annyoying Dawnbright had been.
