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The sun had passed below the tree line some time ago, the sky above dimly lit by the moon hidden behind the clouds.
The sandy-gray tom sat outside the warrior's den, looking up at the darkening sky above. He had hoped that the clouds from earlier would clear so he may watch the beauty of the stars that glistened so far above. To him however, there was only one whose beauty who even matched the stars.
"You going to stand there all night?" A cheery voice joked. His eyes moved to their edges to see a gray head poking out of the den, soon looking up. "Looks like it's going to get cold tonight."
"Seems like it." He turned, giving a friendly smile. "Just going to check and see if Bluefur needs anything before I turn in, perhaps she needs help with the little ones, or maybe some more bedding."
"Ain't that sweet Thrushpelt." The tabby cooed, soon slinking out of the den, using her tail to bop his nose as she passed. "Bluefur is so lucky to have a mate like you."
"Oh hush Rosetail." Feeling the tip of his ears heating up, he lightly pushed her as she moved passed. "Why are you up?"
"I need to see Featherwhisker, paw is still feeling sore from today and I just want to have it check out." Rosetail jiggled her paw before wincing. "Tell Bluefur I said hello."
"I'll be sure to do just that." He dipped his head to her, soon getting up. "Hope the paw feels better!"
The sandy gray warrior swiftly moved towards the nursery. He knew how much Bluefur disliked it when he would constantly swoon over her and her kits, but he could not help it for it seemed that fatherhood came naturally to him, even though the kits he raised were not his.
He peaked his head into the nursery, voice hushed. "Bluefur? Rosetail says hello. Do you need anythi—" His cheery voice halted near instantly as his eyes widened as he found the den not only empty but with a large tear within the wall. He could feel his heart drop as he began to think about the many things that could've happened, but before he let fear and panic take over, he took a few deep breaths. He entered the den, and began to investigate for what might have done this.
First beginning with the den interior, he searched for traces or signs of the pale gray queen and her kits. Then he focused his attention on the tear in the wall, he looked around, looking for clumps of fur, blood, anything that could indicate what tore open the wall.
No clan scent other than our own… no badgers or foxes… Thrushpelt thought to himself, No blood… no resistance… no scents other than Bluefur and the kits.
He let out a sigh of relief with the knowledge that the culprit was most likely Bluefur herself, but that only perturbed him. Soon he found himself pacing around the nursery interior.
"She had left a bit ago… but why?" He asked himself, peaking his head outside the breach, looking around. He was quick to pick up the direction of her and the kits, the scent beginning to wane.
He knew he should alert his fellow clan mates, but time was of the essence. He was one of the better trackers in this clan, and the time it would take to organize a competent search party could cause the scent to fade.
Knowing well that a queen and her kits outside the safety of the clan camp were extremely exposed to the dangers of the night forest, he quickly began to follow their trail, running as fast as his legs would let him. As he followed her trail, he could snow from above beginning to stick to his fur.
With every paw step forward, he could taste their scents get fresher as he pursued them. As he felt his heart race with worry, his mind was in no better position, his thoughts possibly racing even faster than birds flew.
Bluefur wouldn't take her kits out here without intention. He told himself while slinking through the leaf-bare overgrowth, the snowfall steadily increasing. As he ran, he could now recognize the path much better, albeit covered in a thin layer of snow. She is heading towards the Sunningrocks. He halted for a moment. Why would she… He could recall the interest she had when he had mentioned how his brother had been planning to retire from deputyship due to his failing health.
Putting two and two together, quickly realized that this was no coincidence, but what was she planning. He quickly ruled out any thought of her harming her own kits, for Thrushpelt knew that she cared more about them than her own being, and would sooner throw herself into that river than her own kits. He knew there was something he was missing, but the sooner he caught up to them, the sooner he would know, and thus, he began his sprint once more, the snowfall picking up.
If you can hear my pleas Starclan, let them be safe.
…
As he drew nearer, the tempest that raged on had slowed him down considerably, being reduced to a trot, and the scent fading quickly underneath the mounds of snow that fell from above. As he dragged himself through the snow that piled up half the height of his legs, the only thing keeping him warm were the thoughts of the three kits he raised.
He first thought of the hassle he went through to be even involved in the naming process, for Bluefur was fervently against him being involved, but when it came time to name them, she was in no place to do so in her exhausted state, so he politely made suggestions which she happened to take.
He thought of Pebblekit, the small grayish-blue kit with the same fire that Bluefur had when she was younger, and despite being the youngest of the three, he was always causing trouble for the three of them, but he was also was such a kind and sweet kit. His mind thought of how the kit would get his older sister to charge him whenever he returned to camp from both border and hunting patrols. Despite his wayward behaviors now, he could see a great and honorable warrior in him.
He thought of Alderkit, whose gray and white fur was nothing like her mothers, perhaps her fathers? She was a quiet and skittish kit, easily startled by the antics of her brother and sister, often staying close to her mother. He remembered when she finally had approached him after a moon of shying behind her mother, his heart practically melted with nothing but pure love for the kit. He knew she would grow up to be an understanding and compassionate member of their clan.
Finally, he thought of Dewkit, the eldest of the three. She looked exactly like her mother, with the only difference being their eyes and her tail. Where Bluefur's eyes were a beautiful bright blue, similar to the stream in Greenleaf, her daughter's eyes were that of ice frosted over the water. And her tail just as plumy as Snowfur's, may her spirit find rest in the hunting grounds of Starclan. She pranced around camp with the courage of all the warriors in the camp, not afraid to speak her mind. In her eyes he could see a fiery ambition, he could see that she was bound for greatness.
These three kits, no, his kits, are what bring joy into his life, and he needed to be sure that they would be safe, wherever their mother has spirited them off to.
…
Upon reaching the Sunningrocks he scanned around, the scent nearly gone. The wind made the snow pelt his face, but he could not allow this to prevent him from finding them. He pushed forward in hopes of finding them.
"Bluefur!" He called out, moving as fast as he could across the snow-covered border of the forest, hoping to catch a stronger scent.
He called out several more times with no response. He began to worry more and more as he was unable to pick up anything aside from his own scent.
"Bluef—" His call was cut off as he picked up a scent, as faint as it was. The snow now nearing his chest, he slogged through the snow, snow crunching at his paws as he moved forth. Squinting, he could barely see it, but it was enough for him to confirm.
It was Bluefur, her beautiful blueish-gray pelt flecked with many snowflakes that had fallen from high above, unmoving, peacefully still. He slowly approached her, his gut twisting in ways he thought impossible. He silently hoped that he was not too late.
"Bluefur?" He spoke, fear mixed with concern, his voice barely audible over the wind that howled over all around them.
His mind raced as his eyes looked over her snow-covered pelt.
One heartbeat passes. No response. He could feel his heart drop to depths he thought impossible.
Two heartbeats pass. No response. He was close enough to now notice the kits at her belly, all three of them violently shaking, were they going to be alright?
Three heartbeats pass. No response. He couldn't take them all back on his own. He closed his eyes; he could feel tears welling up.
Four heartbeats pass. No response. What would he tell Whitepaw? He puts his forehead on her back, she feels cold, the heat draining away.
Five heartbeats pass. A faint stirring from her. His eyes open, and he sees it. He nearly faints from the pure joy of her still being in the land of the living.
She slowly comes to and her head rises, the snow upon it crumbling off. "Thrushpelt?"
"Thank Starclan you're alive!" Thrushpelt nuzzles her, overcome with joy. "I thought I had lost you and the kits!"
She takes a moment to acclimate herself with her surroundings before her eyes widening with worry and concern. "Thrushpelt! What are you doing out here?" Her eyes began to dart around. "No, no, no, no, no. If you're out here, then the rest of the clan knows I'm gone, if they find out I'm doing this… oh Starclan please help me."
"I came alone to bring you back." Thrushpelt told her before furrowing his brows, slowly moving back, his mind focusing on words spoken. "Hold on… 'Weren't supposed to know'?" Thrushpelt echoed. "You know how dangerous it is out here? This has to be the harshest snowfall of the season, and you didn't want to be found?"
Her mouth was left agape, but she got no opportunity to speak, for his temper fueled by his distress got the better of him. "You not only put yourself in danger, but you put your kits in danger! You know how irresponsible that was of you?" Outraged, he harshly spoke to her to hide the pain that so desperately wanted to surface, the tears he shed betraying him. "You could've died, the kits could've died! What would've I told the clan? To Sunstar? To Whitepaw?"
There was a tense moment where nothing but the violent howls from the wind could be heard.
"You're right. Of course, your right." She told him, voice filled with sorrow and defeat, tears forming on the edge of her eyes. "You of all cats deserve to know the truth."
And so, she told him the brief albeit detailed truth. She explained the vivid dreams from Starclan that warned her of Thistleclaws reign as leader if he was to be deputy, how she planned to make the hard choice: the plan to meet with the kits real father to hand them over, so that she would be able to intervene in Thistleclaws rise to power. To prevent the future of war and bloodshed that he would usher in. This was the sacrifice she had to make to keep the peace.
Once she had finished telling him her reasonings for this venture, Thrushpelt didn't know what to do. He felt… lost. He had no way to know if Bluefur was telling the truth, and he knew he should just force her to come back with the kits. However, if she was telling the truth, he would be interfering with the path laid before her by their ancestors.
Would his intervention be the downfall of his clan? Was Thistleclaw truly this monster that Bluefur had seen?
Another few heartbeats passed by, the silence unnerving Bluefur. And then he opened his mouth to speak.
"Scoot over."
Her brows raised, clearly not expecting this response.
"You alone won't be able to keep them warm until their father arrives, so let me help you."
She said nothing, but her expression said a thousand thanks. Emotions of all kinds flashed before his eyes as she moved so that she would no longer have her back to the elements. He promptly took her place
"I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"For making you worry, and for not trusting you enough."
"It's alright." He moved closer to the kits so that his warmth would be theirs. "I've already forgiven you." As her blue eyes locked with his eyes of bright green, he spoke. "If you had asked, I would've gladly taken your place in the nursery to watch over these three."
"You? A queen?" Bluefur gave a hearty chuckle, the anxiety in her voice fading. "That would be quite a sight!"
"For these three, I would do anything."
…
Time passed, and he allowed Bluefur to sleep while he remained ever vigilant. The worst of the gale had cleared, and now bits of the sky peered through the blanket that stretched across the sky, although the snow still fell softly. He could tell with certainty that it was only slightly past moon high.
In the sky lit by the partially covered moon, he could see in the distance, a silhouette slowly moving towards them. Rousing Bluefur from her slumber, she yawned before looking past him to see the figure. Her posture relaxed as her eyes locked onto it.
"That's him."
He nodded as he got up. As he drew near, Thrushpelt was slowly able to see the defining features of this tom. Broad head and shoulders, massive paws, and a thick reddish pelt.
It was the Riverclan deputy.
He slowly got up to approach him while Bluefur was awakening their kits. As the two toms got face to face, he could easily tell that the amber eyes of this tom were sizing him up.
With apprehension, the voice spoke. "So did Bluefur bring you along?"
"I tagged along unexpectedly." Thrushpelt told him. "I couldn't let Bluefur weather that snowstorm alone."
"Oakheart." Bluefur moved up to him, the kits moving along right behind her. "Thrushpelt is one of my most trusted friends, he covered as their father for the many moons I bore and raised these kits."
"Really?" His brows raised at the mention of that. "I thank you for watching over Bluefur and my three kits in my stead."
"It allowed her to keep her kits, and it gave me a chance to be a father." He smiled now, no malice or anger in his voice. "Now you better take care of these three, or I might have to cross this river and claw your pelt off."
The three of them gave light chuckles.
"Mama, who's that?" A tired squeak pipped in, yawning shortly after.
"He smells weird." Another kit voiced her mind.
"I am Oakheart." He smiled, trying to make himself less intimidating. "I am your father."
"Really? I thought Thrushpelt was our dad." Alderkit questioned.
"You are right in a sense Alderkit." She gave her kit a lick of the ear."Thrushpelt raised you as any father would, but he did not sire you."
The kits seemed to think this over, but putting no real thought into it, perhaps it was the exhaustion of being away from camp for so long.
Thrushpelt looked to both Oakheart and Bluefur. "I think it would be best that you two choose new names for the kits, so that when apprenticeship comes along, questions aren't asked."
"Riverclan names… it probably would be best." Oakheart nodded in agreement, looking to Bluefur. "How about… Mistykit…" He pointed at the eldest of the three kits. "Mosskit…" He motioned to the white and gray kit.
"And Stonekit." Bluefur renamed her youngest kit, refusing to let their father name all of them. "Those are your new names now little ones, now don't give your father too much trouble." She gave each one a loving lick. "Oakheart will take you back to his side of the family now." Her voice started to crack. "But never forget that I love you. All of you."
"I like it here in the forest!" Newly named Mistykit protested. "I don't want to leave!"
"But you must." Thrushpelt got to the eye level of the three of them, the weight in his chest getting heavier, trying his best to be strong. "Just know that Bluefur and I never forget the wonderful times we had with you."
"This is goodbye Oakheart." Bluefur words were but louder than a whisper. "Take care of them for us."
"I promise." The reddish-brown tom nodded to her. "Come one my kits, it is time for us to leave." He picked up Mistykit by the scruff, and through the mouthful of scruff, he added. "You two can have a badger ride all the way there if you want."
Although hesitant, the two other kits got onto his back, Oakheart slowly making his way back to Riverclan.
As the two of them stood there, they could see their silhouettes get farther and farther away in the moonlight. He never thought this night would turn out like this, but it was the hard choice for the better.
Bluefur began to sob, pushing her head into Thrushpelt's shoulder.
"Come on." He put his head on top of hers, trying his best to comfort the queen. "It is time for us to go."
Another moment went by before she could even move on her own volition. As they began to make their way back to camp, the trip was silent. Her bright blue eyes were filled with nothing but the pain and sorrow of losing her kits, and Thrushpelt understood her pain better than anyone else, but he could not shed any more tears. He knew that they would be safe with their real father in Riverclan, and as their father, that is all he could ever ask for.