Chapter Text
Thrushpelt always admired the way Bluefur moved. She walked like flowing water, her sleek blue-grey pelt rippling over sinuous muscle. When they were on hunting patrols together, he often caught himself staring at her as she stalked her prey, weaving so effortlessly through the dense undergrowth.
It was really no wonder when Rosetail started teasing him about his crush.
Thrushpelt didn’t even try to deny it— he was in too deep already. But, it wasn’t until one day when he was daydreaming about the color of Bluefur’s eyes (they weren’t ice-blue, that was much too dull. But, sky-blue was too soft, and the blue of the river too dark… The closest he’d settled on was cerulean) when he realized that it might be more than a crush. He might actually be in love with Bluefur.
Which was a shame because it was as clear as her cerulean-colored eyes that she didn’t feel the same. Thrushpelt didn’t hold it against her— no cat could help how they feel, and for Thrushpelt, being her friend was enough. Everyday, he could still be near her, make her laugh, see her eyes light up as she talked about her nephew, Whitestorm…
But, it still stung when one day Rosetail suddenly congratulated him on “their” kits.
Thrushpelt blinked hard a few times, his thoughts whirling as he replayed Rosetail’s words ‘Congratulations! You and Bluefur must be so excited about the kits!’ again and again in his mind.
“What?” he croaked out finally.
Rosetail’s yellow eyes widened.
“Has Bluefur not told you yet!?” she exclaimed. “Oh! I’m sorry! Pregnancy must be making her mouse-brained! I’ve ruined the surprise now, haven’t I?”
Thrushpelt let out a weak huff of laughter.
So, Rosetail hadn’t misspoke— Bluefur was expecting kits. Kits which certainly weren’t his.
“It’s still quite a surprise,” he reassured her.
Thrushpelt didn’t even have time to sort out all his swirling feelings before Rosetail was nudging his flank with her muzzle, her ginger tail flicking with impatience.
“Well, go on!” she urged. “Go find her! I think she was hunting out near Sunningrocks. You must be dying to speak with her!”
“…Right,” Thrushpelt said slowly, giving his head a shake.
As Thrushpelt obeyed Rosetail, padding out of camp and heading up the sandy ravine, his feelings of shock and a dash of hurt that Bluefur was having kits with someone else faded to confusion. Had Rosetail just assumed he was the father of the kits when she found out Bluefur was pregnant? Or, had Bluefur lied and said that he was the father? And, who was the real father?
Thrushpelt gave his ears a small shake. As far as he knew, Bluefur didn’t seem close enough to any cat in ThunderClan to be mates with them. It was possible that she just had a brief fling with someone, or she decided that she wanted to be a mother without having the tom as her mate or act as the father of the kits. But, if either of those options were the case, why hadn’t she told anyone about it? And, why had she let Rosetail think that he was the father instead?
Thrushpelt bit the inside of his cheek as he reached the top of the ravine and pointed is paws in the direction of Sunningrocks.
The answer to those questions seemed obvious to him: because the father wasn’t in ThunderClan at all.
Oh Bluefur…
Pity stabbed at him. Thrushpelt knew it was possible to love someone who you couldn’t be with— he loved Bluefur after all. But, loving someone from outside the Clan seemed so much more difficult. At least Thrushpelt could still be close to Bluefur and be her friend, but if she had been born in a different Clan, even that wouldn’t be possible.
The sound of leaf-litter crunching under paws pulled Thrushpelt out of his thoughts. Bluefur brushed out of a patch of bracken, her pelt dappled golden by the sunlight that filtered down through the branches, but she didn’t even seem to notice Thrushpelt. Her paws dragged on the frozen ground, and her eyes were downcast and not nearly as bright as normal. Thrushpelt’s heart twisted in pain for her.
“Bluefur?” he called softly.
She came to a sudden stop, her eyes flying to him in surprise.
“Are you okay?” Thrushpelt asked.
Her tormented expression made him want to rush to her, press his pelt against hers, and reassure her that everything would be okay. But, he satisfied himself with just another step in her direction instead. He didn’t want to push too hard.
Bluefur’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard.
“Just going back to camp…” she forced out, starting to pad forward again.
Thrushpelt whisked his tail out in front of her before she could brush past him.
“Stop,” he mewed gently.
Bluefur lifted her gaze to meet his.
“Rosetail has just congratulated me on becoming a father,” Thrushpelt said.
Bluefur gasped, her eyes widening with anguish.
“She couldn’t! She promised!” Bluefur meowed, digging her claws into the ground.
Thrushpelt swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.
“Is she right? Are you having kits?” he asked.
Even though he believed Rosetail, he had to hear the answer for himself from Bluefur. Bluefur’s ears went flat against her head.
“I— I’m so sorry,” she stammered, the words flowing out of her like a rushing river now. “I didn’t tell her that you were the father. She just guessed, and it was easier…”
Bluefur clamped her jaws shut, abruptly cutting off the flow of words. Thrushpelt nodded slowly, his pelt prickling as he tried to absorb what Bluefur had told him… or more importantly, stopped herself from telling him.
“So you are going to have kits?” he breathed.
Bluefur blinked and gave a tiny nod.
“Yes, I am,” she said.
She was staring at him with her huge cerulean-blue eyes. Her expression was defeated and resigned, but she somehow still managed to look so noble— her chin held high, her gaze unwavering. He knew she was waiting for him to ask the question. Ask for the truth.
But, I can’t do that to her.
“I’m not going to ask who the father is,” Thrushpelt spoke softly. “I’m sure there’s a reason why you’ve kept this secret.”
Now Bluefur did break the connection of their gazes, instead staring down at the ground as her eyes filled with shame.
“I’m sorry it didn’t work out differently,” she whispered down at her paws. “I— I would have been happy with you, I know. But, now everything has gone wrong, and I don’t know what to do…”
Thrushpelt gazed at her, his stomach twisting in pain.
Of course he wished that he was Bluefur’s mate, not this other unknown cat. But, Thrushpelt had realized a long time ago that Bluefur would never love him in the same way that he loved her. So, instead he made do with what they had, and he'd slowly come to realize that was enough. But, now hearing her talk about her life as if it was over broke his heart. Just because she couldn’t be with her mate, or because she was expecting the kits of a cat who wasn’t in ThunderClan, didn’t mean that she never deserved to be happy again!
Everything will still be okay! You can still be happy… And, me? I’m not going anywhere.
“You know…” Thrushpelt murmured, shifting his paws. “You can tell the Clan that I’m the father, if you want. I mean, if it makes things easier.”
Bluefur lifted her gaze to stare at him, the shock clear in her eyes.
“You’d really do that?” she asked softly.
Thrushpelt nodded, a quiet purr starting to rumble in his throat.
“You know how I feel about you, Bluefur,” he murmured. “I’d do my best to make you happy, I promise. And, I’ll love your kits as though they were really my own.”
Thrushpelt made good on his promise. It wasn’t even something that he had to work on. He’d been a bit worried at first that the kits would just remind him of Bluefur’s mystery mate, and seeing them would fill him with hurt. But, the moment he laid eyes on Mosskit, Stonekit, and Mistykit, he was filled with nothing but overwhelming love. They were perfect; from the tips of their tiny tails to the end of their little grey noses.
Playing the part of their father quickly turned from a lie to the truth. He really was their father in all ways but blood. He taught them the hunting crouch, helped Bluefur groom their pelts when they trampled through a big puddles of mud, and told them legends about noble ThunderClan warriors.
Now he watched them as they sprung around the camp, trying to catch snowflakes that drifted down from the cloudy grey sky. He gazed at them affectionately, purring as he padded up to them.
“Who’s caught the most snowflakes so far?” he asked.
“Me!” Mosskit announced immediately, her stubby little tail sticking straight in the air. “But, they keep disappearing when I grab them!”
“Well that’s what snow does,” Thrushpelt said, settling down in a crouch next to the kits. “It melts.”
“But, why?” Mistykit chirped, bouncing over to Thrushpelt and clambering up his side.
“It’s just frozen water,” he explained. “So, when you touch it, it gets warm and turns back into water.”
“This is boring,” Stonekit complained, stopping swiping at the snow and reclining back on his haunches. “You can’t even really catch it! I want to play a real game.”
“How about some moss-ball then?” Thrushpelt asked, his green eyes shimmering.
The kits let out an excited chorus of squeaks, the snow immediately forgotten.
“I’ll get the moss! Since my name is Mosskit!” Mosskit said, dashing off.
Thrushpelt purred again, his heart warm.
Mosskit came bounding back a moment later, a large ball of moss clutched in her tiny jaws.
“You throw it, Thrushpelt!” Stonekit ordered.
Thrushpelt obliged, tossing it across camp. The kits went scampering after it as Thrushpelt chased them, deliberately slowing his pace so they got there first.
“We win!” Mistykit declared gleefully, pouncing on the ball and batting it around.
“Argh! You did. You three are so fast, are you sure you aren’t WindClan warriors?” Thrushpelt teased gently, flopping over on his side and panting hard like he was exhausted.
“We’re ThunderClan! Not WindClan!” Stonekit meowed, his nose crinkling up in offense.
Thrushpelt tried to swallow back the purr that threatened in the back of his throat. Stonekit’s wrinkled up face was just so cute.
“Of course. You’re strong ThunderClan warriors,” he corrected himself quickly.
Stonekit puffed out his chest and lifted his chin.
“Yeah! I’ll show you how strong I am!” he said. “ThunderClan attack!”
Stonekit led the charge, throwing himself at Thrushpelt, but his sisters were hot on his heels. Thrushpelt fended them off with feather-soft bats of his paws.
“Oh no! The ThunderClan warriors are too fierce! I can’t beat them!” Thrushpelt gasped dramatically, rolling over on to his back.
The kits climbed onto his stomach, squealing and purring as they burrowed into his tan and white fur. Thrushpelt writhed for a few moments longer before becoming still.
“I surrender!” he said. “You’ve defeated me!”
“What should we do with him Stonestar?” Mosskit asked her brother, narrowing her blue eyes as she gazed down at Thrushpelt with the fiercest gaze she could manage.
Stonekit puffed out his chest, evidently proud to have been chosen as leader.
“I’m not sure Mossclaw. What do you think, Mistyfur?” he asked, glancing at Mistykit.
“We take him prisoner!” Mistykit meowed, prodding Thrushpelt’s belly with her paw.
“He’ll have to be your prisoner another time,” Bluefur’s voice broke in as she padded over to the group. “Because it’s getting too dark and cold out here. It’s time for kittens to go to sleep.”
“Aw!” all the kits whined in chorus.
“Do we have to?” Mistykit asked, turning pleading eyes onto Thrushpelt.
He gently shook them off and rolled back over to his paws.
“Sorry kits, but your mom is the boss,” he said. “You have to do what she says.”
“But, we want to keep playing with you!” Mosskit protested.
“You can play with him later. Thrushpelt isn’t going anywhere,” Bluefur meowed. “Now go on.”
She bent her head and started to herd them to the nursery with a few nudges of her muzzle.
“Fine!” Stonekit sighed, scampering off.
His sisters followed him, and the three kits disappeared into the den.
Bluefur gazed after them for a moment, her eyes soft with love before she glanced over at Thrushpelt.
“Thanks for keeping an eye on them,” she said. “They really love playing with you.”
“Of course, any time,” he assured with a purr. “And, if you ever want to get out of camp and stretch your legs for a bit, just let me know, and I’ll watch them. Or, when they get a bit older and start eating solid food, I don’t mind staying in camp with them if you ever want to go on patrols… you know. Just something to think about.”
“I might have to take you up on that offer sometime,” Bluefur purred, flicking her tail against his side affectionately. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” Thrushpelt purred back at her.
As Bluefur’s tail vanished into the nursery, Thrushpelt got to his paws to head to his own nest in the warriors’ den. As he curled up to sleep, he thought his heart had never felt as warm or as full as it did now with Bluefur and the kits.
That was, until a little over a quarter moon later, when the three kits vanished, and his heart shattered into a thousand little pieces.
“Mistykit? Mosskit? Stonekit?” Thrushpelt yowled, his throat hoarse from shouting.
Some logical part of himself, buried deep, deep down beneath layers of grief and anguish and denial knew that the chances of one moon old kits escaping a fox or a badger, or whatever predator had torn through the nursery, was slim to none. And, those slim chances whittled down to zero if he factored in the harsh elements and snowy weather. But, he had to keep searching. As long as there was no blood, no body, no bones he could still hope that the kits were alive somewhere out there.
But, it had been days with no sign of them.
Thrushpelt came to a stumbling, exhausted stop near the base of a tree, and he leaned against the trunk to rest for a moment. He felt weak and unsteady on his paws, like a gentle breeze could knock him over. He’d barely slept in days; instead he’d been spending all his time ravaging the forest or reenforcing the nursery with brambles to stop more kits from being stolen in the night.
However, while Thrushpelt hadn’t been sleeping, Bluefur was catatonic. She’d barely left her nest since her kits die—
Disappeared. Thrushpelt corrected himself viciously, stopping the thought in its tracks. The kits disappeared.
She’d barely left her nest since her kits disappeared, so full of despair that she wasn’t even able to summon the energy to participate in the search patrols that had gone out to look for them. Thrushpelt didn’t blame her; he couldn’t imagine the pain that she must be going through. The horror she must have felt when she first woke up to find the kits gone... And, besides, he was doing more than enough searching for the both of them.
But, right now he felt like he should go back to camp, or else his legs might collapse right out from under him. And, then cats would have to go out and search for him as well.
I’ll go looking again later. I just need to rest for a little bit.
Thrushpelt turned around, still yowling for the kits all the way back to the ravine.
As he brushed through the gorse barrier, he could feel the pitying gazes of his clan-mates on him, searing his pelt. He plodded across the clearing, tail dragging on the ground, grateful that no one tried to talk to him as he ducked inside the warriors’ den.
There was only one other cat in the den, and his eyes found the unwashed lump of blue-grey fur immediately. She’d moved back to the warriors’ den right after the kits’ disappearance. Privately, Thrushpelt wondered if she no longer felt safe sleeping in the nursery after the predator break-in.
Thrushpelt slowly padded up to her.
“Bluefur?” he meowed.
Slowly, her eyes blinked open. For the past few days, her gaze had been clouded with pain and grief, but her eyes still found Thrushpelt’s, although she didn’t respond verbally to him.
“Do you mind if I lie next to you?” he asked softly. “I could groom your fur. Your pelt is getting dirty.”
Bluefur’s only response was to slowly shut her eyes again, but Thrushpelt took this as a sign of acceptance. He crouched down in her nest next to her and began to groom the dirt and tangles from her pelt. They lied like that in silence for a while, so long that Thrushpelt thought that Bluefur had gone back to sleep, but then she spoke suddenly.
“You can stop looking for them. They’re gone,” she said, her voice rasping from disuse.
Thrushpelt froze mid-groom. It felt like her words had driven a stake right through his heart.
No. No! She can’t give up so easily.
He swallowed hard.
“We can still find them Bluefur,” he meowed softly. “There are no blood trails… that’s a good thing! And, you know how clever Mistykit is, and Stonekit is so strong, and Mosskit so brave! If any kits could survive out there for a few days, it’d be them—“
Bluefur jerked suddenly, her eyes snapping open and her head whipping around so she could glare at him. Her gaze burnt like fire, and her lips curled back in a snarl, causing Thrushpelt to shy back from her in surprise.
“Don’t you get it, Thrushpelt?” Bluefur spat. “They’re gone! Our kits are never coming back!”
Bluefur began to tremble uncontrollably then, the anger in her eyes dimming to be replaced with terrible grief. Her hoarse shout faded to a shaky whimper as her eyes closed, her head dipping down in defeat.
“They’re gone,” she repeated to herself in a harsh whisper, wrapping her tail tightly around her body.
Thrushpelt pressed himself against her, rasping his tongue over her forehead to comfort her. After a few moments, her trembling abated.
“You need to accept it Thrushpelt,” Bluefur spoke again, but in a much more even voice this time. “It’ll just be more painful if you don’t.”
Thrushpelt swallowed hard, screwing his eyes shut for a moment as horrible, aching grief yawned like a pit in his chest.
“I don’t want it to be true,” he whispered.
“Well it is,” Bluefur snapped.
Thrushpelt opened his eyes and glanced at her, and she softened somewhat.
“…Thank you for being here. For me,” she whispered.
Thrushpelt blinked in confusion.
“Well of course. Where else would I be?” he asked. “I belong here. By your side.”
Bluefur gazed at him in silence for a moment before she gave her head a small shake.
“You’re too good for me, Thrushpelt,” she said, her lower lip trembling.
Thrushpelt’s ears pinned back.
“Don’t say that!” Thrushpelt protested, nudging her cheek with his muzzle. “It’s not true.”
Bluefur shook her head again, but besides that, didn’t respond. She just lowered her chin back down to her nest and closed her eyes, lapsing back into silence.