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Snowkit only trusts his parents and Stonekit, he decides. His mother says else should include Ivykit in there but Ivykit tore his ear because he took the last mouse. Clearstone had said that's just how littermates were, but he'd also given Snowkit a withering glare that said he shouldn't have taken the mouse. It was obvious their uncle picked favorites and Ivykit had been his since Shimmer fall had started pulling Snowkit aside and teaching hunting crouches.
He thought Ivykit might end up being a medicine cat, which seems nice because then she'd be out of the den and away from his other ear. Snowkit could focus on proving himself as the superior Snowkit, since this mangy rogue had brought his son in who was also named Snowkit. He tried to pay no attention to the kit who stole his name.
Shimmerfall told him he was going to be a great warrior and that was all Snowkit needed to hear.
Stonekit declares Ivykit will be his mate and ends up in the medicine den for it. It's nothing too much, just a tear at the top of his ear. He flicks it and looks at Snowkit, a teasing smile on his face. “We match!”
Snowkit ducks his head, feeling shy in a way he doesn't understand. “I guess so.”
In the end it's not Ivykit in the medicine den, but Stonekit with a wide grin and a twinkle in his eyes. Snowkit should understand, Stonekit lost his mother before he even got to know her. He wants to see her again.
But when it's Ivypaw settling next to him in the apprentice den, eyes narrowed, he can't help but feel a pang in his heart. His sister is upset, and he wants to ask why because despite how terrible and volatile she is, she is his only littermate.
Snowpaw refrains. The tear in his ear aches and he turns away, letting Ivypaw’s troubles stay with her.
(He still notices the curl of Tigerfang's lip as he comes to pick her up for training. The calculating stare in his eyes. The gleam of his teeth. His sister can only hide the scratches on her side so much as the moons go on.)
Stonepaw is the one who takes thorns out of his paws and binds his minor cuts with cobwebs. He always takes the time to treat Snowpaw personally. The white apprentice relishes the feeling of his best friend’s paws down his pelt.
He also loves Stonepaw’s passion for healing. He'll lay by the medicine den and ramble about different herbs he's learning, or tell a funny story of Clearstone getting stung in the nose by a bee looking for honey. Snowpaw soaks them up like the trees to sun.
Snowpaw speaks too. He mentions how Slatepaw brought him a piece of prey to share with a more than friendly smirk. He sees as Stonepaw stiffens from where he's sorting herbs and his smile grows a little bit more tense. Something in Snowpaw’s breath catches.
“Well,” Stonepaw whispers, “I asked Goldpaw to help me gather herbs.”
Something sharp rose in Snowpaw's stomach. So that's how this would be played.
Shimmerfall takes him outside. “You're spending an awful lot of time in the medicine den.”
Snowpaw opens his mouth, a perfectly practiced lie already in place. He simply just wants to keep their healer company. He longs to spend time with Clearstone. Stonepaw is nothing more than kithood friend.
His father's hazel eyes are filled with a sweet kindness that makes him nauseous. “I just wanted to make sure you're well. Or that you're not neglecting your training.” Then something sparks in his gaze and he grins, “Or do I need to tell your uncle he should be getting a new apprentice?”
A sputtering cough rings trough the air. “Dad, Clearstone already has an apprentice.” He couldn't take Stonepaw’s position.
Shimmerfall shook his head, his smile unwavering but his eyes sad. “Well, Clearstone’s always been so close with Ivypaw, I thought maybe it was the same with you.”
They both knew Clearstone talked to his brother as much as Ivypaw talked to Snowpaw. (Not much at all.)
“I'm quitting,” Stonepaw whispers to him one day in the dead of night. Snowpaw wakes up, bleary and sure he didn't hear him right.
“What…?” He blinks, meeting familiar blue eyes that make his heart lurch in his chest, even at this hour. Stonepaw's lip wavers and he seems on the verge of sobbing.
The silver and white tom looks back and Snowpaw sees Raincloud’s eyes watching them intently in the dark. Stoneleaf's father in a terrifying tom, all raw muscle and shrewd strength. He is nothing like his lithe, graceful son and yet he's never awknowledged that.
Stonepaw inherited his mother, Echostar’s, form. And here, in the moonlight his pelt shines in a way that reminds Snowpaw he is star-touched. Bright and unwavering, his mother when to very stars, shedding her divinity of leadership to bring him into the world. He was destined to be a medicine cat, conversing with the heavens and spinning their words for mortal ears to hear.
But Raincloud would never understand. Snowpaw remembers Shimmerfall’s eyes, all pride and expectations. In a move that makes him feel brave, he scoots over. Stonepaw practically falls into his nest.
They will have to please their fathers tomorrow, but tonight Snowpaw doesn't care. Tonight, he will comfort his fallen star.
He earns his name for his hunting skills. Snowleap looks at Stonepaw, still in the apprentice den. He looks at Snowleap with a warmth that makes spreads through his body from his nose to his tail. Then Snowleap’s gaze wanders to Ivyfrost, already a warrior for a moon with more scars than most twice her age.
Tigerfang sits beside her, looking at her and then his young son, Hawkpaw, who looks as full of rage as his father and watches Ivyfrost with a hunger that makes Snowleap's blood boil.
The last gaze he meets is his parents. Whitemist is eloquent as ever as she congratulates him. Shimmerfall is all smiles, each one carrying a weight behind them that makes Snowleap choke. “We're proud of you, son.”
It's a moment that should make him feel happy. This should be the best day of his life, but it ends far too quickly.
“You know, Slateflight wanted to go hunting with you as a congratulations. I think she'd be a good hunting partner for you.”
His brain sticks on good and partner and he thinks he's going to be sick.
(Slateflight is the daughter of Briarbee and Tigerfang's niece. The same Tigerfang his sister couldn't meet the gaze of. The one his father swore was a good warrior and his best friend, but Shimmerfall didn't know. He was just trying to be a good father. That's what Snowleap had to believe.)
He goes on more solo hunts now more than anything. Just to get out of camp away from Shimmerfall and his platitudes and promises of a bright future he never asked if Snowleap wanted.
Stonepaw now had Lilypaw hanging on his every word. He would eat prey with Moonpaw and the she-cat would watch him with a look of rebellious disinterest. (She was Tigerfang's daughter, it was too easy to see in the slope of her shoulders and their cruel eyes. Yet Stonepaw preferred her company to Snowleap’s these days.)
He scents something in the distance and began to track it, even though the old rain smell from that morning. At the end of the trail, he finds…
A pretty she-cat.
Snowleap swallows as she turns to look at him. Her eyes are spun gold against a bright ginger pelt. She flicks one gray ear and meets his gaze.
“Excuse me? I'm so sorry, my housefolk seem to be gone and I don't know where they went-”
“I'm Snowleap,” he blurts out, feeling very foolish. She's lost and she needs help. He can't be standing here blushing like a new apprentice.
“Jaida,” the she-cat smirks. She's a kittypet, he can smell it on her. A layer of cream and luxury coat her. She's slightly plump where he is thin from leafbare. But if she stays out here, she'll die.
The thought hits him suddenly. He motions with his tail. “I don't know about your twolegs, but I have some prey I can share.”
Stoneleaf earns his warrior name. Snowleap wants to run up to him, to embrace him because they'll finally be together again.
(He recalls the warmth in his chest when they'd curled up together the night before they became apprentices, both nervous and out of their league.)
But it is Lilypaw who runs up to him, flushed to her ear tips and all genuine smiles. Snowleap hangs back as Stoneleaf nuzzles her head, purring. His throat tightens.
He turns away to see if Slateflight wants to go hunting.
(Stoneleaf's eyes linger on him as he goes.)
If Stoneleaf is going to spend his time with every she-cat and ignore him, Snowleap is going to need new friends.
(Slateflight doesn't count. Even if for some reason she seems to have feelings for him, she's sharper than jagged stone.)
This is when Swiftheart comes into his life. She is unlike anything else he knows. She's kind to him, doesn't turn him away to take- who was it today? Tawnyfrost?
“You seem sad,” she tells him. Her voice is soft-spoken, a welcome contrast to Slateflight’s sharp husk. Snowleap feels the observation in his bones and he swallows.
“I am,” he admits. He's not sure why it's easier to say this to an almost stranger than his best friend who won't look him in the eye. Or his father who watches him with a wide grin and appreciation that Snowleap knew he would lose if Shimmerfall realized what a disappointment he was.
(Seeing an ex-kittypet and having feelings for an old medicine cat apprentice. How low he'd sunk. His ancestors were likely howling in Starclan.)
Swiftheart leans against him and he doesn't break the contact. He needs this. “Maybe you can tell me about it while we hunt.”
It was getting to be the warmer seasons, with more prey. This also meant it was a good time to try and teach Jaida how to hunt. Snowleap knows he more than has the skill, that much is obvious. He's not rising to be the best tracker because he can't hunt. He enjoys sniffing out prey. There's something in searching for clues, broken branches and scraps of fur, the thrill of losing a scent trail only to find it again that lets him lose his troubles in his focus. He isn't Snowleap, the son who can't just get himself together and stop lying to his father. (Things with Slateflight are wonderful, Dad. No, I don't have a kittypet I sneak out of camp to see. No, I'm not in love with my former best friend and get jealous when he breaths the same air as someone else. Ha.)
When his parents praise him after a hunt, he can revel in it. When Ivyfrost shoots him a jealous glare after bringing back a big rabbit, or a large fish, he can smirk and feel like he deserves to.
Jaida looks at him, frustration burning in her eyes. She hates this, that much is obvious. “How am I supposed to get this?” she snaps, tail lashing. Jaida is all snark and a stoked fire when she's not desperate for food. Most of the time, it makes Snowleap laugh, but right now she is testing his patience.
“Jaida, love,” he purrs, reminding himself that he cares for the she-cat in front of him. That he needs her as much as she needs him. (And that she needs him, that's an important part of whatever is happening between them.) “You just need to be patient.” He presses his paws against her soft pelt. Winter left her leaner than she was before, all skin and bones. But with newleaf breaking, his concern wavered. Still, it was important she could feed herself.
The tortoiseshell hit him in the face with her tail playfully. “You know patience has never been my strong suit.” Snowleap feels his ears go red. He distracts himself by directing her front paws forward and pressing his nose to hers.
“Keep your weight center,” he breathes, voice near a whisper. Jaida shudders under his touch. Snowleap scents something in the breeze. “Mouse up ahead,” he nodded.
“Maybe if I catch it, I can prove myself to your clanmates too,” she smirks. He shifts, uneasy.
“Maybe.”
And like that, she's off.
“You're exhausted,” his mother comments on a patrol. Snowleap doesn't want to have this conversation. He tries to pretend not to hear her, but Whitemist has never been a cat who takes being ignored lightly. “I'm worried about you.”
He flicks his tail to dismiss the thought. Whitemist narrows her eyes and Snowleap swallows. He knows that look from his kithood days, he's in trouble. “Shimmerfall is worried about you.” That makes him flinch. “I know your dad isn't the most observant when it comes to things, which is why when he notices, it's bad.”
He opens his mouth to explain. He doesn't know what to do. He has a mate and it's someone his parents would never approve of. As hard as he tries not to, the sight of Stoneleaf offering to take Moonpaw out of camp made his stomach churn. There was something wrong with him. Whitemist cuts him off.
“You don't like Slateflight.” And of course, his mother already knows. He braces himself, closing his eyes.
The white tail tip laid on his shoulder makes him jump. “And that's okay.” He opens one eye, confused. “I know your father wants you to be mates with Slateflight because he and Tigerfang are such good friends and Ivyfrost won't even approach Hawkstreak. But just because she likes you doesn't mean you have to pretend.”
The relief in his chest is palpable. It is also brief. “Swiftheart is a lovely she-cat.”
His world freezes. “Swiftheart?” Whitemist purrs, a knowing look in her eyes. But she can't know because she's wrong. “I've seen how you look at her. Like she's the solution to all your problems. It's sweet.”
“No, Mom, you don't-” Swiftheart is just a friend. His only friend really. To pursue her like that could ruin everything. And besides, he has Jaida to worry about. “We're just friends.”
“A mother always knows,” Whitemist winks just as he fights the sinking feeling in his chest.
(He has to end this. His family would find out. Ivyfrost always had Clearstone to back her up, a medicine cat on her side. From the way he always blamed Snowleap when Ivyfrost hurt him, that wasn't likely to change. But Shimmerfall, his loving proud father…
Well, Snowleap knew what kind of son he had wanted. It was what he pretended to be.
Snowleap had to fix things. Jaida would understand this was never meant to last. Should would have to. He had to do this, even if it killed him.)
“I'm expecting kits.”
He was floored. Blood rushed into his ears, making a pounding sound that he thought would cause his chest to burst. This wasn't how things were supposed to go. It was a tear in his carefully laid plans. Jaida, I'm sorry, I see you anymore. There's a group on the other side of the river, harsh but their new leader seems fair. You'll be safe. She trusts (trusted) him, she would have gone. And Jaida would be safe and Snowleap wouldn't have to worry.
That should have been the end of this.
“You can't,” he hissed. He's not ready to be a father. He's just started his second season cycle. He has plans, dreams, aspirations. (Shimmerfall does, at least.) Snowleap doesn't have time for this.
“Well, you should have thought about that before you got me pregnant,” Jaida retorts with all her usual snark. Still, an edge of playfulness is still there. She's giving him the benefit of the doubt. Because she loves him. The realization hits harder than any blow. She's told him those three words before, but he wasn't sure she'd meant it. He'd never been able to bring himself to return them. “Look,” she sighs, more serious now, “We can do this.” Her paw is on his. “I'll join your clan. We'll be a family. You, me, and…” Her eyes brighten. He thinks he's going to be sick. “And the little ones.”
Snowleap can picture his father's face, vivid in his mind. The way his mouth would draw into a hard line as he fought back disappointment because Snowleap was his only son. His mother would wear her coldness more openly. Of course, she'd be polite to Jaida but there would always be that undercurrent of how she wished anyone else was in the nursery mothering her grandkits. They would say they still loved him, but Snowleap saw the burning looks they sent Ivyfrost after she'd refused Hawkstreak’s offer to be her mate. They would gaze at him and wonder where they went wrong. He would no longer be the good kit, their future, all they had. Maybe they'd finally have that second litter they'd talked about. A second chance.
(Whitemist didn't actually want more kits. But perhaps she'd cave if she was just stuck with him- the real him- and Ivyfrost as kits.)
Well, he couldn't have that.
He wasn't sure what to do after that. He felt ill. Bloody queens and mewling kits plagued his nights. He was distracted, Shimmerfall had said. If only he knew. (He could never know.)
Unsure of where to go, he finds himself at Swiftheart’s nest one night, unable to take anymore screaming in his dreams. Jaida's face as she cursed his name was etched into his memory, never to leave. The brown and white she-cat looks up at him, green eyes widening. “Snowleap, you look terrible-”
“I can't sleep,” he mutters. That was true at least. For once he didn't have to have lies dancing on the edge of his tongue. Swiftheart looks about the den, then shifts over and motions for him to lay down. Snowleap hesitates. It feels wrong to lay so close to another she-cat after Jaida, especially one he is as close to as Swiftheart. But it's never been like that. He swallows. He's weak and he doesn't want to be alone, so he climbs into the nest.
The way Swiftheart curls around him is a balm for his racing heart and tense body. It's like he's wound up for a hunt but with no focus, nothing to direct the energy towards. She begins to groom his neck and the restlessness seeps out of him, like a lap of the river sinking into sand.
When he feels sufficiently relaxed, she decides to go for the heart and cut him open. “What happened?” He meets those bright green eyes of hers, shaking in his shame. Snowleap hasn't told anyone about the night days before, but he's desperately tired of holding everything in. So, he takes a deep breath and lets it out. He tells Swiftheart about how he met Jaida not long after his ceremony. How everything had piled up. How much Shimmerfall would hurt if he learned the truth.
He spoke of the kits and her eyes widened. Her lip curled for a moment and he was ready to face her rejection, to hear her disgust because he'd fathered half-clan kits. He surprised her by going, “Is she still nearby?” His blinked at her.
“I'm not sure,” he admitted, “I tried to direct her towards the Haven, but I don't she went.” She'd vehemently opposed all his suggestions other than taking her with him. Swiftheart shook her head, hissing.
“Well then, we have to get out there!” she snapped, “Snowleap, those are your kits. You can't just leave them.”
“But I made a mistake!” he responded, “Do you really think they'd be happy in a clan that wouldn't accept them?” He already knew what it was like to have the weight of expectation thrust upon him. They would be happier away from the clan.
He reeled back when Swiftheart rounded on him, fangs bared as she was inches away from his face. “Then protect them from that! Be better than Shimmerfall!” He didn't even know how to respond to that. Shimmerfall had only ever wanted the best for him.
(That had always been true. It had to be, because if not…
He remembered Stoneleaf curled up next to him in the apprentice den and shivered.)
“I know you're scared,” Swiftheart’s expression softened, “But those kits are going to need you. And you won't be alone. You'll have Jaida. And you'll have… me.” Her smile was dazzling for a moment, striking him. He nodded, filled with an odd sense of determination he'd never known.
“Then let's go.”
There was an obstacle he'd forgotten about in their quest to find Jaida and his kits. (His kits. He'd been ignoring the thought but now that he sat with it, he was filled with some vague apprehension. What would they be like?) Somehow, even the fact that Slateflight is guarding camp that night cannot stop the storm of building emotions in his chest. He was going to be a father.
He wouldn't be good at it. But well- He looked at Swiftheart and then put at the night sky. He wouldn't be alone.
“Where are you going?” Slateflight asks, all gruff and brash exactly as Snowleap predicted. She sees him next to Swiftheart and her eyes narrow slightly. “A bit late to be doing some night hunting, isn't it Snow?”
He coughs. She's upset, he knows because she's had a massive crush on him since their apprentice days. But that doesn't matter right now because he needs her to move.
He even surprises himself when he purrs, “Wanna come along?” It has the intended effect. Slateflight's anger dissipates like snow in newleaf and she's left red-faced and balking. He forces his smile as he meets her gaze. Swiftheart (rightfully) looks mortified.
“There's a rogue Snowleap picked up the scent of on a patrol we went on earlier,” she lies, for him, he reminds himself. He can't help the appreciation warming him to his tail tip. “We wanted to find her.”
“Haven?” Slateflight asks, her nose wrinkling. Though the war with the group is over, they all grew up during it. It's hard to forget the constant skirmishes. Slateflight's hatred tended to run deeper than most. (It wasn't a secret that when her mother was expecting no one had stepped forward to claim the kits.)
“No,” Snowleap shakes his head, “Kittypet. From… from what I could smell at least.” His renown as a tracker seems to favor him, because Slateflight doesn't question him. She just gives him a toothy grin that makes his fur stand on edge.
“Oh, a soft one then. This should be easy.”
Even with his nose, he wasn't the one to find Jaida first. He can't stop Slateflight from running again, barreling through bracken and leaving an easy trail to follow once he's located a scent trail.
By the time he and Swiftheart catch up, she turns to them, smirking. “It’s done, chased her off. Couldn't take care of a pretty little kitty, Snow?” There's something sharp in her eyes he ignores.
His legs shake. He thinks they're going to give out from under him. Jaida. His kits. He smells blood in the air, it's on Slateflight's claws. She's gone. He has to keep his claws sheathed by force. Slateflight is still smiling like she'd done the right thing. Like chasing out his pregnant mate was the right thing.
Swiftheart grabs him by his scruff, his own anger must be more visible than he thought. She walks him back to camp, tears building in his eyes.
But the most sickening sense of all is the slightest breath of relief.
“So you went out hunting a kittypet last night?” Shimmerfall hisses. He groans in the early morning light. He doesn't want to have an argument right now. He just wants to close his eyes and let his failures melt away. It's too bad his father won't allow that.
Snowleap opens his eyes to a narrowed hazel gaze. “And what's kept you sleeping in so long? It's nearly past sunhigh!”
“Kittypet,” he manages to choke out. It's the closest thing he's said to the truth in moons. Shimmerfall lashes his tail and oh, he knows. Snowleap goes rigid, seeing the coldness in his father's gaze. Maybe he realized at some point, he couldn't know when.
The silver tom's mouth just draws into a thin line. “Well, it sounds like that won't be a problem anymore thanks to Slateflight.”
He starts to court Slateflight. Properly this time. Their pairing ceremony is searing, his jaw clenched the whole time. He thinks each of his vows come out like snarls.
But it's done, because even if Shimmerfall knows, Snowleap has done the right thing. His father should be proud. It comes out Tigerfang is a killer, a monster, someone who hurts those he's supposed to protect.
(The scars on Ivyfrost's pelt flare to mind with a kind of dangerous certainty.)
It passes in a rush, his father realizing he was wrong. Shimmerfall tries to make amends but the damage is done. Ivyfrost is hardened, the coldness of her name reflecting it. Her natural ruthlessness was sharpened to a claw’s point to serve Tigerfang's own ends.
Snowleap didn't have Jaida. He no longer had his kits, he didn't even know where they were. His few trips to the border to try and scrounge up a scent had turned up with nothing. He wouldn't be a father, not to those kits anyway. He's now mates with Slateflight, ready for a long life together. He'd done everything right.
When Ivyfrost takes Goldheart, a she-cat who had so obviously liked her, as a mate, he bites his cheek as he congratulates her, resisting the urge to scream. Because his beautiful, terrible, brave sister could do what he never could.
He was starting to think his life was some kind of cosmic joke.
“I'm expecting kits.” Slateflight is looking at him like he should be smiling. He probably should be, but this was the second time he'd been through this and now with a she-cat he barely tolerated.
“Congratulations,” he nods, feeling too stiff and formal. Too much like his father. Slateflight immediately frowns, baring her fangs.
He thinks she's going to lunge at him for a moment but she stops just short. “You're supposed to be more excited when your mate tells you she's pregnant!” Her voice rises to a snarl. She reaches out, grabbing his scruff as he yelps. “Or were you more excited for your kits with that kittypet bitch?”
Time seems to freeze. He looks up at her, eyes wide with horror. “You…?”
“Of course I knew!” she hisses, “Do you think she didn't squeal? Didn't try to beg? She still thought you were going to save her, you know. She screamed your name until I finally sent her running over the border because I told her who his real mate was.” Snowleap struggles in her grasp, snapping at her. He only sees red for a moment, flashing in his gaze. Slateflight was reason Jaida was gone, was the reason his kits were gone, was-
“Snowleap!” He hears a voice ring out across the clearing. Stoneleaf is looking at him with blue eyes that seem to peer right through him. “What are you doing?”
Somehow that gaze still makes his heart race. He feels dirty as Slateflight drops him in an undignified heap. “Lover's spat,” he seethes, before turning and running out of camp.
He and Slateflight didn't speak of their fight. He knew the camp whispered, but when his parents asked he only grit his teeth and smiled about them having grandkits. She moved into the nursery and he brought her prey, charmed the other queens with small talk. He was good at pretending to be the perfect warrior.
She could see right through it, but that was who she'd fallen in love with. Not him, the idea he forced himself to put out there.
Snowleap supposed this was going to be his life, lying through his teeth and playing his role as Slateflight's loyal little mate.
(He wondered if next time he should go hunting, it should be near the thunderpath.)
His kits are due soon. (They would have been born by now. Jaida is somewhere alone with his kits.) They would be here sooner than he thought, especially with how his days blended together.
“Snowleap,” Swiftheart nudges him on one of their rare hunting patrols together these days. He gives a grunt as a response. “Snowleap!” she shouts. He turns to look at her, more intently now. Watching this one good thing in his life and wondering when she would vanish as well.
She sighs, “You haven't smiled in moons.” He looks away, unable to meet her gaze, that was only made brighter by the greenleaf scenery around them. He doesn't need that soft concern making him wonder if things could be different. “You haven't smiled since you've been with Slateflight.”
Snowleap barks out a bitter laugh. “What's there not to smile about? I'm going to be a father.” He can at least try to be there for his kits. That seems like a minimum, but he'd already failed the first time.
“I don't like how she treats you,” Swiftheart whispers, “Like… like something to be owned. You deserve better than that.” She's awfully close to him now, something he was painfully aware of. His mate is in the nursery, expecting kits. He can't do this.
“Uh-” he swallows, “And what exactly do you mean by… by that?” Stars, his ears are burning up. Swiftheart looks at him like he’s stupid.
“Starclan! I'm in love with you, Snowleap! I've been for moons!” she snaps. Then her eyes widen, “Wait, I shouldn't have said that. Oh Stars, you still have a mate. I just…”
He leans forward, pressing his nose against hers. He feels something soft and bright run from his chest, spreading quickly through him to his paws and the tips of his tail. “I love you too,” he murmurs, knowing he meant it.
With Swiftheart, he wouldn't have to pretend. Swiftheart loves him, the real him. And that, really, is all he wants.
He isn't allowed to name his only kit. Slateflight proudly presents Stagkit to the camp, speaking about how he would grow to be a great warrior. The way she speaks made him ill.
His son resembles Slateflight more than him. When he tries to visit, Slateflight snarled. “Stagkit only needs a loyal father. I don't want to see you within a tail's length of the nursery.”
(Needless to say, she had not taken the news of him deciding to become mates with Swiftheart very well.)
She flexes her claws and he remembered her teeth on his scruff as he backs out of the den.
“It's not right for her to keep you from your own kit,” Swiftheart hisses. Snowleap could only shake his head.
“It's not about what's right. She's in there with him. I'm not.” He flattens his ears. When he'd called out to his own son, Stagkit had ignored him. When he brought Slateflight prey, she normally insulted him in front of his own kit.
“When we have kits, it won't be like that,” Swiftheart promises, and he let out a purr.
His parents both go fight in the battle against the rats. They've invaded the Stone Pools and visiting Starclan isn't even safe.
“Snowleap,” Shimmerfall's voice shakes, “I'm proud of you. I want you to know that.”
“Swiftheart's a good mate,” his mother purrs. I told you so. Snowleap rolls his eyes. He bunts her gently with his head.
His father clears his throat and he goes rigid. “I'm sorry,” Shimmerfall whispers. Snowleap isn't sure for what. He hopes it's for everything.
He never gets an explanation when both his parents are laid out with the other dead, a hollow feeling in his chest.
“I'm going to have kits,” Ivyfrost tells him one day. He blinks at her, confused.
“Congratulations, Ivy,” he swallows, but he does mean it. So he's going to be an uncle. Stagkit is going to have cousins. The thought makes him smile. “But uh, how did you and Goldheart-”
“Forestnose,” Ivyfrost clears her throat too fast. She shuffles her paws. Is she nervous? “Me and he, well… before he passed.” Her gaze hardened, defensive, “I already apologized to Goldheart! And since they're her brother's kits, she still wants to… do this with me.” Her smile grows at the thought of her mate. It's strange to see his sister in love.
“I wish you the best,” he nods, “And…” He smirks, “I'm excited to be an uncle. I know you can't teach them to hunt.”
“Shut up,” Ivyfrost mutters, but it's playful. He wonders why things can't always be like this.
Moonstorm moves into the nursery expecting Stoneleaf's kits. Tigerfang's daughter, with the same broad shoulders and cold eyes that haunts Snowleap’s dreams. (Tigerfang always stood over his sister while she screamed. He couldn't stop him.)
Stoneleaf doesn't seem thrilled.
“You have a kit,” he asks Snowleap out of the blue, like they're still talking. Like Stoneleaf is still his friend. Snowleap wants to pretend it was true, so he indulges him. (He's barely been able to see Stagkit. Slateflight doesn't let him get close enough.)
He looks at his friend, “Well, if there's one thing I learned, you'll never truly be ready. But you have to try.” Because that's what Snowleap is doing, trying. He brings Stagkit a mouse and ask how his day was. He tried to correct his hunting crouch once, only to be bombarded with different questions about different types of prey. (Naturally, he was able to answer all of them.)
Slateflight would always take him back to the nursery.
“Never ready, that's certainly how I feel,” Stoneleaf laughs, looking at Snowleap with his bright blue eyes. The white tom swallows. “How do you feel?” he asks, throat suddenly tight and words breathy in a way that makes Snowleap’s hackles raise.
“Wh-what?” He sputters. Stoneleaf's gaze softens. He’s close in a way Snowleap hadn't craved since his apprentice days.
“You, me, tonight by the river.”
They meet under the night, only the stars watching their sins. “I shouldn't do this,” Snowleap whispers, “Stoneleaf, you have kits on the way.”
“And you have a kit in the nursery,” Stoneleaf tells him. The way he walks, purposely brushing his pelt against Snowleap's makes the other tom whimper. “But you don't love Slateflight, and I don't love Moonstorm.”
He flips Snowleap over, pinning him to the ground. Snowleap let him, Stoneleaf was a terrible fighter. “But Swift-”
Stoneleaf cuts him off with a kiss that sends fire racing through his veins. Moons of yearning resurface, making themselves known. Oh, he wants this deep in his bones. Stoneleaf pulls away, looking at him with a smirk. “What was it you were going to say?”
“Bastard,” Snowleap hisses, biting down so hard he tastes blood. Guilt flows through him. Each of his nerves were on fire. Stoneleaf gleams like a star, of course he would burn.
There is no way Snowleap will survive this.
He throws up the next morning.
In the end, Stoneleaf has seven kits. Seven. Snowleap wants to laugh like it's some kind of karma, but then one gets a cough early on and passes. His friend feels different after that. Changed.
It's real to him now. He's a father. His stance is stiff when Snowleap comes to the nursery to get his brief moments to gaze at Stagkit. He looks at him with a narrowed gaze, like they never shared that night under the stars.
It was wrong. It was wrong, but they shouldn't speak of it. Swiftheart likes to come and cooes at the kits. She gazes at Stagkit and wonders if any kits they have will look like that. The thought makes him smile, a litter with the she-cat he loves. Finally putting Stoneleaf behind him.
She goes to see Stoneleaf and Moonstorm’s litter, and that's when things fall apart. Because of course he tells Swiftheart. Snowleap always knew he would be the one to break him in the end.
“I'm sorry,” he exclaims. It's not enough. She only looks at him so hurt and broken, he wants to put her back together.
But he's been cracked himself for so long.
“I love you.” He says it like a prayer.
“Goodbye, Snowleap,” she whispers. No cursing him, no screaming. It's somehow worse. He wishes she would rage against him rather than these quiet tears.
She walks away and he's rendered in two.
Ivyfrost has her kits. None of them look like Forestnose, or Goldheart for that matter. He wants to laugh because of course his perfect sister can lie and get away with it.
Of course she can have someone else's kits and still keep her mate.
He leaves, looking at Swiftheart with hopeful eyes. She doesn't even glance his way.
Stoneleaf and Moonstorm have a fucking pairing ceremony. It feels like a joke, but he can't bring himself to laugh. Their kits are watching from the nursery, the six left a pile of fur and bright eyes. Some of them share the same sky blue that makes Snowleap nauseous. He confronts Stoneleaf after the ceremony.
“How come your life gets to knit itself back together?” he hisses, “And mine is ruined!”
“You ruined your own life,” Stoneleaf hisses. His claws are flexed like he can actually fight. “I have to step it up, for my kits. I can't have distractions anymore.” He looks at Snowleap like he's some kind of bug that he wishes would go away.
Snowleap laughs in his face. “Like you can ever be a proper father after the first thing you had to do to forget about your dreaded kits is to come crawling to me.” A thought strikes him like a sharp blow, “You used me.”
“Snowleap,” Stoneleaf can't meet his gaze, “You made your mistakes. Leave me and my kits out of it.”
So that's how it was going to be. He's just getting cut out of Stoneleaf's life after everything. “Fuck you,” he breathes out, voice trembling and tears building in his eyes.
Stoneleaf's voice is cold. “You already did.”
It's a cold leaf-fall morning when he goes out for a hunt by himself.
“There's a rabbit burrow out by that large old oak!” Slateflight calls, which is odd, but Stagkit has been curious about rabbits lately.
Not for the first time he wonders where Jaida is, or if their kits are okay. They would have been apprentices by now. Stagkit will be one before he knows it, already four moons old and more curious than any other kit Snowleap knows. Ivyfrost's litter of four likes to follow him while he explains various aspects of clan life.
Slateflight always stands nearby, watching him, waiting for him to try and do something. Snowleap doesn't. He simply observes his son with a sad smile. He reminds Snowleap of himself sometimes. He's smarter than most and already showing the marks of a good hunter. Maybe he can convince Silverstar to like him mentor Stagkit.
That would grind on Slateflight's nerves, the idea that he could actually be a parent.
The idea pleases him so much. Maybe he can show he loves Stagkit. Maybe Swiftheart will one day take him back and they can have that litter. He's charmed by the idea.
So charmed, he doesn't notice the snare until it's too late. It closes around his neck. He looks up at the oak branches above him, thrashing but it only tightens. The oak tree. Black spots dance at the edge of his vision. Slateflight.
He has to get back to camp. He has to-
He has to breathe. Oh great Starclan, he can't breathe.
They find him the next morning. Swiftheart cries at his vigil. Even Ivyfrost is silent as she watches her brother's corpse.
And Slateflight watches on, expression carefully neutral as she wraps her tail around Stagkit.
“Daddy's gone,” she whispers to her young son. “He won't bother you anymore.”