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moon thirty.
It’s called the Cavern of Souls. That’s what that grey tabby—Lichenbite…?—had told her, anyway, but to Hubert, the only thing she can call it is …
“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she whispers. How could she not? The gems that rise from the ground and fall from the ceiling are a glorious shade of blue that glimmers on her dusty pelt, and the calm, vein-like rivulets of water she has to step over are shining in the same color. The rushing sound of a waterfall is ever-present, though she can’t see the source; it lends the cave a perfectly atmospheric white noise.
Heads turn as she pads into camp, and Hubert raises her tail to greet her new clanmates, its tip twitching in excitement. “Hey,” she calls—too loudly, perhaps, considering the cave’s echoing acoustics. “I’m Hubert. What’s up?”
A she-cat with long, dark, speckled fur raises her head to look at her, then looks to the other cat beside her—Fauna; that one she can remember. “Who’s this?” she asks, then looks sheepishly to Hubert. “Not- I mean, not to be rude. Who are you? No, that …”
Hubert gives a sharp laugh and shakes her head to dispel the other cat’s worries. “It’s fine. I’m Hubert. I’m a healer. Fauna and Lichen… Lichen…”
“Stripe,” comes a small voice from behind her.
“Fauna and Lichenstripe said you’d let me join your whole deal. Are you Hornetstar?”
“Um … yeah,” Hornetstar says, her voice hesitant, as if caught off guard by the concept of being in charge. “Uh, Fauna, may I have a word with you?”
Fauna shoots Hubert a glance, rolling his eyes, and Hubert huffs a laugh. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “It’s pretty easy to boss her around.”
“Color me surprised,” Hubert says, the words dripping with sarcasm.
As Fauna and Hornetstar pad toward what she has to assume is the latter’s den, Hubert follows him with her eyes, not looking away until he disappears between two large gems. Perhaps it’s just because he’s the one who brought her home, but she finds herself liking the tom’s attitude. He’s got a backbone, and it seems he’s got some power in the clan, too—always an appealing quality in a friend.
“Hubert?”
Hubert is startled out of her contemplation by Lichenstripe bumping against her shoulder. “Yeah?”
“Come on. I’ll show you around.” Lichenstripe gives her a little smile. “Don’t worry about Hornetstar; she’s a big softie. It’s all for show.”
Hubert smirks. “Good to know.”
moon thirty-five.
When Fauna gets sick, he strides into the healers’ den like he owns the place, even though he’s hacking up mucus. Hubert can’t lie and say it’s not appealing—she would, too, if she didn’t already (co-)own it.
Before he even says anything, Hubert recognizes the heavy, sturdy sound of his pawsteps and looks up, ears perking. Rookwing can manage for a few minutes while she tends to Fauna. She gestures with her tail for Celebi to come finish pressing new cobwebs onto Rookwing’s talon wound, then struts over to Fauna as he flops down into an empty nest.
“Got a cough?” she asks. “You sound like shit.”
Fauna forces out a phlegmy laugh. “A sore throat, too.”
“A sore throat …” Hubert frowns. Well, no need to panic yet; nobody else has shown signs of yellowcough, and greencough—which, while still not ideal, isn’t nearly as severe—can certainly come with pain in the throat. “Say ‘ahhh’.”
Fauna opens his mouth obediently—a privilege reserved exclusively for healers, she’s noted—and Hubert peers at the inside of his throat. With a pang of relief, she notes white patches on the inside, a sure sign of greencough. “Well, it’s not yellowcough,” she mutters. “Close your mouth. I’ll get some catmint.”
“Lucky me.”
Hubert rolls her eyes and chuckles, recalling the many, many times he’d come along to gather catmint and snuck a bit of the intoxicating herb for himself. (She’d joined in, of course. Healers need a bit of fun in their personal lives if they want to be good at their job. So what if that fun happens to encroach on their herb supply?)
In a moment, she’s back at Fauna with the small, ruffled leaves that will, with any luck, clear up the infection real quick. “Here,” she says, but Fauna is already chewing on them.
He tucks his paws beneath him and licks his chops, then says, “Thanks. … You do a good job, you know.”
Hubert finds that her cheeks are warming, despite her own self-assuredness. She knows that already, but to hear it from Fauna … “You too,” she says. “Haven’t gotten us into a war once.”
“I got us out of one, actually. First thing I did as deputy.” Fauna’s words are cut apart by coughs, making Hubert’s brow furrow, but again—she’s good at what she does. It’s fine. Besides, Fauna’s no different from any cat she’s friends with. She has no reason to get all stressed out about it.
Shaking her worries away with a quick shake of her head, she says, “Doesn’t surprise me.”
“Hubert,” Celebi calls over to her, “Can you go look after Rookwing? Marshlily and I are going out to look for herbs.”
Deflated, Hubert gives a little groan and shoots an apologetic look at Fauna. “Be back soon,” she whispers.
moon thirty-seven.
“We have four cats with talon wounds to take care of in there, Hubert. The leader’s kit is in there.”
Celebi’s voice grates against Hubert’s nerves, and she glares at him, her tail swishing in irritation. “Yeah, and? Do you not know how to treat them?”
“Yes, I know how to treat them,” Celebi says, “but you need to pull your weight, too.”
“I am pulling my weight!” Hubert snaps. “I’ve been tending to Fauna this entire time. What, do you want me to ignore a patient with yellowcough?”
“No, I want you to treat all your patients equally. You know that’s in the warrior code, right?”
“No, it’s not. Not officially.”
Celebi groans. “Come on. You know what I mean.”
“Well, treating a talon wound is a lot less risky than treating yellowcough. I’m doing you a favor.”
“You’re not ‘doing us a favor’, you’re just in lo-”
“I am not in love with Fauna!” Hubert snaps, rising to her feet. “But even if I were, so what if I’m favoring him? Is it against the law or something?”
“Yes! We established that!”
Hubert fixes Celebi with a glare, which, as Hubert notes with satisfaction, causes him to shrink the tiniest bit. “Look,” she says, “I’ll do my job how I want to do my job. Fauna is sick, and he’s only getting worse, so let me take care of him, alright? He needs the attention.” She forces her voice not to crack as she spits out the words. It’s true—his infection had progressed to yellowcough about half a moon ago, and she’d been filled with a sense of dread ever since. So it’s natural to want to take care of him, right?
With that, Celebi finally stands up and shakes his head. “Do what you want,” he says with a sigh. “But if Logkit dies because you’re too busy fawning over that little crush of yours, you’re going to be the one to explain to Hornetstar why exactly her son is dead.”
As Celebi turns away to walk back to the healers’ den, Hubert mutters, “Fuck you.”
Celebi’s tail swishes with aggravation, but he doesn’t break his stride.
moon forty.
“So, you’re really feeling all the way better?”
Fauna nods. “See? No white patches, right?”
Hubert chuckles as she inspects the inside of his throat. “None,” she says. “But you do have a bad case of halitosis.”
“Hm?”
“Your breath stinks.”
That gets a laugh out of Fauna, a welcome sound that leaves Hubert’s heart feeling even lighter. “Yeah, thanks,” he says.
“Just telling the truth.” Hubert cocks her head and gazes at Fauna for a few moments, and he gives her a meaningful look right back. “So … as long as you’re feeling better,” she says, “do you wanna go on a walk or something? You need some fresh air.” She glances toward Celebi and Marshlily, who nervously poke and prod at Logkit’s infected wound. Well, they’ll be fine for an hour—three healers gets a little crowded sometimes, after all.
“Absolutely,” Fauna says with a grin, and stretches his legs, back curling into an arch.
“Awesome. Shall we?” Hubert asks, gesturing toward the mouth of the healers’ den with her tail.
“We shall.”
The weather had been gorgeous already, the greenleaf sky bright blue and cloudless, but with Fauna healthy and by her side, it’s just a little prettier out, Hubert muses to herself. “Feels like we haven’t been on a walk in forever.”
“Well, we really haven’t,” Fauna points out. “I got sick, what … five or six moons ago, right?”
“Oh, was it really that long?” Hubert feigns obliviousness, but really, it’d felt like years. It was the first time she’d been scared—not just worried, but scared— that a patient would die.
Fauna hops down from one rock to another, then looks up toward Hubert as she stands at the lip of a small cliff, staring down at him. “Uh-huh. But I’m feeling all better now, I promise. You wanna race and prove it?”
Hubert grins as she climbs down the face of the crag, descending perhaps a bit less gracefully than her companion. “Are you sure? You know I always win.”
“Who says I mind?”
Hubert huffs a laugh. “Oh, so you just like to watch me.”
With a smirk, Fauna says, “Absolutely. C’mon, go beat me to the catmint patch.”
She’s off before he can get his whole sentence out.
When Hubert runs, her mind empties. It’s like her brain melds with the mountain; while other cats have to be aware of their surroundings so they don’t hurt themselves, it’s almost as if her soul is tied to the ground beneath her paws, avoiding roots and cracks with effortless deftness. Today, though, her mind doesn’t reach that state of blissful blankness; instead, something swirls inside of it.
As her paws beat on the rough stone of the cliffs, her mind flashes back to what Celebi had said a few moons before. Is she in love with Fauna? it’s not an accusation that embarrasses her, certainly, and if others get the impression that she is, then so what? It’s just …
Without breaking her stride, Hubert takes a quick look back at Fauna, who follows her from a short distance.
It’s too dangerous. She can’t risk getting attached. Not again, when she knows how the world works. There are too many badgers, too many eagles, too many monsters—and the way these clan cats talk about themselves! Their warriors, their battles … She can’t let another cat she loves die on her.
But then she looks back at Fauna again, and he grins at her, and for a moment, the darkness that had begun to creep up to her dissipates.
It’s the closest race they’ve ever had, and they’ve had plenty. Fauna reaches the catmint patch just after Hubert, who’d already flopped over and begun to roll around in the fragrant herbs. When he stands over her, she looks back up at him, icy blue eyes glinting in the sun, and gives him a smirk. “You’re so slow.”
“I am not!” Fauna protests through a laugh as he lies down beside her. “You’re just weirdly fast.”
“Why, thank you.” She pauses, her gaze not moving from Fauna’s, then says, “You know, I’m-”
Before Hubert can finish her sentence, a high-pitched wail spills into the air from above, amplified by the echo of the Cavern’s gaping innards. She jolts into a sitting position and stares up toward the mouth, one ear pressed back in apprehension. A few moments later, a cry rises up once more, this time with words: “Logkit!”
“Oh, shit,” Fauna says under his breath, then glances over at Hubert. “We should get …”
It’s too late; Hubert is already scrambling back up the rocks and tearing down the path back to the Cavern. Why did that kit have to die the one time she was out spending time with Fauna? She’d have been there to help if the timing hadn’t been so wrong.
Before too long, Hubert’s paws are slapping against the dark, cracked rock of the Cavern, and she bursts into the healers’ den, panting. Hornetstar and Charredtail don’t look up at her, but when Celebi hears her pawsteps approach, he whips his head around and glares at her with a staggering amount of righteous fury.
“You!” he snaps, rising to his feet and stalking over to Hubert. “Where exactly were you while Logkit was dying?”
“I was out of camp for less than half an hour,” Hubert says, unflinching. “I don’t see how my presence would have helped-”
“Well, you could have at least tried to help him while he was still alive, as you may remember us discussing.” Celebi flares his nostrils in contempt. “You were out with Fauna, weren’t you? Ditching your post without checking in just to fool around with-”
“Hey, is everything okay…?”
Hubert turns to see Fauna standing at the mouth of the den, peeking in on the dire scene.
“I guess that’s a stupid question,” he continues. “Is there anything I can …”
Celebi shakes his head briskly. “No. Get out.”
Fauna gives him a look, but doesn’t seem to be intrigued enough to hang around either way. With a flick of his tail, he departs, though not before giving Hubert a look that says, To be continued?
Hubert gives him a tense—though genuine—smile, then turns away.
moon forty-four
“So …”
“Fo?”
Hubert’s voice is muffled by the herbs she’s organizing—catmint over here, poppy seeds over there, and you can’t forget the burdock root—but she says it with a smile. For the first time in a long while, there’s nobody in the healers’ den, a couple cases of whitecough having cleared up and the talon wounds inflicted the other moon having either scarred or healed completely. With Celebi, Marshlily, and Pheasant out going herb gathering while leaving her to sort, she finally has time to take a deep breath and socialize.
Naturally, Fauna had pounced right on it.
“A few months ago, when we were- when I had healed from yellowcough, you said ‘You know…’” and then got cut off,” he says.
Hubert’s mouth twitches at the reminder. For the most part, Celebi had gotten off her ass—with the help of Marshlily’s conflict diffusion, of course, and on that note, who’s he to talk about being in love, anyway?—but it still wasn’t the highest point in her healing career. She places a bulb of garlic in its respective pile, then says, “Oh, right. Um …”
There are a million things she could do here. What was she even going to tell him? Had she even had a plan? She scrambles for something plausible yet truthful to say, and eventually comes up with, “I haven’t had a friend like you in a while.”
Fauna gives her a teasing smile, his snaggletooth glinting in the soft light of the gemstones. “‘Like you’?”
Hubert gives a sharp laugh at the accusatory tone. “Yeah, yeah. I mean, someone I’m close with. I think the last time was, uh…” She falters again as she recalls. It can’t have been him, right? If it was, now certainly isn’t the right time to talk about it … “It was this tom named Rudder,” she says, but makes a point of elaborating further.
“Kind of a stupid name,” Fauna jokes, and Hubert, without thinking, rounds on him.
“Don’t speak ill of the dead!” she hisses, then stops, eyes wide. “Shit. Sorry, I didn’t …”
Fauna, unintimidated, tilts his head and peers at her contemplatively. “Hubert,” he asks slowly, “who was he to you?”
Hubert meets his gaze for a few moments, then lowers her head and sighs. “He … was my mate,” she says. “A long time ago. He … It’s so stupid. He ate a rat that must have eaten something bad itself. He couldn’t fight through the poison. That’s … why I became a healer, actually. So I could make sure fewer cats had to go through this.” Why is she telling him all this, anyway? Sure, he’s her best friend, and there’s no point denying her feelings for him at this point, but it’s not any of his business. Still …
“I’m so sorry, Hubert,” Fauna says. It’s the most sincere she’s ever seen him.
Hubert shakes her head. “It’s fine. It’s in the past.” She pauses for a long time, looking Fauna up and down. What would Rudder think? He’d died young, but they were still mates, and he’s one of the vanishingly few cats whose opinions on her she cares about. Cared, that is.
But then … his dying words. Be happy, Hubert.
Would she be happy with Fauna?
She takes a look at him, a hard, hard look, and decides that yes, she would be happy.
moon forty-seven
Havenpool manages to choke out the following between coughs: “Have you noticed anything … odd about my dad lately?”
“Odd?” Hubert asks, then, pushing a clump of tansy toward him, adds, “Eat this.”
Havenpool obeys, grimacing at the taste, then says, “Yeah. He’s been acting kinda … I mean, we used to have kind of a rapport, you know? But he just doesn’t want to talk anymore, it feels like.”
Hubert ponders the question. It’s hardly even a question, honestly—of course she noticed how he’d gone cold so suddenly; how could she not? But to hear someone else say it out loud is new. At least she knows now that the problem isn’t just her, though … Unless whatever she’s doing or isn’t doing is bad enough to strain his other relationships as well. She shakes her head, dispelling the thoughts.
“Oh,” Havenpool says. “Maybe it’s just me, then.”
“Oh! No, no,” Hubert says. “I was just thinking.” She pauses, calculating her words, then says, “Between you and me … he’s just been off these past few moons.”
“That’s what I was thinking!” Havenpool says. “But I didn’t … know how to bring it up to him. Maybe he’d be willing to hear it from his … uh, best friend?”
No, Hubert hadn’t made the first move yet. Why should she, though, with the way Fauna’s been icing her out lately? If he were to take a turn and ask her, she might say yes, but that’s a problem for another time. “I can try,” she says. “You think he’d be more receptive to me than to you?”
“I, uh … I haven’t talked about it with him yet,” Havenpool admits. “It’s not that he’s scary, he’s just … well, you know how it is.”
Hubert nods, though with the vagueness of Havenpool’s statement, she doesn’t really know what she’s agreeing to. Nonetheless, she says, “I’ll try. Don’t blame me if I don’t get through to him, though. You know how cats can be sometimes.”
Havenpool cracks a humorless smile and nods, then breaks into another coughing fit. Once it settles down, he clears his throat and says, “I think maybe this isn’t the right time for us to talk about it, though.”
Hubert chuckles, equally humorless. “Probably not when you can barely talk, no. I’ll get you fixed right up; don’t you worry.”
She’d been meaning to confront Fauna about his behavior—she’s a big girl; she can stand up for herself—but her conversation with Havenpool was the kick in the haunches Hubert needed to really talk to him, not just the dregs of idle chatter she’d been wringing from him for two moons now. The next time she catches him coming back from a patrol, she takes him aside and says, “What’s going on with you?”
Fauna’s face twists into a frown. “What do you mean, ‘what’s going on with me’?”
“You’ve barely been talking, for one,” Hubert says. “We haven’t spent quality time together in over a moon, and I know you haven’t been any busier than normal. I thought you might have a problem with me, but Havenpool is worried about you, too. So what’s the deal?”
“Nothing’s the ‘deal’,” Fauna says, and gives her a glare—something he’d never done before. “Just leave me alone.”
The sadness Hubert feels then is physical, like a kick to the underbelly, claws unsheathed. Before she can get another word out, Fauna is slinking away to the warriors’ den, and she watches with a feeling of despair stronger than she’s felt in years. The strongest, she knows, since Rudder died.
moon fifty
Three moons pass before Fauna and Hubert have another proper conversation. He hadn’t been avoiding the healers’ den—not that she can tell—but that was the start and end of his need for her. It’s the first time in a long time Hubert has felt truly ashamed. Did she ruin this? Surely not, but … Either way, he’s here now. Just … standing there, staring at her. It’s unnerving.
“... Fauna?” she asks, the first to break the awkward silence as he stands in the mouth of the healers’ den. “Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine,” Fauna says, but the tone of his voice still betrays the coldness of his demeanor these past few moons. “I just need to talk to you.”
Hubert glances around the den. It’s relatively empty, and they’ve got three healers aside from her, so it’s not like Celebi would have reason to be annoying about it like he so often is. She nods, then follows Fauna outside and behind the tall gemstones that shape the healers’ den.
“What is it?” she asks when they’re out of earshot. “What do you want?”
If her words come off too harsh, Fauna doesn’t show it. Instead, he just says, “Hubert, I love you.”
Hubert blinks, taken aback. His words are so dispassionate that they almost sound untrue; yet, she knows how to tell when Fauna is lying, and it isn’t that. He’s telling the truth, just … beyond some sort of barrier, a wall of ice. “Um. Okay?” she says—all she can muster in response.
After waiting a few beats and receiving only silence, Fauna says, “... So, did you want to be mates?”
She’d thought when the day inevitably came that she’d say yes in a heartbeat, but this isn’t what she was imagining at all. It was meant to be happy and romantic and meaningful; this is just … What even is this? Hubert finds herself at a loss for words. “Um … I don’t know about this, Fauna,” she says, bracing herself for what he might have to say about it. He’d been showing up in the healers’ den more often lately, covered in bites and scratches from border skirmishes he’d purportedly started himself; sure, he probably wouldn’t turn that on her, but who’s to say?
Fauna, thank the stars, doesn’t antagonize her or anything—not violently, anyway. With his words, it’s a different story. “What do you mean, you ‘don’t know’?” he demands.
“I mean, I don’t know!” Hubert meows sharply. “Look, you … Well, things have been hard lately. Just lay off it, alright? I’ll think about it.”
Fauna stares at her, a mix of shock, betrayal, and anger behind his eyes. Hubert meets his gaze unflinchingly. He’s silent for a few moments, then gives her a scowl and turns around, tail lashing.
With an ache in her chest, Hubert watches him leave, then sighs and begins to walk back to the healers’ den. Behind her back, she thinks she hears a mumbled word: “Bitch.”
moon fifty-three
For several moons, that’s just what Hubert did: think about it. Not about the offer, not really, but about that tense encounter, tucked away together in the corner of camp. Fauna had always been assertive, of course, even transgressive, but never before had he been so forceful. That wasn’t the same Fauna that had welcomed her to the clan, that had rolled around in catmint with her, that had comforted her while talking about her dead mate. Hubert winces at the thought of the last one; what would Rudder think now? What would he think of the cat she was so close to replacing him with?
She starts when Fauna’s voice comes from behind her as she gathers burdock root: “We need to talk.”
Steeling herself for the deeply unpleasant conversation this is surely going to be, Hubert sets the roots on the ground, then turns to Fauna. “What’s wrong?” she asks.
“You’re lying.”
Hubert blinks, a bit surprised but mostly confused. “Uh … lying about what?”
Fauna takes another step toward her, and she takes a step back despite herself, but quickly gathers herself once more.
“Lying about our relationship,” Fauna says. “Do you think I don’t know you love me back? Are you stu-”
“Stop!” Hubert snaps. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that.”
“Don’t you dare talk to your deputy like that.” Fauna’s voice is equally as sharp as Hubert’s. “Especially,” he adds, “when you love him.”
“I love the old you!” Hubert says. “The you that isn’t cold and closed off and doesn’t harass people. It’s been moons of this, Fauna. I’m tired of it.”
Fauna pauses; Hubert can practically see his thoughts churning in his brain. Then, he shakes his head and says, “People change, Hubert. Take it or leave it.”
“Fine. I’m leaving it.”
Once more, Fauna seems scandalized. He opens his mouth, closes it again, then opens it once more to say, “So you really don’t want to be with me.”
Quietly, Hubert says, “... I do want to be with you. Just not this you.”
She picks the burdock root up again, then slips past Fauna to head back to the Cavern. Her heart pounds as she passes him, both from the stress of the conversation and from the lingering fear of him attacking her. He’d been getting worse, more erratic, and somehow, she knows she’s not exempt from that if she doesn’t watch herself—and she’s really not one to do that.
Thankfully, Fauna doesn’t jump at her with outstretched claws, though Hubert does hear him growl as she walks by, setting her fur on end. She looks back to find him not following her, still turned away. She gives a deep sigh, then turns back and continues toward the Cavern, walking normally at first, then quicker, and finally bursting into a run, bounding up the rocks with ease despite her anxiety.
“What’s wrong?” Marshlily asks as they cross paths toward the mouth of the cave, heading off to go gather herbs with Celebi.
Hubert pauses for a moment, then shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s … nothing.”
She’d lost Fauna, hadn’t she? Not to death like Rudder, but the fact remains the same. There will be no vigil for this death.
moon fifty-four
If she’s so done with Fauna, why does her chest hurt all the time? Why does she desperately want to talk to him when she sees him, want to tend to him when he’s injured?
Hubert muses on it as she curls up in her nest one night. The logical part of her knows she’s being ridiculous, that the cat she once loved can’t be found and that she needs to move on, but the emotional part hasn't yet caught up. For the first time in more moons than she can count, a sense of shame worms its way into the pit of her stomach. She tucks her face into her paws against leaf-fall’s chill and sighs. How could she betray herself like that?
Eventually, the longing feeling in her body becomes unbearable, and she stands up to get some fresh air. She sneaks past Hornetstar, whose leg had been mangled by a rogue a few days prior, so as not to interrupt her sleep, then steps out of the healers’ den. She makes a move to leave the Cavern, but the misery in her body only increases as she approaches. She pauses, then looks back toward the warriors’ den. It would be a terrible idea, but …
Giving into self-destruction, she turns back and pads to the opening of the den. When she peeks in, though, looking for the once-comforting buff fur, she doesn’t spot Fauna in his nest, nor anyone else’s. She blinks in surprise. Had he gone on a nighttime patrol? Surely not; even through all the changes he’s gone through, his refusal to assign himself to nighttime patrols had stayed a hard and fast rule. Before she wakes someone, she walks back to the center of camp, then looks around.
Before she can do anything else, a sharp cry echoes from deep in the cavern and is quickly cut off. She perks up, ears twitching and eyes going wide. Is that …? She glances back toward the cats in their den—none of them had woken up, thankfully; she doesn’t want a panic—then starts off toward the source of the sound, paws thumping against the ground.
As she runs through the Cavern, she thanks StarClan for the glow of the gems that rise from the ground, lending vision as she goes. “Fauna?” she calls, dreading an answer. “Is that you? Fauna …”
It’s a sick gurgling sound that alerts Hubert that she’s reached … whatever she’s reached. She comes to a halt, heart pounding and lungs burning, and takes a moment to catch her breath. She recognizes the blood-chilling sound, one she hadn’t heard in a while: the sound of blood in the throat. The sound of redcough. The sound that Rudder had …
“Fauna!” she cries again, though she knows it’s futile. She darts around the clearing she’s found herself in, checking behind clusters of shining gems, and finally finds a place where the gurgling noise is louder. With trembling paws, she sneaks into a crevice between two crystals and gasps.
Just as she’d feared, a body lies bleeding on the ground. The fur is tinted blue by the crystals that rise above it, but still, she recognizes wing-like marking on Fauna’s back.
Frantically, she takes her head to unfreeze herself and bolts to his side. Is he still alive? Does she want him to be? Does it matter?
Fauna’s eyes are half-lidded, but they widen just the slightest bit as he sees Hubert approach. He opens his mouth the tiniest bit, but can’t form words; the only sound that comes out is the sound of blood.
She’s too late. She knew she would be, but the knowledge didn’t make it any easier. Hubert’s body shakes with unsteady breathing, then full-on sobs. “Fauna,” she says softly, voice choked with tears, and leans down, pauses, then touches her nose to his cheek. He’d been so threatening in the last moons of his life, but here, bleeding out on the ground, he seems so week, so fragile.
Despite the hesitancy, despite the changes, despite it all, she still does love him, doesn’t she? She knows in her heart that deep down, he’s still the same cat, just … just different. He could have gotten better. But now …
“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. Sorry for what, she’s not sure, but what other word could she possibly put to it?
After a while, she realizes that the body beneath her has stilled, the ragged remnants of breath no longer there. It takes a few moments, but when her brain registers it, she falls to the ground in a heap. Things should have been different. She deserved different; they both deserved different. And yet here she is, mourning the cat who hurt her the most, and that she loved the most.
Hubert’s not sure how long she’s been lying there next to the cooling body, but she knows she has to tell Hornetstar about the death—the murder, she finally acknowledges, but doesn’t process. The fear will set in later, she knows. With one last look at the body, she slips out of the crevice and begins her numb walk back to camp.
moon sixty-one — epilogue
The thing about death is that it’s not all that bad, once you’re over it. You’re not suffering anymore, at least—in Hubert’s case, the scratchy throat and hazy delirium of yellowcough. How ironic, she supposes, for a healer to die of illness.
Hubert opens her eyes into the fields of Silverpelt, soft grass bending beneath her tan-furred body. She rests for a few moments, still curled up, then rises to her paws and looks around. She’d been expected to accept StarClan in her beliefs, and to a degree, she had, but she’s still almost surprised to be there, not out of poor morals but because she could never shake the suspicion that the only thing left after life was darkness.
This is certainly better, though, or so she’s heard. Hubert stretches her legs, making herself into an arc shape. Then, she calls, “Is anyone there?”
There’s silence for a few moments, and Hubert sighs, disappointed. No welcome committee? Oh well, she can always find the others on her own …
Then, there comes a clearing of a throat behind her, and she turns to see a pack of familiar faces, a group of cats seemingly having appeared out of thin air. Hubert smiles as she recognizes Heartjump, Flailfoot, and the rest of the deceased GhostClan cats, though her heart sinks as she spots Logkit. Nonetheless, the kit bounds up to her, rubbing himself against her legs. “Hi, Hubert!” he chirps, evidently having forgiven her for perhaps contributing to his death—if he’d understood the situation in the first place, anyway.
“Hello, Logkit,” Hubert says softly. Then, something occurs to her. “Where’s … um …” She pauses, then continues, “Where’s Fauna?”
The welcoming smiles the crowd had worn just moments before fades, and they look awkwardly around at each other. Finally, Quailwhisper steps forward and says, “Yeah, so … I don’t think he made it.”
Hubert frowns, and though she has a feeling she knows the answer, she asks, “... What do you mean, ‘don’t think he make it’?”
“He didn’t go to StarClan.” At Hubert’s defeated look, Quailwhisper adds, “I’m sorry.”
Hubert stares down at the ground and digs her claws into the dirt, not as a threat but the ground herself. Sure, Fauna had been more violent toward the end, but he’d never killed anyone. Getting in skirmishes isn’t against the Warrior Code, is it? She shouldn’t even be sad, though; he pressured and almost threatened her … But she still can’t fight the thought that maybe he would have healed in StarClan, have whatever had sunk into him eased just by the comforting submission to death.
It’s Flamenco that steps forward next, sympathy in his deep blue eyes. “I’m sorry, Hubert,” he says softly. “Are you …”
“I’m fine,” Hubert snaps. She doesn’t raise her head as she turns and walks away.
Far away, the trees of the Dark Forest rise above Fauna. He stands in the shadows, frozen in place, a vague sense of unease—perhaps sadness?—sinking into his body. Something’s happened. Something is wrong.
Then, with a growl, he lowers his head and slinks through the trees once more.