Wishes in the Dark (Closed)

It seemed that Honeydrop had always been tired. How long had it been since she'd actually had a full night of sleep? It seemed like ages. Maybe lifetimes. Her life was always full- between caring for her Clanmates, from torn claws to lasting badger injuries, and training Roaringpaw, her daily duties kept her busier than any warrior. But unlike a good medicine cat would have to, she had additional worries and stresses on her mind. Not only had she never fully gotten over her terror of Bear and Wolffang, but she had done something horribly wrong. She had broken the medicine cat code. Not only did she have a mate, Flamestrike, but she had two perfect and beautiful kits. But somehow, they'd been able to cover it up. The whole of ShadowClan thought they were Littlebrook's. It was for the best, definitely. She had no doubt that she would lose her position, and maybe even her life, if her secret came out. But it still tore her up inside whenever she saw her sons. When she saw Firepaw training with his father, when she saw Gingerpaw bring freshly caught prey into camp, when they all shared a piece of fresh-kill as the sun went down. Every time she looked into their happy, oblivious eyes, her heart broke all over again. She wasn't sure how much longer she could bear it. The endless pain never dulled as time went on, only grew sharper and more potent with every lonely breath she took. It was unfair that she could never tell her kits how much she loved them.

Taking a deep breath of fresh evening air to clear her head, the golden dappled she-cat watched the moon rise from inside her den, bathing her in its pale, milky glow. The silver light shone on her mussed-up nest, neat pile of herbs, a deeply sleeping warrior with treated injuries in the corner. Honeydrop's exhausted amber eyes stared into the night, reflecting the stars they saw, tiny pinpricks of light in an endless sea of black. ShadowClan was even more beautiful just after the moon rose, just before cats would get up to start their daily duties. In a life like hers, you learned to appreciate the simple things. Sometimes, they were all she had. The medicine cat looked back into the den, starting to move towards her herbs. Then she saw a silhouette at the den entrance and spun around. "W-what? Who's th-th-there? I-Is there something y-you n-n-need?"

"It's just me, Honeydrop..." Flamestrike meowed softly as he padded towards the golden she-cat. The sound of her stuttering voice caused his heart to race. Her warm scent flooded his glands and he let out a soft sigh. His dark green eyes casually looked over her frame. Wincing slightly, the orange tom settled on the scar that she bore from Wolffang all those years ago. However, he quickly shook away the bad memory. She was just as stunning as always. He settled down half a tail-length away from his mate. It was almost impossible to resist the urge to press himself up against her warm pelt and bask in her herb-tinted aroma. But he had to. They were in the camp and could never truly be together here. Secrets needed to be kept for both their sakes.

"How have you been?" He breathed after a brief pause. It felt right be be at her side. Being with her was the only thing that felt perfect. Their kits had made him happier than he ever thought possible. But there would always be a flicker of sadness at the thought that they were unable to raise them together. As far as the clan knew, Littlebrook was his kit mother. Littlebrook was an amazing friend and wonderful surrogate mother, but he so longed for their family to be truly whole. A bit lost in his thoughts, the warrior's tail flickered slightly as he waited for the medicine cat to respond.

The voice that met her ears sent a warming shiver through Honeydrop's body, and she immediately relaxed. Her tired amber eyes glowed with a softer light as they traveled upwards to lock with Flamestrike's green gaze. Training had made his powerful body stronger, but he looked much the same as he did that day he rescued her from his horrible brother. Though he bore no physical scars from that day, she knew that the traumatic experiences they had both gone through would haunt them for the rest of their lives. But she felt better just being near him. It was the only cure for her nervous, constantly terrified state, but she could never truly be with him. The code would never allow it. She could smell his comforting, distinct scent as her mate sat himself down near her, and the urge to rest her head on his strong shoulders and wrap his tail in hers was overwhelming. But she shook it off, and instead settled for a soft smile as his eyes met hers again.

How have you been? The question was polite and normal, but the weight behind it spoke volumes in his quiet, sincere voice. But how had she been, really? What was she supposed to say? Oh, I just sit inside my den all day, making my apprentice memorize herbs, and stay awake all night wishing you were here. I'm fine! You? The medicine cat shook off her bitterness immediately. She was finally alone with the tom she loved- she wouldn't ruin their time together by pushing off her burdens on him. "I-I've been o-o-okay," she got out, more self-conscious of her stutter than ever. "H-h-how have you b-been? And how a-are... your s-s-sons?" It took all her control not to say the word "our." You never knew if someone might be listening. Ravenclaw in the nest in the corner might not truly be asleep. Roaringpaw might show up. Anything could happen, and she would rather be safe than sorry.

"My sons..." He repeated slowly, forgetting she had even asked about him. It felt strange to refer to them as anything other than their kits. Flamestrike supposed he should be used to it, but it still caused him to hesitate. After a moment the warrior shook his head. There needed to be a response. A contented look took over his features as he thought of training with Firepaw. Their son had shown so much promise already. The more they trained, the more his younger copy was turning into an impressive warrior. Gingerpaw's progress, from what he had seen, was also swift. Any day now, they would be having their warrior ceremonies. An assessment was in order first. When he finally snapped himself out of all of those thoughts, the tom finally responded, "They're fantastic. Training is coming along so well."

His eyes landed on the sleeping frame of Ravenclaw. Even in her den they could not be alone. Flamestrike's claws dug into the ground with a flash of frustration. It wasn't fair that they had to skulk in the shadows simply because they loved each other. But it was against the code and he knew it. They had always known it. All he longed to do, though, was to press his pelt against hers. He could not help but let a smooth lie roll from his tongue, "I actually came here for a bit of help. There was a patch of herbs and I cannot tell what it was... but I ate some and got bellyache. If you have the free time, I could show you? Make sure it is nothing deadly."

Hearing about her sons- about Flamestrike's sons- made Honeydrop feel a little bit better. She wished she could watch over them like Littlebrook did. She wanted to eat prey with them, groom them when their fur got messy, share in their accomplishments and their pride. She wanted to tell them she loved them. But it could never be. Instead she watched from the shadows, treating the occasional stomachache or torn claw, being proud of their growth from a distance, hiding her feelings, loving them silently with all her heart. And it was nearly unbearable. Why, why did it have to be this way? Why was their love so wrong when it was the only good thing about her life? Why couldn't medicine cats have the same right to live and love that was shared by warriors and rogues and kittypets alike? It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. But it was how it was.

The medicine cat's ears pricked up as the orange-furred tom mentioned a patch of herbs that had given him a bellyache. Anxiously rummaging through her mind to recall any stomachache-inducing plant Dawnflower may have mentioned, she came up short. The only plant that she could think of that would do that were deathberries. She panicked for a moment. Was Flamestrike going to die?! Then her brain caught up with her and calmed herself down. Deathberries killed much quicker than that. And they didn't even grow on ShadowClan territory. Honeydrop was confused. What on earth did he....? Oh. Oh. Realization dawned. Well, she was a mousebrain. He just wanted an excuse to be alone with her! Her heart warmed by his action, her mind raced to come up with a response. "Oh. S-Sounds like y-y-yarrow." Yarrow causes vomiting, not bellyaches, but no one but her and Roaringpaw would know that. "Could b-be d-dangerous, b-but hopefully n-n-nothing fatal. Yes, I-I'll come w-w-with you, F-Flamestrike."

Her mate watched as a bit of panic rose in her eyes before the realization hit. Flamestrike smiled reassuringly at Honeydrop. Once she agreed, he turned to lead her through the camp entrance. Of course, if any cat questioned them leaving together, he could chalk it up to the story he had made up. Clan cats needed their medicine cat. It was a simple fact. Once they were far enough away from the Shadowclan camp, the flame colored tom fell back to keep pace with her. His tongue ran quickly over her cheek in a rare and affectionate greeting. For so long, all he had longed for was a few moments alone with his mate. It was torture being confined to the same camp as her and never being able to share their warmth in a nest together.

"Its good to finally be alone with you..." He murmured, brushing his pelt up against hers. The warmth of the golden she-cat seemed to melt any of the hardness that surrounded his heart. Flamestrike was comfortable. This was the cat that had blessed him with his sons, the greatest things to ever happen to him. A purr broke from his throat as he simply looked over her. Honeydrop was the most beautiful cat in the world to him. Now that they were together again, everything seemed right.

Being alone with Flamestrike was like a breath of fresh air. Honeydrop could feel her tenseness melting away as they walked together, steps falling in sync as they silently made their way through the undergrowth. His familiar scent enclosed around her like a loving embrace. Gazing deep into his amazing emerald eyes, a low purr came from the medicine cat's throat as she touched her nose to his. When they were alone together, it was impossible to care that the warrior code forbid their love. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered but Flamestrike, how his fire-colored pelt gleamed in the moonlight, the way his fur brushed against hers, the look in his eyes as their gazes locked. The she-cat leaned against his strong form, her thin golden dappled tail entwining itself with his. She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled his scent, enjoying the warmth that they shared together. Oh, how she wished that they could stay like this forever, that they didn't have to hide their love behind corners and in forsaken parts of the territory. But any time she spent with him was worth all the misery that her daily life brought. when she was with him, Honeydrop was happy.

"Mm-hmm," the medicine cat agreed blissfully, nuzzling his shoulder. She stayed silent for a few more moments, basking in their solitude. Finally, her bright amber eyes opened and stared into his. "So, how are our kits? Firepaw and Gingerpaw?" she inquired quietly, the thought of her two perfect sons bringing an even wider smile to her peaceful face. The very words "our kits" sounded so right when she was with him. She had already asked the question in the medicine den, but she wanted to give him the chance to answer fully without worrying about listening ears. "I hardly ever get to see them any more, they're growing up so fast. Do you think they'll be warriors soon?"

Flamestrike didn't say anything as he gave into the comfort of her warmth. As she rubbed up against his shoulder, a soft smile twitched at the edge of his maw. Everything felt right when they were together. His ear twitched as she spoke. Their kits. If only Firepaw and Gingerpaw knew. The four of them could be a complete family. He couldn't even imagine how much it tore her apart to be so far away. He at least had the opportunity to train Firepaw. The warrior considered what to say for a moment. Both seemed to be doing fantastic in their training. Flamestrike knew more about his own apprentice than their other son.. although, Swiftclaw was a fine warrior, and in seeing Gingerpaw's constant determination, there was no doubt he was doing well. The thought of both toms as warriors caused his chest to swell. Soon, his kin would fight at his side. It was almost unreal.

"They're great, Honeydrop. I wish you could see it.. Firepaw is going to be one of the best warriors Shadowclan has ever seen! And Gingerpaw, too, no doubt. I wouldn't be surprised if Leopardstar gave them their names in the next few sunsets." The excitement that came out in his voice was almost impossible to contain. It seemed like it had been a dream his whole life, having kin in the clan, and yet here they were. Both of his sons were on the path to being warriors. They would sleep in the same den and hunt side by side under their new names. Everything would be perfect. Except... your family will still be broken, a voice reminded him in his head. Glancing down at Honeydrop, sadness slowly crept into his gaze. The kits did not know. They could never know. With a sigh, and after some consideration, he finally sighed,"They would hate us if they knew." It was selfish to consider how much he had grown to enjoy his close-knit bond with Firepaw, but he couldn't stop the thought from coming.

Listening to how proudly Flamestrike spoke of their sons, Honeydrop could almost let herself believe for a second that they were all together as a happy family, a mother and father who did everything together and a pair of sons who wanted nothing more than to walk in their footsteps. A family of warriors who went on patrols together, shared fresh-kill, slept side-by-side. But the wishful, foolish fantasy that she dreamed of during her cold, lonely nights in the medicine den when she wasn't beset by nightmares could never be. She knew that much for sure. Honeydrop could never have been a warrior. She was too weak, too helpless, too mouse-brained, too foolishly kind to ever be successful at hunting and fighting like nearly everyone else in her Clan. And even if medicine cats could have mates, what was to say that her sons wouldn't be ashamed of her? That they wouldn't feel ashamed to have a mother who was so weak that the only thing she was good for was standing around and letting others rescue her? A mother who was a liability to their Clan, who wasn't even a good medicine cat? No, there was no point in even entertaining such thoughts. StarClan only knew what Flamestrike saw in her. But whatever it was for, his love was the only thing keeping her alive on those lonely nights when she realized that her sons would likely grow old never knowing who their mother was- and being better off in every way for it.

A slight glimmer of the depression that haunted Honeydrop's days found its way into her eyes as she gazed at her mate, listening to his solemn, resigned words. 'They would hate us if they knew.' The truth of those words was hard. It left a bitter tang to the air as the pair who loved each other and their sons so much acknowledged the painful realization that there was no way they could ever be together the way they wanted. But something about the deepest fear of the medicine cat's heart being spoken aloud filled her with some sort of resolve- a wild, desperate hope that would probably never be proven right or wrong. What if Firepaw and Gingerpaw didn't care? What if they would love her anyway, would be able to accept her as their mother without letting the Clan into their possibly deadly secret? Of course, it would never happen. And there was no point in thinking about it. But still, some part of her felt guilty about keeping their potentially disastrous decision a secret from the result of its handiwork. "Of c-course. B-But don't... d-don't they have a r-r-right to k-know?"

"You don't think so?" Flamestrike asked, meeting her gaze. There was a pit in his stomach as he thought of lying to his kits forever. Especially Firestone. It was one thing to consider it when the kits could not yet speak. But now.. they were much older. They were young warriors like he had once been. Like he had once longed for the knowledge of his true heritage, the warrior now wondered if they would be better of knowing the truth. Would ignorance prove to be better than honesty? Would their worlds be shattered if they knew? Things would most likely be very different. Only their adoptive mother knew the truth. Could it be that the secret would just die with the four of them?

He found himself remembering sitting in fourtrees with his son and sharing of all the things Firepaw had not known about his father. The flame colored apprentice had been so understanding and good hearted despite all the things he now knew of his father. His tail lashed as he lost himself to thought. This was the most difficult of circumstances to be in. A forbidden love and family; a mix of lies and half truths. The tom frowned and tore his gaze away from his mate's, "Are we going to never tell them of their mother? Maybe they would love her as much as I do... Firepaw... he's got such a level head."