The Weeping Willow {Closed}

Willowpetal made her way out of the nursery, ignoring the concerns from her friends and family telling them she needed to just get out of camp for a while. Really, she needed to see Ryeheart. She didn’t know how this happened or how she even allowed this to happen, but it had so know they had to deal with it. He didn’t even know yet and she was terrified of what he would say or what he would do. She was extremely close to giving birth, she knew, but she needed to see him. She just needed him to let her know everything was gonna be fine.

She made her way over the stepping stones and through the brush, breathing heavily with the effort, before she finally emerged into fourtrees. It was their usual meeting spot and time, but for a split second she feared he wouldn’t come. What if he realized the mistake they’d made and decided to leave her alone to deal with it. Or w- she cut off her next thought with a shake of her head. “Stop it, Willowpetal. He’ll come.” she told herself quietly as she settled down to calm her racing heart and slow her heavy breathing. She wished he would hurry. She felt so vulnerable knowing there was no way she could beat a rogue or warrior with her swollen belly and awkward movement.

Then her head snapped in the direction of a rustle in the brush. Fur fluffed up and eyes wide, she faced whatever it was with determination, her fluffy tail sweeping over her belly protectively. I won’t let anything happen to you. She silently promised her unborn kits before a familiar ginger pelt came into view. “Oh! Ryeheart..” She exclaimed with obvious relief before plopping herself down to groom her now fluffed our fur.

(mobilee)

Ryeheart gave his long pelt a shake - thanks to the increasingly damp weather his marshy territory seemed to enjoy dumping puddles of water onto his back as he walked - before brushing past the border of bushes that guarded Fourtrees, stepping into the now-calm clearing.  Ever since that fateful Gathering this place held way more memories than he cared to recollect; he felt a hauntingly warm feeling flood through his fur as he gazed up at the Great Rock.  Had he really once jumped up there, playing make-believe like a kit?  His play area had been covered in blood.  I thought I would feel better about this by now?  I know it needed to be done...I saved the Clans for StarClan's sake!  I gave the crippling blow to Smokefang, I helped the missing cats return home!  So...why do I feel so guilty?

He let out a long sigh before looking forward with eager eyes toward what mattered, the only thing now that gave him clarity.  Purring wildly, Ryeheart bolted the last few fox-lengths that stood between them, greeting Willowpetal with a loving attack of nuzzles and licks.  Her sweet, oh-so-familiar scent floated around him, burning away his dark memories as he buried his muzzle into her thick fur, before stepping back a pace.  His eyes shining brighter than they had in ages, the ShadowClan warrior touched noses gently with his mate before purring; "Willowpetal.....I've missed you so much!  How are things?"  He noticed vaguely that her tail was wrapped against her belly, which seemed to bulge a bit under her long fur.  He didn't think much of it at the moment though, distracted enough by being in her presence.

Willowpetal purred happily as she was smothered in affection from her mate. She laughed lightly, he previous worries forgotten momentarily. “I’ve missed you too, Ryeheart.” she purred warmly, nuzzling him while taking in his comforting marshy scent. “Well.. I’ve brought some family..” she meowed slowly before looking up at him with love and worry filled eyes. “I’m expecting kits, Ryeheart. We’re gonna be par- Ooh!” she winced, her sentence cut off by a sharp pain facing through her. Her blue eyes were now round with panic and her heart began racing again. “Oh no, no, no. Not now.” she whispered, her voice taught. “Ryeheart!” she spluttered her mates name as another wave of searing pain lanced through her. “T-their c-coming..!” she cried fearfully, grimacing as the pain continued. She gazed up at him with terror in her gaze now. “I-I don’t,” she paused, yowling in pain, before continuing with shaky breath, “I d-don’t k-know what t-to d-do.” she stuttered breathlessly. “R-Ryeheart what d-do i d-do?” She asked, praying to StarClan that he somehow knew what to do. StarClan why? Why now?

Family?  For a moment Ryeheart was very confused; they were the only cats here, and why would Willowpetal be so reckless as to bring other cats to their meeting?  "Wha...what do you-"  

"I’m expecting kits, Ryeheart"

The tom has never looked so stunned in his life.  His icy eyes were widened to the size of full moons, and the fur along his spine prickled tentatively.  Was she serious?  H...How?  Now it made sense that she was guarding her belly...she was pregnant!  With his kits!  As the realization set in, the tom's features quickly transformed to a mix of excitement and pure joy.  His voice light and breathy, the ginger tabby tom purred; "R...really?!  W..Willow...!"  Her cry of pain startled him, and the happiness of the moment seemed to fade away.  The kits were coming...right now?  Here?!

His heart beginning to race, Ryeheart pressed closer to his mate comfortingly, his wide eyes glazing over as he tried to control his panic.  "I..I'm here Willowpetal, it's going to be okay, I'm here..."  Her frantic cry for help, instruction, pierced his very soul; he had never seen a cat give birth, much less knew the proper technique or the right herbs to give...he was helpless.  "I...I don't know..."  He scanned her body critically, yet he saw nothing except waves of agony rippling down his mate's belly.  Was this normal; the pain, the panic?  He didn't know...he didn't know anything!

He lay down at Willowpetal's head, wrapping his body and tail around her while he licked her ears calmingly.  He couldn't take it, watching her in agony like this hurt him as well.  There was only one thought in his mind...it was a great risk, but it was one he was willing to take if it meant saving his family's lives.  "Do...do you need me to go get Honeydrop?  Or Roaringblaze or...C..cloudstone?"  His voice held the deep knowledge of what he was suggesting...would she take the chance?

Willowpetal’s eyes widened in surprise at his question. “N-no.. don’t l-leave me.” she whispered softly, pressing closer to her mate as the waves of pain became even closer together. Maybe it was a good idea, but they couldn’t risk the medicine cats telling, and mostly, she was scared. She didn’t want to be left alone. “I can do this.” she meowed, a new determination entering her shaky voice. Now, something was happening. She felt it as a massive wave of pain went through her, bringing her first kit with it. It was a silver tabby tom, an almost perfect mixture of his parents. “Oh!” she exclaimed as she reached around to lick the large kit, a maternal instinct flowing through her now guiding her. Then it happened again, bringing a orange tabby she cat into the world. As she licked the she-kit to warm her up she began feeling faint. Black spots dotted her vision and she blinked furiously trying to clear them. “R-Ryeheart..” she began, before another ripple of pain brought the third kit, a dark grey she-cat. Not soon after, the last kit was born, a dusky brown and white she-cat. She drew her four kits to her with her last remaining strength and looked them over before glancing tiredly at her mate. “They’re beautiful.” She purred weakly, though her gaze was unfocused and still filled with pain. Her hind legs felt like they had been dunked in water and it was becoming increasingly harder to stay awake. “Ryeheart.. Will.. Will you name them?” she asked softly, struggling to keep her eyes open. She paused a moment before speaking again. “I-I l-love you, Ryeheart.” She murmured weakly, tears filling her gaze. She knew something was terribly wrong, and she knew there was nothing she or anyone could do. She didn’t say anything to her mate for that very reason. She wanted to enjoy these last moments she had with her family as much as she could.

The dark grey she-kit snuggled against her mother's belly with her littermates, mewing pitifully, oblivious to what was going on around her.

The brown and white she-kit shivered in this newfound cold. She pressed against what her instincts told her was her mother while she recovered from the shock of arriving in this new, cold world.

Ryeheart couldn't help the sinking feeling that plagued his stomach as Willowpetal denied his offer to go get a medicine cat; even though he had never witnessed a birth before, he knew it was very taxing on the she-cat's body.  Sometimes they needed herbs, to strengthen them, or stop the bleeding...  "It's okay, don't worry.  I'm not leaving...I'll never leave you."  With a shaking sigh, the ginger tabby tom continued to lay at her head, gently licking her ears as, one by one, their precious kits entered the world.  It felt like an eternity had passed in a single minute, but despite his worries and a rapidly beating heart, a smile cracked on the ShadowClan warrior's face as he nuzzled his mate's cheek; "You did it, it's over.  Everything's going to be okay."

Quickly though, he noticed just how tired his beloved looked, her eyes glazed and movements slow and sluggish.  In this moment of joy, a small worm of growing worry squirmed in his belly as Ryeheart moved away for a moment to get a better look at the kits.  Their kits.  After giving them a few cleaning licks and nudging them closer to Willowpetal's belly, he returned to his place at her head and nodded agreement to her request.  Still, he knew in the back of his mind that something was very wrong as he began to name their four beautiful kits.  This was not normally the father's duty.  "How about...Lakekit for the firstborn tom?  And umm...Ravenkit for the dark gray she-cat.  Beekit for the ginger tabby...and Vixenkit for the brown and white one."  

Content with his name choices, he turned to look into his mate's captivating blue eyes, prepared to see the same unadulterated happiness he himself felt reflected there; but to his shock he saw tears.  Her soft words tore at his soul, and at that moment he realized just how bad it was.  His icy eyes wide, he wrapped his body around Willowpetal's, entwining his tail with hers as he rasped; "I..I love you too, W..Willowpetal..."  A slight edge of panic entered his voice as the tom stiffened, holding onto her tail even tighter as he pushed his forehead against her's.  "I..it's going to be okay sweetheart, you're going to be okay!  I..I'll come back with you to RiverClan, we can raise our kits together!  They'll grow up to be great warriors...with their parents to guide them.  I can teach them how to hunt frogs and lizards and..."  He rambled on, refusing to accept that the dreams flowing from his mind would be nothing but that...dreams.

Willowpetal sighed happily, thought it was mixed with pain. “They’re beautiful names.” She  smiled sadly at her lover’s desperate grasp at hope and comfort. “Ryeheart..” she meowed, her voice barely audible. “Will y-you make s-sure they’re s-safe? And loved? A-and h-happy?” she asked, attempting to purr comfortingly but it just came at as an exhausted and pain filled sigh. She was okay with her punishment from StarClan for her disloyalty, but she needed to know their precious kits would have a good life despite their parents.. errors. Though it was awful, she didn’t regret a single thing. She didn’t regret meeting the charmingly sweet tom or even becoming pregnant. The only thing she wished were different was either the warrior code or the clans that they were in, but it didn’t matter what she wanted, not anymore. Now all that mattered was what her family needed. “I..” she paused, taking a deep breath. it was slowly getting harder and harder to breathe now. “I don’t regret.. u-us.” She closed her eyes in pain, but also so she didn’t have to look at the heart-broken expression on her beloved mate’s face. The effort of speaking was nowhere near as painful as that expression. Even though she didn’t regret anything, she hated that the moment that was supposed to be their happiest was tainted by pain and grief. She hated seeing her mate in pain, and she hated that she was causing it. “P-please d-d-d..” she paused, swallowing hard. “don’t live y-your l-life being s-sad.” She told him seriously, her voice a mixture of emotions. “It’s okay.. t-to move o-n..” She told him with a final look of genuine love before closing her eyes once more. She opened her mouth to say more, but the black spots were almost blinding and she felt as though she was floating. And she was so tired. Suddenly she heard a familiar voice. Her mother. Tawnystorn was there to take her to StarClan, so as she breathed her last breath, she could now see her body and she was standing next to her mother, her pelt now glimmering with stars. She gave the she cat a look before brushing up against her mate and whispering a farewell before following the tabby up into the sky.


Lakekit meowed piteously as he was licked by a swift tongue, but was soon purring as he was placed at a furry belly that smelled of sweet milk. Not long after he began to suckle, another small being joined him which was followed by two more. He grunted in annoyance as they squirmed and shoved, but he was much larger than them and easily kept his spot.

(mobiled this whole topic so far wow)

Vixenkit, being small, tried her best to find a place to suckle but in the end gave up and fell asleep next to her larger siblings, hoping that perhaps food will be there when she wakes up.

(occ: that post legit made me tear up, good job :D)

"N..no......NO!"

Every word that exited his beloved mate's mouth seemed to tear like sharpened claws at his fragile heart, leaving his soul bleeding for all to see, along with the tears that dripped from his eyes and landed like sparkling dewdrops onto the she-cat's pale fur.  His whole body trembled fiercely, from his ears to fluffy tail tip, and his claws unsheathed as he tried his hardest to grip his love closer to him, as if he could shield her from the inevitability of fate's terrible plan.  He knew deep down though, that all was for naught; her beautiful blue eyes had closed forever on the sights of this world.

Ryeheart could hear every bump of his racing heartbeat as he stared blankly down at the pale gray body that had once been his mate, his once bright and exuberant eyes reduced to a horrible dullness.  He felt numb; his paws tingled from the strain of clutching at frail hope, his mouth dry and unable to form words that held any meaning.  His face was wet with salty tears that held a haunting resemblance to the droplets of Swoop's blood that had once stained his ginger fur.  Mothers taken from their children, never to be seen again by innocent eyes; and truly, the blame lies on you twofold.

"O...Oh StarClan...this....this is all...my fault..."

Maybe this was some sort of divine punishment for the sins he had committed recently; murder, taking a mate outside his clan, having a litter of forbidden kits.  In hindsight, maybe he should've expected this.  Her kits - their kits - now lay nestled on the ground next to Willowpetal's dead body, motherless in a cruel, harsh world.  A place where, if their origins were known, they would be hated and outcasted in their own home, at no mistake of their own.  This was his fault...if only he hadn't played make-believe up on that damn rock maybe none of this would've happened!  His beloved would still be alive, his kits wouldn't be doomed to a life of ridicule, and his soul wouldn't be crushed into a million tiny little shards.  This was his doing...all of it.

It was a long time before Ryeheart gathered the strength to move away from Willowpetal's chilled body, and look down tearfully at the small beings that still clutched at her helplessly.  His four precious children - one tom, three she-kits - were more beautiful than he ever could've imagined.  He wondered if this was how his own father had felt when he had set eyes upon he and his brother for the first time all those moons ago, this deep-set passionate love that nothing could begin to compare to.  He never wanted to be separated from them, his kits, his only remaining family...but he had always known how this would go.  There was no way he could take them back to ShadowClan with him; the questions would be too direct, too hard to mislead.  His clan had always valued the pure blooded, and scoffed in the faces of outsiders.  There, his kit's lives would be hard and filled with unnecessary trials.  But in RiverClan...  He knew that his mate's clan also strictly upheld the rules of the Warrior Code...but if she had survived they would have lived there anyway, without trouble, believing they were pure-blooded.  Maybe that could still be the case.

As he gently nudged the kits away from their mother, the real reason he didn't want to take them back with him burned in the back of his mind shamefully; I'm the reason they're in this dilemma, how could I possibly take care them now?  How can I face them when they're old enough to understand?  It's my bad luck that put them in this predicament, who knows what else could happen to them under my care?  The strongly flowing river will be a much better guide to them than the boggy, dark depths of the marsh.  This...is how it must be.  Yet, even as he made up his mind, every fiber of his being screamed that this was wrong, that he should hold onto his kits and never let go.  Still, he dragged Willowpetal's body into the shade of a bush and gave her one last gentle lick on the cheek.  Still, he bent his head to grab onto each of kit's tiny scruffs one by one.  Still, he glanced behind him longingly as he began to pad away from Fourtrees towards RiverClan territory.  Still, his chest ached with unquenchable pain.

Vixenkit mewled piteously, writhing around when her mother stopped supplying her with milk. She moved away from her suddenly cold mother and instead cuddled up with her siblings.

Beekit swung, her mouth mewling and hungry for the milk of her mother.

Ravenkit was calmed by the gentle swinging motion, but even so, all she could think about was how she longed to be pressed against her mother's belly again drinking warm milk. She pressed herself closer to her littermates, wishing for all her tiny heart that her siblings were as warm as her mother. She mewed pitifully as she was lulled to sleep by her father's steady breathing