She was trying.
Dear Starclan was she trying her best, but it seemed it just wasn't enough. She was just a pitiful lump of fur, with the emotional stability of an acorn. She looked to her clan-mates, who had suffered far worse than she, and they were doing just fine. Leafstorm had lost the same daughter, yet he was fine. A bit sad still but he was getting better. For Starclans sake, her kits were doing better than her! The young she-cat just couldn't understand what prevented her from moving on, what held her back from helping her kits. Like Birchheart, she had been so caught up in her selfishness that she had ignored her daughter from when she needed her most.
She couldn't help but admit that maybe her daughter being forced to lose her tail aided her grief because while Thistlepaw consumed her thoughts, Birchheart still bubbled up. Her dead litter with only one remaining daughter intertwining tails with everything else that fell upon the she-cat like a landslide of boulders. Specklefang looked past the camp entrance, her eyes glazing over as she was lost in thought. Everything that was happening to her was not the worst, other cats had it worse and she was just selfish. Just look at Leopardclaw. She had no right to act the way she was acting, she was spoiled. Selfish. Other cats needed her, she didn't deserve help, she had to get past it herself, and herself alone.
Getting to her paws, she looked back at the warrior's den, her mind flickering back to her daughter, Birchheart, the cat who needed her most. Taking a shuddery breath the she-cat pushed herself into the warrior's den and padded up to her daughter, hesitance marking her steps as she stood there for a moment. Then, she forced a smile on her face and pressed her paw into her daughter's shoulder. She was fine. She was fine. She was fine. "Birchheart lets go on a walk." She requested, her voice rasping with disuse.
