The greatest sin. (Closed)

To some cats, the birth of a litter of kits was a blessing. Ridgelight couldn't count the amount of litters born in ThunderClan each season. Sometimes, it seemed as though barely a day went by when there wasn't a new kit bounding out into the camp. Queens were campbound. They had to tend to their kits constantly, to nuture and care for them. Protect them from danger... raucous mewling interrupted her thoughts. Her hazel gaze flew to the kits that were lined at her belly. Light filtered through the bush she had sought shelter in.

This wasn't ThunderClan camp's nursery... and it wasn't supposed to be. The mewling and suckling scraps of fur would have been endearing to most queens. Ridgelight stared longingly past the leaves of her bush, towards the light of the moon in the distance. Her pelt itched with the familiar need to move. Her mind begged her to stay.

It was a war she had been fighting since Pricklebush laid down the hard truth to her. News, she refused to accept... and now she was paying the price. Every second she stayed, the chance of a patrol finding her impromptu nest rose. Her throat clenched, heart stuttering as she stood up slowly. The kits mewled again, sleepy and full. Tears slipped from her eyes as she climbed out from underneath the bush.

It was the only feeding they'd ever get.

She had committed to this decision moons ago. Even though it felt like her heart was being shredded by rabid hounds with each stride she padded away from them. Her now slimmer figure a distinctive silhouette in the light of the moon. It would be painless, she was sure of it. They were too young and small... wouldn't be able to think really. They couldn't see that she wasn't there. They would never know.

No cat would ever know. It would only take a few hours. Long, suffering, cold hours. A strangled sound of distress passed her lips as she turned around abruptly. Motherly instincts urging her to go back. GO BACK!. She looked towards the horizon. The lake adventure had whet her appetite for more... she wanted to see more of the world. Her paws made a couple steps, but her body froze immediately as the scent of fox hit her sharply as the wind changed direction.

It was ahead of her. The kits were ahead of her, and it would probably smell them. She should go back, warriors were to defend helpless kits... but... no cat knew. No cat except Pricklebush, and she doubted he'd tell. Guilt clawed at her throat and chest as she took a deep breath, then bolted towards camp. The nameless kits would remain so. If she named them, if she spoke the names she wanted to give them, she'd never be able to leave.

'Duskkit, Larkkit, Leafkit, Pinekit, Lakekit... StarClan, I'm so sorry.' She ran down the familiar path of the ravine. Barely glancing behind her as the names ran through her head, searing into the back of her skull with shame as she sought Beartooth's familar pelt in the warriors den. Nestling up to him with a choked sob. 'You're better off without a mother like me.'

Oh how the moons had slipped away, drifting through his many claws as easily as the wind had jostled the trees above. So easy, and so natural. And yet, here Beartooth was, the same as he had been for moons. He had stood a little straighter as circumstance dictated he lead Dawnpaw in the way to safety, and aid others as the windstorm battered the misplaced clans. The warrior had done his duty as he always had and it had lead him back to where he had started. Pricklebush's relentless disdain was still here, the clan was beginning to thrive once more in greenleaf, and his steps were once again weary with the familiar work of patrols. But somehow he had been left worse off. Getting home might have been enough for some cats but the agonizing loss that had embedded itself in his chest had shattered any remnants of the creeping ice that had once swallowed his heart and left him numb. He couldn't tell if this was worse. And he tried not to considered it. Yet the fact remained something he could not shake so easily from his thoughts...

Blizzardshine was gone.

He had already lost two parents, both in life and then to their imminent deaths. And even a brother. But the lovely she-cat had instilled with him an understanding of love that he would have been hopelessly lost without. Blizzardshine had helped to breed care and compassion underneath his born desire for the duty he had been passed. Little things could replace the sense of loss that welled up inside. It seemed like all of her kits had been left with a similar hole inside their chests. And some dealt with it how they did, Pricklebush and Hailpaw, and even himself, focusing on work and warriorhood and simply doing what they could to push through. He did not even know how Streampaw fared and the thought of asking never once crossed his mind. The one solace was Ridgelight's constant companionship. Even in her sorrow, the familiar she-cat always had a sense of adventure and a thrill for life he would never quite understand. But he appreciated it and was drawn to the light she radiated. It brought a sense of clarity to the senseless world on many occasions.

His simplistic train of thought usually considered little more than the general understanding and emotions that flitted through his mind. Even now as his head lay heavy across his paws, Beartooth's raging mind was somehow both empty and troubled in a single instant. The desire to busy himself had worn off with the day's work and once again he was left to his own devices, alone in the den. Ridgelight was not here to lift the burden upon his shoulders and brighten up the creeping shadows of the den. His claws dug into the ground as he remembered there was still more to be done later. Heaving himself from the nest was nearly impossible with the exhaustion that had seemed to seep in from within and slowly move into his limps. It was like a chill of leafbare and yet it wasn't. Whatever the cause of it was, Beartooth did not dwell on it for too long as his green eyes have closed in an attempt to seek out a relief from the waking world that he so desperately craved. And while his mind did not sink so easily into nothingness, something else brought comfort to him and almost, almost, caused a fanged smile to curve up the sides of his maw.

It was the comforting scent that first reached his maw that alerted him to her presence. But the way she threw herself so desperately into his side and curled into him spoke of something different. This was abnormal. And while his mind and his senses were dull, the bulky warrior still managed to feel the choked sob as Ridgelight pressed into his side. Hopes of a smile drooped into a frown and his gravelly tone was almost reassuring in nature, "What's wrong?"

For a long moment, Ridgelight said nothing. Her heart was back with the kits in the cold night air. The stench of fox in her nose even as she knew it wasn't in camp. It wasn't close by, she had made sure that they were nestled in the most out of the way spot she could find within the territory. His words of worry rubbed her tender heart the wrong way as she nestled up close to him. Refusing to speak as tears fell onto his fur.

More than ever, she missed her mother. Missed the advice the older she-cat could have given her. Perhaps, if Blizzardshine was around, this wouldn't have happened. Her mother could have taken care of the kits, she would have understood the sheer fear that Ridgelight felt at the prospect of being trapped into a den. Instead of voicing these thoughts though, she simply nestled up closer, crying herself to a weary sleep.

---

Thunderclan's camp was busy. It wasn't a new thing, Marshstorm was proud of how the camp had been repaired following the flood. The dawn light glowed down onto a camp of cats rousing from slumbers and preparing for patrols. He stretched out the last of the cramps in his muscles. Leopardstar had lead away the eastern patrol, he had assigned a western and northern patrol. That left him with the eastern border patrol as he padded up to Beartooth and Lynxtail.

"Beartooth, Lynxtail. I want you with me on the south patrol this morning." He ordered calmly, gaze turning towards Ridgelight who was still in her nest. He tilted his head thoughtfully, but decided against waking the she-cat. It was hardly a crime for a cat to sleep in, and they had all worked so hard to bring the camp back to it's former glory.

The loss of her mother as well... he turned his attention away from her. If she needed a morning to herself, he wouldn't interfere.
"We'll be remarking the border. Better to reinforce the scents there with greenleaf so close." The words were casual as he took a final look around camp. "Grab some prey if your hungry. We leave shortly."

Mosspaw padded out from under ferns, a slight limp still in her step. Listening as Marshstorm set the patrols, she approached tentatively. "Marshstorm, is it alright if I come along? I need to check on some of the herbs that have started growing that way, and pick what can be taken. If you don't mind bringing me along, that is." She gave a small smile, watching the deputy's expression carefully to try to gauge his answer.

Lynxtail looked up, his tufted ears perking as the deputy padded towards him. There was only one more patrol left to assign, and he had been hoping that he wouldn't be placed on it. It had been a while since he'd had time to sleep in and relax in camp, and he was starting to wonder how he'd be able to balance training an apprentice on top of doing his regular warrior duties.
'Stupid.' He thought to himself, standing as the brown tabby tom approached. 'Marshstorm thought I would be able to handle it. I can't just disappoint him and Leopardstar after all they've done for me.'
When Marshstorm said his name, Lynxtail was quick to respond with a grin. He felt a pang of self-loathing as he did so. How could he be so selfish, wanting a break when there was more work to be done? The others hadn't gotten much of a break either. What kind of cat was he?
"Alright," The young warrior said, "let me grab a mouse." He quickly sat down to eat, barely pausing to stretch before he was on his paws again. He didn't groom his fur, but then again, he rarely did until after the morning patrol. Bright-eyed and smiling, he trotted towards the bramble tunnel and sat down to wait for the others.

Marshstorm smiled at Mosspaw as she approached. He nodded his head immediately. The medicine den did still need plenty of restocking... and it was far safer for Mosspaw to travel with a patrol than alone with the borders as fragile as they were.
"Of course Mosspaw, you are welcome to come." He looked over to Lynxtail. The young warrior seemed alert and awake. "Meet me at the top of the gorge when you're all ready." Marshstorm padded away towards the entrance of the camp. Scents flooded his muzzle, but Dustcloud's and Leopardstar's were the ones that stood out the most. He smiled at his mate's scent. A sense of relief that never faded after finding her flooded through him.

He still had brief nightmares that she was gone. Their discussion in the glade had made him feel a little guilty. She tried so hard, and yet kept being being dealt cruel blows. He shook his head as he climbed the pathway up the gorge. There was no use in over thinking. She would tell him if she needed anything, he was certain.

Each sob struck a chord in the bulky warrior's chest. It was something most cats wouldn't have expected from someone of his stature, but Beartooth's heart had always been particularly generous in its softness. Although it had been hardened as moons passed, buried under a constantly thickening layer of numbing ice, the she-cat's warmth had begun to thaw it. The warrior was almost shocked, if he'd considered it, to feel once more. As her small frame shook, he coiled more tightly around her. Words had never been something that passed easily from between his overgrown fangs and so he too was contented to say nothing else. But as he pressed up against her and allowed the she-cat to bury into his coat, his tail settled gently across her back and his chin rested gingerly across her forehead. Whatever troubled her did not need to be voiced aloud, all he needed to do was simply sit in the moment with her. They had grown together and pushed through the many trials and tribulations of life. This was simply another moment.

Perhaps she too felt the aching loss of Blizzardshine's physical body being stripped of its pure soul. Perhaps.

Beartooth allowed himself to drift into slip with Ridgelight tucked safely into his body. Their particularly close relationship had grown over the moons as they grew up side by side and something festered underneath the surface that was more than the mere, sibling-like bond they had forged in kithood. It was a quiet love. One that was almost contradictory to her true nature. The tabby seldom thought such things. But as he began to lose consciousness next to her, he found himself comforted by the thought that she had come to him.

The moment had passed as quickly as it had come, leaving the warrior drowsy as he was roused from deep rest. Ridgelight seemed to shrink further into the semi-empty nest as he abandoned her for duty's sake. Before padding away, he paused briefly to flick his tongue in a short lick across her forehead. There were patrols to be had. And as expected, Marshstorm was there to assign him one. His many-padded claws stretched and dug into the earth for a second as he sought to awaken his muscles. He nodded to the deputy, his former mentor, before offering a similar wordless greeting to the warrior that he had mentored. While Lynxtail opted to grab a mouse, Beartooth was contented to wait until the rest of the patrol was ready to depart. It was during that time that the newly named medicine cat apprentice joined him. Immediately, his head dipped in greeting and his maw showed the faintest hints of a toothy, half-smile. He remembered her as a kit, and as a warrior apprentice.

Although, the thought that she now trained under Pricklebush caused his faint expression to falter. He still could not bear to think of the rift that had grown between them, and the moments in which the medicine cat had sneered at him and filled him with nearly inescapable pits of self-loathing. It was his adopted brother that had taught him to see himself as a monster. And it was that which had shoved him into an emotional ice water that had choked the life out of him since their conversation. Only Ridgelight had pulled him from the depths. His mind was a simple thing, very directional in thought, and he had to focus on the task as paw as he padded out of the camp, pulling slightly ahead of the she-cat and following at Marshstorm's heels.

A small smile brightened her face as Marshstorm agreed, one which still looked forced for the most part. Dipping her head respectfully, she mewed quietly. "Thank you, Marshstorm." With that confirmed, she turned to look at the other members of the patrol, spotting Lynxtail eating a mouse, and much closer Beartooth. She returned the nodded greeting, a more genuine smile replacing the indifferent one that had come.

She had picked up on the tense air that surrounded her mentor and Beartooth, but just because Pricklebush didn't like him didn't mean that she couldn't. She took a step forward and extended her nose towards the warrior. "Hi, Beartooth! It's been a while, I hope you're doing well?" She purred, happy to see the company she was in.

Once it was time to go, Beartooth pulled ahead slightly as they made their way to the ravine, and she waited as he climbed before starting her ascent up, being careful not to let her injured paw be placed somewhere unstable. It took a little more time than usual, but she hurried as much as she could to not hold everyone up. Reaching the top, she waited with the other two toms for Lynxtail.

The brown tabby tom looked up and twitched his ears. 'Where are they?' He blinked and looked around, his green eyes wide. Aha! They were already waiting for him at the top of the gorge. The tom's whiskers twitched in confusion. He must've missed them somehow.
Never mind that. Lynxtail pushed himself to his paws, his stomach lurching as he did so. It was normal to feel a little dizzy first thing in the morning, right? Lynxtail shook himself. It didn't really matter. The sooner they patrolled, the sooner he would be able to sleep, and maybe then he'd feel a bit- no, the sooner he'd be able to find more things to help with.

The trip up the ravine was unusually slow. Normally the warrior wouldn't think twice about scampering along the worn pathway, but every time he tried to leap forward, his head spun. He didn't want to fall and delay the start of the patrol further, so Lynxtail walked briskly instead, trying his best to move as quickly as possible.
When the brown tom finally reached the top, he felt exhausted. Perhaps he was pushing himself too hard. After all, he hadn't been getting much rest lately, and he'd only eaten one mouse instead of his usual two.
That was probably it. He was sure he'd heard somewhere that breakfast was the most important meal of the day. If he caught some prey during this patrol, Lynxtail would grab something from the Fresh-Kill pile afterward. Surely it didn't matter that this wasn't a hunting patrol- any prey would be welcome, no matter where it came from.
Still, Lynxtail felt a pang of guilt. If he was going to be looking for prey, he might as well catch two things instead of one. That way, he'd at least make a small difference.

Having made a plan, the golden-brown warrior turned his attention to the others, only to jump in surprise. Mosspaw? What was she doing here? Lynxtail shook his head, hoping to clear away some of the fog in his brain. He must've missed that, too.
"Sorry, I must've missed you guys. Should we get going?" He mewed breathlessly, his short tail twitching.

Marshtorm waited calmly for Lynxtail. His attention drawn to the green leaves and the bright glow of morning light. He breathed in deep the scents of the forest that for a brief period, had been gone. The time at the lake felt like so long ago, a memory buried beneath the tasks of the day to day. His eyes lowered to the camp. It was different now. Dens once green and overgrown on the roofs were now more bare. It was something only time would fix as moss grew over the thorny branches, followed by the creeping ivy leaves in the forest.

He turned his head to Lynxtail as the tom greeted him. Nodding his head as he pushed himself away from the camp and towards the borders. He set the pace at a moderate speed. Their steps quick and sure through the undergrowth, but not rapid. Not rushed in any way. There was no need to rush full tilt to a border that was likely to be peaceful. A few foxlengths from the border however, a strange scent seemed to cloud the air. Followed by the stench of fox.

His claws dug into the dirt as he stopped dead in his tracks. Jaws parted to seperate the scents as he looked around. Amber eyes attempting to focus through the light.
"Does anyone else smell it?" He meowed to his patrol members, stepping around Beartooth who had been close behind him, to scent for the she-cat more carefully. It was painfully familiar. Definitely ThunderClan, and stale.... but strange. Something was off about it.

DUstcloud's ears were pinned against her skull as the faint yet fowl scent of a fox wafted past her nose. It was mixed with the smell of an extremely familiar she-cat- Ridegelight- and extremely subtly, what she recognized as the scent of milk. In that moment she tried her best to concentrate on the immediate threat that was at paw... She could ponder the reasoning behind the other two scents later. She stopped walking, closing her eyes and parting her jaw so that she could get a better idea of which direction the smell of the large russet predator was coming from. "Emberheart, th-there's a fox nearby. W-We need to t-track it." She opened her eyes again and turned to face the younger she-cat, pointing her tail in the direction that they would need to follow. With the camp just now getting back to normal, the last thing ThunderClan needed was for a fox to show up, wrecking the recent repairs and injuring as well as possibly killing any of her Clanmates.

When she saw that Emberheart had caught on and was ready to set off, she nodded her head and followed the scent, keeping her jaws parted and her ears forward so that she could pick up on any sounds or smells that might point her in a more accurate direction. The pace of her heartbeat quickened as the smell got stronger, along with the scent of stale milk and her former apprentice. She moved swiftly as she traveled through the familiar territory, beautiful shades of green flying past her as she attempted to get to the root of the smell as fast as she could. Her eyes darted back to Emberheart every so often, just to make sure that the she-cat was doing alright.

That there was a fox on the territory was possibly the most terrifying thing for Emberheart to realize - her experiences with them in the past, while few and far between, had been far from pleasant. Nevertheless, she swallowed down the fear she felt; if the safety of her Clan and Clanmates were on the line then she would fight until her last breath. She had sworn to do so once, after all, and while it felt like a lifetime ago now she still meant every word.

Staying as silent as possible and trailing behind the older cat, Emberheart tried very hard not to think about foxes as the scent grew stronger. The presence of two other familiar scents - Ridgelight and the scent of milk - helped with that somewhat, but only for a moment. After all... What if they were too late to help?

Mosspaw's ears perked at the laboured sounds of Lynxtail's breathing, and she looked at him with eyes filled with concern. Making a note to herself to keep an eye on him as they walked, she stayed towards the middle of the group of them. Her mind was focused on the task of finding herbs, so she had to come to an abrupt stop as Marshstorm did. The way he stood, the deputy seemed to be almost nervous... She opened her mouth, sensing the air. The first thing that hit her was the stench of fox, and her fur bushed up. Next though, almost covered by the fox, was the scent of milk, and ThunderClan, although the couldn't place which cat through the foxscent. She put her nose to some of the foliage around them, trying to get a better trail. "Marshstorm, there's the scent of milk here, under the fox..." She trailed off, not wanting to finish what she wanted to say. If there was milk scent, and fox scent... No, maybe they wouldn't be too late already.

"I'm fine." Beartooth meowed lowly, his breath hitching for a moment as she spoke. The cheerful disposition reminded him of Ridgelight but he was not used to addressing cats with such forwardness, especially with his inclination towards an entirely different manner of interaction.  Simply following along, the Thunderclan warrior went about his duties at the heels of the deputy without another word. He padded along with the patrol silently. When Marshstorm lifted his maw, the warrior followed suit. His senses had never been the most spectacular but in his youth, the deputy had taught him the importance of relying on things other than sight. It was for this reason only that he managed to pick out two of the scents: a stale remnant of Ridgelight, and something fresher... fox. It appeared the others had gathered it as well. But Mosspaw picked up on something else, something that made Beartooth tilt his head. Milk?

"What does that mean, Mosspaw?" He pried, speaking out of place for once as that particular factor seemed to worm itself into his mind. Although with the scent of fox reeking over the surrounding area, his many claws had already crept out from their sheaths. Beartooth was ready for a fight. His eyes scanned the clearing and stopped at a slight movement a ways ahead. The thing was barely discernible from the foliage around it. His head tilted once more, confusion over the unusual circumstance but before he could say anything there was a flash of orange fur. Fox.

Lynxtail blinked and rubbed his face vigorously with his paw. "Does anyone else smell it?" He swung his head towards the others, his confusion evident on his face. His jaws parted and he tested the air.
And the fox's scent hit him like a stone flung by the paws of a Monster, just like the ones he'd encountered while journeying through Twolegplace. The strength of the smell nearly sent Lynxtail reeling backward. He bit his tongue to keep himself from gagging, and as his vision swirled, he found himself wondering how he missed such a noticeable stench. "Definitely recent," He mewed slowly. Turning his green gaze towards Mosspaw, the young tom found himself suddenly nervous. 'Milk scent?' "If there's milk... maybe the fox has pups?" That was the last thing he needed now. After all, ever Thunderclan kit had grown up hearing stories of legendary fox battles, and there was always one lesson that always stuck with them: a fox was one thing, but a furious mother vixen was something else entirely. Besides, Lynxtail wasn't sure he'd be able to dispatch a litter of fox younglings, no matter how much of a threat they were to Thunderclan.
Almost instantly, Lynxtail's tufted ears flattened and his gaze dropped to his paws. The reprimand was swift, and hit him like a solid blow to the stomach. Coward. A true warrior would be willing to kill countless fox pups for their clan. What kind of cat are you?

Still, the brown warrior was sure that they'd have trouble dealing with a fox on their own, especially since Mosspaw was with them. He turned to Marshstorm. "Should we go back to camp and get-?"
Before he had time to finish his sentence, a flash of russet fur caught Lynxtail's attention. His head snapped towards it mechanically. "Is that...?" His question died on his lips as his hackles began to rise. It looked like help wouldn't be an option.

The young warrior tried to step smoothly into a fighting stance but found himself struggling to find purchase on the suddenly unstable earth. Was he... falling?
The answer came in the form of the solid earth against his chin, snapping his jaws shut with a clack that rattled him. By the time he'd scrambled to his feet, Lynxtail's confidence had completely given way to doubt. He glanced again at his patrolmates, trying to glean from their expressions if a fox was really present, or if it had just been a trick of the light.