The wretched truth (Open for TC)

(See first thread here for details.)

Ridgelight woke slowly. The nest beside her was cold and empty as she opened her eyes to stare at where Beartooth normally slept. Her mind churned over what it meant. He was probably on the morning patrol. Her belly ached, and she curled deeper into her nest. Thoughts of her little kits coming into her mind unbidden. The tiny calico, the little grey pair, a dark tabby like his father... a pale one. Her ears flattened as she pushed her face into her nest to stop her tears from showing.

She had to do it. Going back wasn't an option. If she ran into a patrol... but what if they were alive? Her heart leapt at the thought, even as her mind reasoned they wouldn't be. The fox scent had been recent, and it likely would have found them by now. Starclan, she hoped it was quick... merciful. She didn't want her entire life to be dictated by the tiny little beings she'd brought into the world.

Didn't want to be confined. She whimpered softly as the thought of why she hadn't left them in the path of another border patrol. At least they'd be in different clans? She shook her head. She couldn't have bared the thought of it. The thought of growing up seeing them, but never talking to them cut deeper than any claw. With a heavy sigh, she lifted her head. The sky outside was turning overcast. Cats were milling after the morning hunting patrol, and knowing she'd be on the evening one, she stood and padded over to the freshkill pile. Picking out a mouse to eat in the corner.

They would never taste a mouse. Or a vole, or bird... she bit down hard to crack a bone. It didn't matter. They didn't matter. She had to forget them... it was the only thing she could do.

Trying to move swiftly yet gently had proved extremely hard for Dustcloud, yet she had managed to get back to ThunderClan's camp with the kit safely in a timely manner. Besides being coated in the blood of its own siblings and perhaps a few scratches and cuts, the newborn kit didn't seem to have any life-threatening issues that she could locate herself. That didn't stop her, however, from gingerly placing the kit on the ground and yowling for ThunderClan's medicine cat. "Pricklebush! I n-need you, q-quick!" Seeing as it was still morning, she saw no reason why the young medicine cat would have left already.

In her rush to get the kit to safety, Dustcloud hadn't even noticed Ridgelight enjoying a mouse nearby the freshkill pile. It only took one glance, however, and the gravid she-cat was suddenly filled with nothing but pure rage. Her own former apprentice! Had she not taught her better than this!? Now that she knew the poor young kit would be safe in the heart of ThunderClan, a foul mixture of disappointment and anger swirled in her vivid blue eyes. It took every fiber of strength she had within her small body not to march over to the warrior and cuff her on the ear right in the middle of camp. She hoped that Marshstorm's words were true- no matter how much love Dustcloud had for Ridgelight, in her eyes this crime was absolutely inexcusable. Only out of sheer worry for the kit made Dustcloud stay where she was, the kit placed protectively between her front legs as she waited for the medicine cat to come and check over it.

All plans to return to Mistlepaw's training in RiverClan vanished when Pricklebush heard the desperation with which his name was called out. He dropped the bundle of herbs in his mouth immediately, feeling his heart rate spike like it hadn't since Sharptooth, adrenaline giving him a burst of speed as he ran out of the medicine den. Wild eyes cast around the camp, searching for the source of the call- and his eyes widened even further as they caught sight of Dustcloud... and the blood covered kit. His heart dropped. Everything around him blurred into unimportance. Oh StarClan. Not again. Flashbacks of a dying kit on his den's floor pushed at the corners of his brain as he raced towards the tiny scarlet-coated form. Explanations, from possible to irrational, filled his mind, accompanied with the jumbled mix of emotions he was already feeling, of which fear was the most prevalent. His worst fears as medicine cat, it seemed, were coming true.

The large tan tom skidded to a stop and hurriedly glanced over the tiny, almost newborn cat, searching for the source of the blood. However, the longer he looked, the more his immediate panic began to ebb. It didn't seem that the kit itself was the source of all the crimson fluid now pooling on the ground of camp. Instead, there were only a couple of tiny scratches. Eyes narrowing somewhat in both curiosity and confusion, he sniffed the kit, only to recoil backwards at the strong scents he was surprised he hadn't noticed yet. The overpowering smell of fox rolled over him... and the stench of death. Thick and strong. But, the kit wasn't dead. Pricklebush began to lick the foul-tasting blood from the tiny tom-kit, questions circling through every inch of his being. After he was satisfied that the kit was in no immediate danger, the medicine cat looked up, meeting Dustcloud's eyes. "What... happened?" he asked lowly, worry and suspicion clouding his gaze. "I smell fox, and death, on this kit. Where did you find him? Whose kit is he? Who... died?" He didn't even notice the guilt and sorrow on Ridgelight's face a few fox-lengths away.

The mouse tasted strange. It had an odd, salty flavour as she ate. Pushing past sobs that tore in her throat and the tears that fell down her cheek fur. Each bite felt labouring, but she endured until half of it was gone. Dustcloud’s sudden appearance barely drew a glance. Instead, she focused on cleaning away the tears and blood from her muzzle.

Hunting. She’d go hunting, and maybe... her heart clenched. Maybe she could see her kits one last time. Maybe... she could claim they were abandoned by another cat...

Those hopes, were dashed immediately as a familiar and large dark Tom stormed into camp. Droplets of rain falling onto her pelt as she winced and backed away from the voice that rumbled her name, viciously as thunder in a storm.

“RIDGELIGHT! ” Marshstorm’s yowl broke through the chatter of camp. His pelt covered in debris from the bush the kits had died in. His amber eyes, normally calm and patient, ablaze in the light of his anger. The she-cat, one of his own clan... the idea of what she had done hurt, but that she had actually done it?

Unforgivable.

His gaze landed on her, rage unabated as he stood. Dark pelt bristled as he looked sharply at Lynxtail.
“Get Leopardstar.” he ordered as he padded towards her, placing himself firmly in the path of the camp entrance. “and you, get to high rock. Now.”

Ridgelight flinched, then padded towards high rock in shock, but as she watched the other cats in the patrol, she saw mosspaw... and she knew. It felt like a condemnation as she lowered her head and padded to the base of high rock with a mournful glance. Her heart trembled as she risked a glance at Beartooth.

Another protest came from the young kit, large ears swaying slightly as it wriggled to and fro underneath Pricklebush's persistent rasps. His not yet open eyes almost seemed to flutter slightly with agitation as his little tail lashed. Much like with Mosspaw, a high-pitched kit screech escaped his strong lungs as his tiny paws blindly tried to fight of the enemy ruffling his coat. It was likely hungry. Everything was discontenting since the warmth of the mother had moved away. Now, it was the constant movement that aggravated the instinctual little scrap of fur. All the newly born tabby wanted to do was feed and seek out warmth. Neither of those things seemed readily available, and so he was discontent with all of the cats passing him around.

Blood flecked the warrior's pelt. His wounds were not deep or debilitating, but his gait suggested damange. Beartooth's shoulders were hunched forward, somehow more so than usual and his tail dragged in the dirt. Ears drooped back against his skull. He said nothing and did little more than glance wearily around the camp. Seeing Pricklebush caused the cotton to fill his mouth more than it already had. If it weren't for what he had spotted, the tom might have averted his gaze in a mere heartbeat. At the medicine cat's paws was a kit. His kit. It writhed in the filth it had been born into, searching for some form of comfort that it seemed to not find in the rhythm of his adoptive brother's tongue. Once upon a time, the bulky warrior would not have hesitated to curl himself around a kit. But after all these moons, much like he had felt with Sharptooth's kits, he couldn't bring himself to pad more closely.

It seemed as if every cat was driven by a righteous anger, wanting to strike Ridgelight down and bring justice for the memory of the kits that had been torn apart by the fox. His kits. The sheer incomprehensibility of the circumstance was something he could not wrap his mind around. Beartooth was stricken mainly by grief, and a whole host of other emotions that made his chest heavy as the stones of Sunningrocks. So many things happened all at once. The tom could not even feel the sting of his wounds as he stared absentmindedly at he little kit. After a long moment without moving, he finally swung his head to stare at Ridgelight. Pain shown in his eyes, the most telling part of who he was, as it always had been. Betrayal, agonizing sadness, confusion, and so much more. He longed to pad to her side and tell her everything would be okay, as he would have done if she had shared with him her burden. But now he could hardly bring himself to move.

Beartooth padded only a few steps into camp before he had stopped. After a few moments of deliberation, he hadn't come to a conclusion. Everything inside threatened to rip him apart, and yet it left him simply feeling empty and heavy. He opted to avoid the kit, not wanting to upset Pricklebush, and shuffled slightly closer to Ridgelight. There was still a few taillengths between the pair and he made no specific motion to comfort her. However, he spared her another sorrowful glance before letting his gaze fall to his paws. Teeth clenched briefly, allowing the elongated fangs to dig into his lower jaw once again, as they had so many times before. And he felt nothing. What was happening?

His eyes were dark and flat, completely void of the cheerful light they usually held. "Get Leopardstar."
His anger had slowly drained away, leaving behind nothing but numb shock and a faint sense of loathing, like a sharp stone underfoot. It would grow more irritable over time, but right now, the young tom was emotionally and physically exhausted.
The brown tabby turned and padded towards his father's den. "Leopardstar!" His voice sounded alien, and he suddenly lacked the strength to speak with emotion. "Hurry. Marshstorm will explain."
He turned and exited the den, swallowing repeatedly as his throat begin to tighten. The young warrior's eyes welled with tears, and he rubbed them furiously with his foreleg before padding around Highrock.

The moment he saw Ridgelight, a sharp flare of disgust hit him so strongly that it nearly made him stumble. He shoved past her roughly, his gaze trained on his paws, his claws digging into the soft earth. This she-cat, his clanmate, had committed the worst crime a cat was able to. She'd left a litter of newborn kits to die, alone, afraid and completely helpless in the heart of the forest.
That wasn't her only option. She could've arranged for another queen to nurse them, she could've asked Pricklebush for advice, she could've asked someone, anyone for guidance. But instead, Ridgelight threw them away like crowfood.
She was no better than his mother.

Lynxtail stopped just short of the gathering crowd, still staring resolutely at the ground. His mind was full to the brim, but he couldn't begin to form a thought, let alone navigate his way through his clanmates. The shock of seeing the abandoned litter had finally hit him full force, and the young tom was suddenly unable to move. He was nothing more than a tiny kit, alone and half-starved in the forest, crying for the mother that hated him.

The tension in the air was so thick you could slice it with a claw.

The camp aura, formerly calm and airy, had escalated and heated quicker than a WindClan cat. 

Copperheart looked up from his grooming with a nervous and confused expression, eyebrow raised slightly. First, Dustcloud had scrambled frantically into camp, anxiously beckoning for Pricklebush to aid whatever was troubling her. His yellow eyes dilating in curiosity, the ginger tom flicked an ear towards them to get an understanding of what was happening.

"I smell fox, and death, on this kit. Where did you find him? Whose kit is he? Who... died?"

His fur flared, muscles suddenly tense and body hot. Copperheart barely had any time to further comprehend the words, Marshstorm storming into camp with a furious voice. Upon hearing the name that rung from his throat, Copperheart's gaze instantly turned on the she-cat spoken of. Though only briefly, the warrior had very much noticed Ridgelight's strange behavior that day. After all, if Copperheart was to devote himself to his Clan, he had to be attentive, right? That aside, when he connected the anger the returning patrol radiated towards Ridgelight and the words he had just heard a few moments before...

Copperheart's mind halted. Not because of a realization of what happened, no. It was his brother, Lynxtail. The brown tom held no cheeriness or light at all, his eyes pale of emotion and feeling. Compared to his usual laid-back demeanor, the tabby looked stiff, and his voice was tense and hoarse as if it had been robbed of any reason to hold sentiment.

He wasted no time in immediately getting up from where he was sitting and urgently sprinting towards the tom. Copperheart held nothing but concern, the feeling laced in his voice. "Lynx? What happened?" His tone was not loud. It was quiet, but not tense or sharp. It was filled with worry, yet it wasn't a voice that made him seem like he was babying him. It held a sense of comfort, the type of tone held in it something only siblings would understand. 

Copperheart was far from the best with physical comfort, but he quietly placed his paw on top of his brother's, looking around for their sister. Bat needed to be here.

Mosspaw padded at the back of the rest of the patrol, the remaining kit hanging from her jaws. She had walked slowly and purposefully, taking care not to jostle the poor, tiny thing. Entering the camp, her eyes searched for Dustcloud and the other kit, and she soon saw them with Pricklebush and her shoulders relaxed. Next, her eyes met Ridgelight's, and her fur bristled in anger at the sight of her half-eaten mouse, eyes flashing with an unspoken rage. Stalking over to Pricklebush to help with the other kit, she ignored Ridgelight completely until she was by her mentor's side. Setting the long gone kit down a tail length away, she looked up to the prickly tom's face. Speaking quietly, she murmured. "I didn't see any immediate wounds.... Can you look over this one? I think it's too late, but.... I don't want to miss anything Pricklebush.... If there's hope, I want to find it..." She gestured to the tiny kits body, tears starting to form in her eyes. She choked as she continued to speak. "I'll finish cleaning this one and try to get him warm."

She knelt down next to the small, screeching tom, curling around him as she resumed his cleaning. Her belly and paws were already stained with the blood from the fox and the kits, so she didn't care much if more got on her from the kit. Her licks were smooth, and she quietly purred to the kit to try to calm him down and get him to relax. She hoped with all of her heart that between her body warmth and the gentle cleaning he would be able to rest, even if he wasn't fed yet. She stared blankly ahead as she did so, unable to rid her mind of the memory of that torn bush, with only a few tokens to speak for the rest of the litter, and her tears began to silently fall.

Emberheart stood with the rest of the newly returned patrol, looking anywhere but at Ridgelight - though her mind told her resentment and anger would do no one any good, and more importantly that Marshstorm had things under control, she couldn't help that tiny piece of rage and sadness that still clung to her. The most she could do now was avoid it. At last, her gaze finally settled on Mosspaw, and by extension the other kit they'd found on their patrol - the one that Dustcloud had carried back to camp. It seemed, then, that there might still be something left to salvage from this mess after all. The weather almost seemed to reflect the atmosphere, she noted absently as raindrops began to splash onto her fur.

~

The day had started with a relatively regular morning; Batbite had still been halfway asleep while relaxing in one corner of the camp; aware of but away from the constant bustling of her Clanmates as what felt like most of ThunderClan gathered around her. Dustcloud's voice carried over the crowd to reach her ears, a desperate call for Pricklebush's assistance. Had something happened, then...? She had to admit she was intrigued, but she was also sure that she could just hear about whatever happened later, and she didn't especially want to move.

Marshstorm, her deputy and former mentor, storming into camp along with the rain and yowling for - at? - Ridgelight, however, caught her attention much more strongly. Aside from jolting her entirely awake, this wasn't something she could wait for someone else to tell her about - she wanted to observe whatever it was that could make Marshstorm so furious, to see it with her own two eyes. Slowly, she rose to her paws to see what was going on. As she approached, though, Copperheart's eyes met her own, and in an equally silent response to his unspoken request, she made her way to her brothers.

Upon reaching them, it only took a moment to realize something was wrong, and despite the rain starting to soak into her fur, she slipped with ease into the space between them. As she rested her tail on the unresponsive Lynxtail's shoulder, she looked to Copperheart for answers to unasked questions. What was going on, and more specifically what was going on with Lynxtail? Then again, she supposed she'd probably get a better answer from the source... If he could bring himself to answer at all.

"Lynx?" she asked, keeping her voice softer than it might have been any other day, "What's going on?"

Marshstorm watched as the she-cat in question padded towards High-rock slowly. Rain began to slowly descend, falling down onto the dry forest floor as she sat there. Head tilted down, ears flattened. The display did not grant her any sympathy from the large dark tom on the rock. When Leopardstar did not emerge, he took a deep breath. It was in his paws then. His pelt still burned with fury as he glared down at the pale calico.

"Cats of ThunderClan. A terrible atrocity has been committed this day, by this she-cat." He lifted his gaze to the rest of the clan. Amber eyes burning with fire as he spoke, clearly and without hesitation. "While I was on the border patrol with Beartooth and Mosspaw, we came across a den. One made by this she-cat, with the remains of kits scattered in the wreckage. A fox was found, covered in their blood and driven away." His glare turned back down to her. "She chose to abandon her kits, when a nursing queen would have been able to take them in. As it stands, we recovered one survivor of the wreckage, dare I ask how many there was?" His voice lowered, gaze unrelenting as Ridgelight shifted beneath it.

One survived. The thought echoed in Ridgelight’s head for a long moment as she risked a glance towards the medicine den. So that’s what Dustcloud had been carrying… her head lowered once more as she felt the reality sink in. Her kits were officially dead. Most of them.
“There was five.” She answered, her head lifting to look at the furious deputy. She had never seen him so angry.

"Did you know the fox was around?" The question struck Ridgelight hard. She breathed deeply, then confirmed it.
“I-I did. I thought it’d be quicker than them starving...” Then them suffering. A sharp burst of breath caught her attention from letting it wander.

"So, you left five kits to die. You knew there was a fox on ThunderClan territory… and you failed to report any of it?" His voice was steady. Calm as he suppressed his anger and concern. "I don’t think I should have to tell you how stupid that was. What if that fox had hurt some apprentice? What if it had gone after a warrior hunting? You deliberately neglected your duties. You practically handed over those kits to the fox, and yet, you seem to think that it was the right thing to do? That being ripped apart by teeth is a kinder fate?" His voice rose as his tail lashed behind him.

"We have a nursery, Ridgelight! We have queens. Did you think not a single one of them would have taken those kits in?" His eyes narrowed at Ridgelight now. "What you have done, is no less than murder. All I can do now is ask Why?"
Ridgelight looked down at her paws. The answer ‘I didn’t want to be stuck in there’ died on her tongue. The kits could have been adopted… they could have lived… and yet. She had condemned them. She glanced over at Beartooth, stung that he seemed completely appalled at her, but it was hardly a surprise. All she had wanted was her freedom.

“I just… I didn’t want to be trapped in there.” She meowed, her voice soft and barely audible above the rain. “I just… I wouldn’t have been a good mother anyways!” her meow turned into a yowl of frustration and grief. She’d never have been able to give them attention. She’d never have been able to care for them right, but the wound dug deep. Another queen WOULD have.

Pricklebush's question was indirectly answered when the fiercely angry deputy made his way into camp, looking like the storm for which he was named. Marshstorm jumped onto Highrock, then... yelled out his sister's name. With shock, the medicine cat turned to see Ridgelight padding slowly, tail between her legs, towards the Highrock. His surprise and unease only grew at the fact that she was no longer pregnant. When he'd learned that his sweet, innocent sister was Beartooth's mate, it had sickened him. Not only that she could find something to love about the long clawed tom, but that she was romantically involved with a cat she'd always called her brother. However, he'd only settled to tell her she was pregnant and offer a sparse word of congratulations before sitting back in his den, mind whirling. But she was obviously no longer pregnant.. where were her kits?

Just then, Mosspaw ran up to him, looking distraught. He'd never seen an expression of that magnitude on the sweet she-cat's face. She carried- oh StarClan no- she carried the unmoving, still body of a kit in her jaws. His apprentice set the kit down, tremulously asking him if there was anything he could do, but the sinking feeling in his gut as he looked over the bloody form told him he was too late. Again. This kit was actually dead. The same smells of fox and death assaulted him, and he felt his eyes sting as he lay its small body down. It was too young. Too young for this kind of death. He stared down at it, lost completely in a reverie of sorrow, but as he was considering where he should bury the poor thing Marshstorm's voice interrupted, bringing him back to reality. Addressing the Clan.

His sister looked terrified, ears back, head down. Marshstorm looked angrier than he'd ever seen him. However, glancing around, the medicine cat noticed that Dustcloud, Emberheart, and Lynxtail had similar expressions- ranging from disbelieving anger to downright fury- as they looked at his warrior sister. All the things making him uneasy started to add up. Ridgelight's kits... what had happened to them? And what did she have to do with the dead kit and living one?

Suspicion grabbed him by the scruff and wouldn't let go, even as the deputy began his tirade. He thought he couldn't feel any worse after the dead kit... but oh was he wrong. Atrocity... Remains of kits... Fox was found... Abandon her kits. Slowly, as if he couldn't bear to do it, Pricklebush turned to look at his sister. She couldn't have. Not his caring, bubbly Ridgelight. It couldn't have been her. She would never... She... But the guilt written all over her face said it all.

There was five.

Oh, StarClan.

Her kits. His own relations. His flesh and blood relative had left five beautiful, innocent kits to die a gruesome and bloody death- why? Why? I didn't want to be trapped in there. Dear, dear StarClan. His own sister. His own sister. His own sister. He took a stunned step back, shock and disbelief and an abject horror written across his face. She had left five of her own kits to die! To be ripped apart by a ravening fox! Because she would be bored in the nursery! Who was this she-cat he'd adored his whole life? The chaotic mix of emotions swirling around inside him couldn't solidify- grief for the deaths. Rage at the injustice. Shock at the callousness. Disbelief in his own sister... His own sister... A murderer. Of kits. At least Hailpaw hadn't killed deliberately. At least she'd given her opponents a fighting chance. She had committed crime, yes, but Ridgelight had performed an abomination.

The medicine cat sat stunned, hot emotion leaking from green eyes, paws and face and heart numbed by the sheer force of feelings overwhelming him. His own sister. What could he do? What should he do? If it was any other cat, he would be yowling at the top of his lungs for exile. But he couldn't speak. All he could do was stare at the she-cat he loved. He had loved. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would he ever do something like that. Kits... Five kits... Thoughts bounced around in his head, but he just stared. His throat was raw from the suppressed screams that couldn't escape. His eyes burned with the sorrow and pain. Finally, some words came out sounding rough and low and agonized and lost, lost forever. "How could you, Ridgelight?" Pricklebush whispered hollowly. "I don't know who you are anymore."

-

Echofrost had been minding his own business, grooming himself in the entrance to the warriors den, listening to the rain pelting the camp, filling it with mud. He was startled out of daydreaming when the morning patrol returned early. And with it, a strong scent of blood, death, and a fox. He jumped up, bolting out into the rain just in time to see Dustcloud rushing a tiny, bloody bundle to the medicine den. Is that a kit?! Then, the rest of the patrol entered, with Mosspaw lagging behind. She cried yet another scarlett bundle. Echofrost was struck with horror. Who's kits are those? He turned to see Marshstorm, with the most furious look he had ever seen on a cat. The name he yowled caught Echofrost completely off guard. RIDGELIGHT! Were... Were these her kits? But-but she was a sweet young warrior, not a murderer! Maybe there was some sort of mistake... No. There wasn't. And it wasn't only those two kits with one survivor, but there were originally five. Ridgelight attempted lame excuses, saying that she 'didn't want to be trapped there' and  'wouldn't have been a good mother anyways', but Echofrost didn't buy any of it. He walked forward until he was only a few tail lengths away from her, his icy blue eyes cold and unforgiving. "You... You MONSTER!" He exclaimed, his face contorted with rage. "How DARE you call yourself a ThunderClan warrior! Or a cat at all! Not even a fox would abandon its own kits to die! What sort of twisted spawn of the Dark Forest are you?!" Echofrost spat the words in a mix of fury and grief, remembering his own time as a lonely kit, growing up in the nursery with no family.

Ferretnose leaped to her feet at Marshstorm's violent call, each fur on her scruff prickling in alarm. Never in her life had she heard such a yowl rip through the camp, much less from their deputy, of all cats. As the whirlwind sent chaos into the clearing, Ferretnose had a decision to make. Where to go? What to do? She saw Pricklebush desperately reviving a blood-covered kit to her right, and Lynxtail with wet, weary eyes to her left. A miserable-looking Ridgelight and Beartooth stood to the side. Lynxtail's sibling huddled close around him, but who was to comfort Dustcloud, who hovered over the kitten? Ferretnose made her decision and ran through the rain towards Pricklebush, Mosspaw, and Dustcloud.

"What's going on?" she gasped, "Oh, stars." A lifeless kit drooped in Pricklebush's paws, and it was enough to make Ferretnose wretch. There was another that lived: a large eared kit that would have been an adorable little thing if he were not covered in blood... blood that came from no wound. Blood that was not his own. Fox-stink surrounded them. Marshstorm began his address from on top of highrock, and the thunder that came from the heavens could have been from StarClan themselves. With each sentence, Ridgelight dug her own tomb. She felt the sinfulness of it all clutch at her heart with needle-sharp claws, puncturing her. Her own clanmate. A cat she shared tongues with and hunted beside left her kits for dead. She was a murderer.

The brown-and-white tabby felt her paws moving towards highrock of their own accord. Her thick and voiceless tears mixed with the heavy rain. Pain, not rage, clouded her brain as if it were her left eye. She did not see Ridgelight, she saw the bane of the forest and everything most evil. While some yearned to have kits of their own, she didn't even have the common courtesy to give another she-cat the chance. How dare she stand in this camp, among these good cats, and claim to be one of them?

Though she wanted to speak, she couldn't find it in her. She was surrounded by yowls of anger and disgust, shame and disbelief... But a tragedy, a kit with a mother who tried to do away with him was mere tail lengths away. Where was the mercy for him? Why waste breath scolding the remorseless? In all her mental gymnastics, not once did Ridgelight express that she regretted what she did... unless nobody had asked her yet. Redemption was slim, but possible. Maybe she needed an opportunity still. If not, her answer to Ferretnose's question could turn the clan against her, but it had to be tried.

Barely above a whisper, eyes locked on Ridgelight, a question cut through the air. "Are you even sorry? Do you care that your son is covered in his siblings' blood, right over there behind you?" Her head hung low and passionless as she pleaded with the she-cat to show an ounce of sympathy. Maybe there was another way, if Ridgelight could somehow express that she gave a rat's tail about what she had done past her own selfish desires.

Streampaw was laying down next to the fresh-kill pile when the patrol arrived, holding a half-eaten vole between his paws. He stopped chewing rather abruptly when the urgency on the older cats was made obvious, only when he saw the bloody kit hanging from Dustcloud’s muzzle that he understood the reason why.

He felt like he had swallowed a stone instead of meat by the sudden weight and uneasiness in his stomach. He was quick to get on his paws and walked towards the group of cats gathering around the young newcomer, his breakfast now completely forgotten. He was careful to not get too close, not wanting to become an obstacle for the Medicine cats to work around, but also tense and ready to react if extra paws were needed.

'What in StarClan’s name…'

He wasn’t a stranger to kits being taken in by ThunderClan, but this? Was the kit even alive anymore? He was no Medicine cat, but the amount of blood coating their body…he knew it was not good, and couldn’t help but panic lightly, not knowing the blood wasn’t actually theirs.

His eyes went from the kit to Marshstorm as he started to speak. Many things crossed his mind. From fox-hearted rogues, to predatory animals attacking a loner queen and her kits. He wasn’t that far off on the second guess, but when the truth was dropped on them…he almost felt his leg give in under him, to the point he had to sit down just to make sure he wouldn’t collapse, and his sapphire blue eyes to fill up with tears.

He…he had to hear wrong…
He looked at Ridgelight, but any hope he had was utterly crushed when she not only didn’t try to claim innocence, but actually tried to justify herself in such…such a…fox-hearted way!

Part of him kind of took in Marshstorm’s words of her neglect and mistakes regarding the fox, but they were constantly being pushed back to the back of his head, only one fact remaining in the end…Ridgelight, his own sister, had committed murder, against kits! Her own kits! She had allowed her very own kits to die in the vicious maw of a fox and…

Shaky legs fought to keep his weight as he forced himself back on his paws, slow and hesitant steps carried him forward, towards Ridgelight as he saw his very world crumbling around him. He was barely recovering from their mother loss and knowing Hailpaw was going to be missing from his life for even longer thanks to RiverClan taking her away a second time, his life was finally stabilizing and returning to normal…and then this happened?

He stopped only a tail length or so from Ridgelight, looking at his sister’s eyes. Many words came to his mind, from sorrow-filled questions to enraged accusations, but none made it past the lump of his throat. He just couldn’t find his voice…but there was no need, as the one big question was clear as the calm flowing waters of the river in Greeleaf, full of emotions that ranged from confusion and sadness to rage and indignation…

‘Why?’

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonewatcher had been napping peacefully under the first sunrays, just like he always did. He hated to be bothered and forced to join morning patrols, but he found out that if he forced himself out of his nest rather early and found a nice secluded sunny patch of grass to nap on instead, the chances of him getting dragged in one were fairly lower…just what he wanted.

He wasn’t expecting to be wakened by the commotion brought to camp by that day’s morning patrol, though.

He raised is head with his usual smile, eyes looking at what was going on and mind storing every bit of information in extreme detail, to never be forgotten. It didn’t took him long to notice the blood covered kit…he didn’t seem to react much to the sight that immediately caused many in the clan to jump forward to help thanks to panic. Instead, he stood still with his usual smile never leaving his muzzle, something rather disturbing given the current situation, trying to put the pieces of this puzzle together instead of just rushing a situation he knew nothing about beyond the evident.

Like answering his unspoken request for more pieces to see the full picture, Marshstorm revealed what had happened to the clan at last.

…and for the first time, Bonewatcher’s signature smile wavered.

He had no direct connection to the kit, nor the family it supposedly belonged to, but this crime had managed to hit deep in a way even himself had no idea was possible. He had always put his own family above anything and everything, the ties that connected to them being his anchors and stabilizers in this life…they were what kept him going.

Knowing a cat was so willing to let their very own kits, their family and kin, perish in the maw of a fox, just for some freedom…for the first time he had found a way of thinking he could not understand. A way of thinking he wouldn’t even think possible of existing.

He stood up, no longer acting like himself, approaching the gathering crowd instead of watching from afar without intervening like he usually would do. While a shadows of a smile still remained on his muzzle, his eyes almost appeared to get darker, clouded by emotions triggered by the events unfolding before him.

“For a cat known to be so kind, you truly have proven to have a darker side than many…” His calm voice contrasted heavily against the rest of the cats that were yowling their enraged opinion…but the way he spoke, so cold and emotionless, it made it all the more unsettling “But I guess the most terrible monsters are the ones that have the prettiest masks, don’t you?”.