Eight Legs [closed]

The transition from tree to den had been too much for the little guy. There was nothing Aspenheart could do. He was dead, and his mate would mourn the loss for seasons. It was only a matter of time. If only he had seen the signs. Maybe it was silly to be so distraught about a spider, but Crawl-rick didn't deserve to die.

Shortstack and Spindly worked hard and saved Aspenheart entire days' trips to gather cobwebs, but just a half-moon ago, the medicine cat decided he needed an extra spinner around camp. Carrying spiders home was quite a chore in itself, however, and Crawl-rick was a feisty one. Crawl-rick was a name of his own invention: the arrival of the loner Patrick got him thinking about the names they carried. Pat... rick... It sounded a lot like a warrior's name when broken down into two phrases. Patkit. Patpaw. Patrick. Thus, Crawl-rick was the name he chose when ushering in Shortstack's new mate. He liked to think his affection for his bugs was a secret, but in truth, most of the clan knew who he was cooing at in the late hours of the night. Maybe he took it too far. Maybe he should have considered a spider's food supply in a tiny, dark hole in the ground. Maybe Shortstack, Spindly, and Crawl-rick's existence was a complicated way to maintain some sort of control over his life. Maybe watching Crawl-rick twitch for the last time carried the same emotional weight of watching his friends die, because it felt like an unavoidable truth. The foxes didn't kill Barleytuft, but maybe the next bought of greencough would. Finchstar had many more lives to give, but what if a mutt took each and every one?

And so he found himself bundling Crawl-rick's body up in a beech leaf, preparing to bury his body. He was feeling quite foolish already when he nearly smacked into a sturdy she-cat's frame.

"Oh-!" he said, muffled by the leaf in his mouth. He set it down as gently as he could. "Sandpaw. Do you... need something?"

Sandpaw had stood there for a while, her scrawny and sandy self quiet with her sadness. Aspenheart- he had been angry at first but out of all of the clan's cats - aside from Finchstar - she felt as if he was the closest to terms of forgiveness. Everyone knew about Aspenheart's spiders, but nobody challenged him on it. There was a fondness everyone had around the scrawny medicine cat. One she was jealous of. But as she stood there, watching him mourn the loss of his spider, Sandpaw felt a tug at her heart. Lion Skull was a loss she carried with her daily.

Crouching in front of the leaf, Sandaw spoke softly. "It's okay to feel loss. Lion Skull was not my kit, but I loved him dearly." The apprentice paused, as she figured out how to word what she wanted to say. "You've taken on the oath of the medicine cat, you aren't allowed to have kits... These spiders are your kits." StarClan, she was so bad with words. She stood up, still staring at the lead. "Do you want to bury him next to Lion Skull? I'm sure Lion Skull could use a friend to play with." Finally, she glanced up at the tom in front of her.

With a few blinks of confusion, it dawned on Aspenheart had been watched for quite some time before taking note of her presence. Her misstep with the predators was still fresh in all cats' minds, and he was no exception. He couldn't find it in him to be angry or sassy or rude. He was just disappointed in his own ability. It always had to be him; this was just a simple fact of life. He spoke for the ancestors even when they didn't want to speak back. He would watch his clanmates die around him. He would deliver countless stillborn kits.

He wanted to be detached. He wasn't. Sandpaw seemed to understand that. Aspenheart made the decision to humor her offer. With a curt nod, an unspoken understanding of "everything is wrong and it's unfair," he allowed the she-cat to lead him to her surrogate son's final resting place.

"I should be used to it by now," he murmured, his nasally voice muffled by the leaf in his jaws. "It never gets easier. These foxes... they're dredging up memories I didn't want to think about. The things we witnessed in the mountain... That never leaves. It always stays. I eat prey facing away from me now, you know, because of the eyes. There's something horrible about watching the clan that brought you up and made you into the cat you are today slowly wither around you." His gaze flickered to the she-cat. "Everyone was stressed. Pretty traumatized. It wasn't a smart move, but... well, I'm not sure if I can even blame you anymore. I launched myself at a dog three times my size and got thrown down a cliffside, so who's the real loser here?"

Sandpaw led the medicine cat to the stump, her eyes wide open and alert. StarClan, if anything happened to the medicine cat under her watch she really may as well leave the clan and never return this time. The small sandy cat listened to the medicine cat as they neared the stump. As they neared the tiny bird skull signifying Lion Skull's grave, the silver tom mentioned her incident. With an internal sigh, she held back an immediate answer to both this and the cliff incident. Carefully next to her son, she scooped two pawfuls of dirt for the medicine cat. It would be much easier for her. Taking a step back, she gazed down at the two, tiny graves. Finally she spoke. A medicine cat could be trusted, right? "I don't feel like I belong here any more. The cats I grew up with are mainly dead, and the ones that are around hate me..." She sighed, her blue gaze never leaving the dirt. "I feel trapped and suffocated, but in a way not of a tunnel collapse but of a never ending tunnel you can't find the exit of. Both of my living brothers have their names. Grousefrost has had two children now. Rabbitleaf is a warrior too- and he's kind of lazy. I'm trapped, forever stuck in this- this - this state of being a kit! Cats born even after I have returned are warriors now. And because I made one mistake, my brother wants to seal off the one tiny rabbit hole of escape?" Her voice was shaky, taunt with moons of held back stress, and grief, and emotions. She shifted her looks to the direction of the river. "At the dig site, I was someone. I was special. I was Sandy Bones, the best digger ever. Here?" She turned towards camp. "I am nothing. I'm Sandpaw, the forever apprentice. A digger, but not special enough to be guided by StarClan. A back up." Her shoulders drooped and she laid down next to her son. "I killed Lion Skull by bringing him here, and I almost killed four cats for being here. Maybe it's better if I wasn't here."

Aspenheart listened as Sandpaw unburdened herself of all her thoughts. He smiled, despite the glumness of the activity they were carrying out. Sandpaw, like her brother Grousefrost, wasn't known for being very open. Her pride was a shield. The medicine cat knew what that was like. He didn't mind listening; being a confidante for his clanmates was one of the less discussed aspects of his unique role, but it was one he enjoyed the most. WindClan was a family in itself for him, and he made it a point to acquaint himself with the struggles and sorrows of the members of his kin. How could he treat him if he didn't know them at all? Besides, being a lonely cripple with a perfectly good apprentice to send around, he didn't have much else to do.

"But they didn't die, did they?" he said warmly. "They're safe and sound... and they won't be angry forever. StarClan won't give me anything else to work with, nobody knows where the predators came from, and we can't even send out warriors anymore unless in groups of three. It's not you. It's fear. I've heard it said that most herbs grow best after the harshest Leafbare. You're a marigold if I've ever seen one, Sandpaw." Gently, Aspenheart placed his littlest spider in his final resting place, covering it over with dirt from a trembling paw. "It's not too late. None of this is permanent. Nothing is ever permanent. I have a feeling your time is coming. I... Well, I'm sorry if I underestimated you."