Beyond the Door, There’s Peace I’m Sure [Open]

Numbness crawled upwards from her paws as she struggled towards the nursery entrance, stumbling as pain dragged through every muscle and nerve in her body.

Having just left her half-digested lunch outside the camp boundaries, her initial reaction was to call out for Mistlepaw, but then the second wave of nausea hit and she bolted towards the nursery. Her head was spinning as she awkwardly collapsed in the middle of the reeds woven together around her. It felt like every nerve in her body was on fire, like her insides were being twisted around inside of her. Something was quite clearly wrong, and despite her calls for the young medicine cat apprentice, she didn't show. The realization hit her suddenly that she was likely out gathering herbs, or training with another Clan's medicine cat.

For this part, she was all alone.

Her jaw was clenched tightly as she struggled to breathe, sweat beginning to drip from her fur despite the intense shiver that was shaking her entire body. Her own head seemed to be screaming at her as she pushed for the first time, sharp and strong waves of pain rippling underneath her skin. Each second felt like an hour before she managed to birth her first kit, and she only had a moment before she began pushing again. Between each forced breath, she pushed again, ordering herself not to think about the kits lying behind her. It was after the fourth kit that the coughing began, raspy and hoarse. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she spared a glance at the unmoving kits, straining just to get the fifth one out. After several seemingly neverending moments of labored breathing and pushing, she managed to finish delivering every kit... Five of them weren't breathing, and the remaining two were hanging onto life by one tiny little claw.

With every heaving sob, Ivybrook's chest rose and fell. The kits she'd spent sunrises loathing were dead, for the most part. The kits that had grown within her own womb hadn't survived the birth, and she had. How was that right? What made StarClan so cruel, so... heartless? The tabby she-cat couldn't even bring herself to lift her head as the two struggling kittens kneaded her stomach weakly, their tiny paws pressing into her gently. Every time she coughed her entire body shook, throwing her into another fit of nausea. What was she supposed to do now? She had two kits who were just barely alive, and five still-borns. How was she supposed to move on from that?

---

Several moons had passed since Ivybrook gave birth to her kits- Shellkit, in honor of Shellwater, and Smokekit. One she-kit, and one tom. Though enough time had passed, the tabby deputy still felt nothing. She'd cried once at their birth, but since then, she felt empty. Sometimes it was like she wasn't even there, the shell of a cat who was just going through the motions. Her kits would be waking soon, and she watched them as they slept peacefully, close together for warmth. They'd be apprentices before she knew it.

"Ivybrook?" Honeytongue's voice was barely a whisper as she poked her head into the nursery, scanning the darken den until she spotted the curled figure of the deputy. At the sight of her, she felt her heart sank. She couldn't begin to understand the heartbreak that she had been through, she had been devastated when she had heard the news of so many of the deputy's little being born dead - the birth happening so suddenly that Mistlepaw hadn't even been present toward it.

She had tried her best to be there for her mentor, to make time to see her between balancing the training of Brindlepaw and the duties she held as a warrior but... She was fearing for all of her attempts, nothing was going to raise her spirits and that hurt. The yellow warrior hated it, all her attempts to see the beloved smile of Ivybrook seemed to always fail and desperate and guilt dug into her heart. She had never wanted this to happen again - to see a Clanmate so depressed that she was unable to help, not after the death of Jaystar but...Here she was.

Honeytongue took in a deep breath as she pulled out of the den just enough to pick up the fish she had brought with her - gently taking it into her jaws before she pushed into the nursery. "I brought you a fish," she purred lightly, doing her best to mask the pain she felt at how...Empty, Ivybook had been since the birth of her kits. It should have been a time of celebration for the new lives in RiverClan and yet... "How are they doing?" she murmured, her voice slightly muffled as she paused to stare at the stirring bodies of the two kits.

If she’d known, she might have stayed. She might have been there to fetch Mistlepaw or to help clean off the newborn kits’ barely-there fur. At the very least, she might have been there in time to give encouragement or consolations. But it had seemed like a normal day, and so, as she often did on normal days, Mudfrost had gone out on a long solo patrol. She’d come back to eerie silence. Seeing Ivybrook alive had put an end to the knots in her stomach, and then…

These things happened. That had been impressed upon Mudfrost during her own nursery days. But there was nothing just or good about five dead kits, especially kits that had caused Ivybrook so much trouble, kits that Ivybrook could have been happy to call hers. The practical part of Mudfrost focused on Shellkit and Smokekit, both alive, well, and hurtling toward apprenticeship. She never said as much. Practicality and comfort rarely went paw-in-paw. The problem was that, though she drifted in and out of the nursery every few sunups, offering freshly-caught prey to Ivybrook and the kits, Mudfrost found herself every bit as powerless as Mudpaw had been.

Still. When she spotted Honeytongue padding in the nursery’s direction, Mudfrost felt compelled to follow. She poked her head into the den a few moments after her friend, keeping the rest of herself on the main camp's side of the threshold. ”At least you’re awake,” she said lightly, with a brief tip of her head in the kits' direction. It was easier to look at them than at Ivybrook's worn, blank eyes, but to put it bluntly, Mudfrost hadn't come here for them. Searching for anything at all to say, she watched the silver tabby for a moment. ”…They're so big now, I can almost imagine them hunting things.”

Life seemed to love giving surprises, as it was full of the unexpected. What a pity that it had the cruellest sense of humor at times. When Torrentstar had first appointed Ivybrook as his deputy, he had never thought that she would become a mother. That in itself had been an all right surprise; he knew how feelings worked, after all. He was a father himself. But when he had learned that she was pregnant, he had never thought that five of the seven kits would be stillborn. The incident was two parts joy, and five parts utter devastation. He did not understand what it was like to bring kits into the world, but it was clear to all who had half an eye that Ivybrook was devastated. Even the usually distant leader could not bring himself to turn a blind eye to her grief. Unlike his daughter Honeytongue, he did not have the gift of comfort. It was rather foolish to think that he could heal anyone's heart, when all he seemed to be good at doing was hurting others. Even so, he felt guilty about not doing anything--his heart was pricked. He did not dislike Ivybrook; after all, he had chosen her to be his deputy, his right paw. He had to do something, anything. That morning, he found himself lingering at the entrance of the Nursery. To make up for his lack of words, he had come with a fish-shaped offering. The thought of bringing flowers had briefly occurred to him, but he had dismissed it. What good were herbs that would wither up? In contrast, Ivybrook needed something to fill her stomach and give her strength to fight the heartbreak. When he stepped inside, however, the leader was surprised to see two cats already by the queen's side. It seemed Honeytongue and Mudfrost had already beaten him to visiting Ivybrook that morning. Realizing that the fish was now unnecessary, he had left it by another nest with a murmur of greeting to its inhabitants. That done, he then stepped over to his deputy. "How are you feeling today, Ivybrook?" He asked slowly, once he had made eye contact with the other two cats in turn. He was careful to keep his voice its usual neutral tone, tinged only with the gravity the situation required. No unnecessary emotion was to slip into his words.

OOC: bolded speech because mobile post c;

Her gaze turned when the usually cheerful voice of her former apprentice piped up from the entrance of the nursery. As the yellow she-cat made her way closer to Ivybrook's side, her tail curled around the two kits instinctively. She knew Honeytongue would do no harm to the little ones, but the action was more of a reflex than anything- something she just couldn't help. Nodding gratefully, she looked up to Honeytongue. "Thank you." She said simply, tilting her head to see Mudfrost just behind her. "Sleep isn't the easiest thing to come by, I suppose," She said blankly in response to Mudfrost's comment. "they're nearly six moons now, so you won't be imagining it for long." The silver deputy had to hold back a sigh when the shadow of yet another cat darkened the nursery- But thank goodness, this time it was Torrentstar. She'd been hoping to hear about something that may have happened on a patrol, or perhaps there was news from another Clan... But unfortunately for her, that wasn't the case. "I'm feeling much better, now." She responded, managing a nod in his direction.

"At least once they are apprentices, you can go back to your duties," Honeytongue pipped up as she sat down, making sure to give the queen some space as the nursery was growing rather crowded as both Mudfrost and Torrentstar had apparently followed her in. She was certain that it had to be hard for Ivybrook - not only did she have to deal with the loss of most of her litter, she was stuck in the camp where nothing could take her mind off of it. But at least once the kits were apprentices, Ivybrook would be able to go back to patrolling...And perhaps that would help ease the grief that the she-cat was feeling. She paused, sparing a glance toward her companions, wondering if they had any words that could help raise the deputy's spirit.