Honeyed Words and Harsh Reality

Honeykit wasn't a young kit anymore. She wasn't unable to speak or walk around on her own. The kit could stomach food, but... she couldn't hunt. She couldn't fight. Even with her progress towards the six moon mark where her mother promised a 'special surprise,' she was still rather useless. Even so, none of that stopped her from dreaming of the day they'd step onto the moors she'd only heard of in stories. Onto Clan land.

Throughout her short life, Rookpaw, her mother, told her tales of the place she'd been raised in until twolegs stole her away. The former Clan cat even named her Honeykit, after the traditions of the Clans. As the stories unfurled, it slowly became clear what Rookpaw's litter and Rookpaw herself wanted: to join WindClan. But the kits were small and travel was hard, especially after the loss of their father.

Now Honeykit stood over the broken and bloodied form of her mother, sobbing. "Mama, mama wake up... we're almost there! Please... I need you..."

Morningdove's awakening was a joyous occasion. However, she was not fit to run the moors as of now. Olivestar accompanied her now as she nosed the grasses along the Heather, searching for the herbs the Clan would need later on this coming leaf-bare. Her nose, however, picked up a more urgent scent.

Death.

"Olivestar," she hissed, pelt fluffed up, "Watch my back. I'm going to investigate." Softbreeze informed the WindClan leader, turning and padding delicately over to where the horrid scent of blood and death was coming from. What she saw shocked her.

"Hello, little one. I'm Softbreeze, do you have a name? Is this... Is this your momma?" She asked gently, coming up to the young she-kit. Her blue eyes sparkled earnestly, gently rounded in sympathy. Her own mother was also dead.

With the turning of the seasons and the cool winds of leaf-fall riding in on greenleaf's coattails, Olivestar had been wandering the moors with Softbreeze in search of herbs to replenish the medicine cat's stores. The two she-cats had been walking and searching in comfortable silence, the wordless space between them only broken by the sounds of the wind through the grass, the occasional crunch of a leaf underpaw that had been carried there from the dense forests by the wind, and the... small sobs of a little voice. The leader looked over at Softbreeze right as the medicine cat spoke to her, asking for her to keep an eye on the rear, and with a nod, followed the other she-cat over the ridge, the scene of a small kit trying to rouse a much larger she-cat.

The scent of death rose to meet her, and she resisted the rise of her hackles, and instead, padded closer to the kit, taking in the scene before them. Softbreeze was already speaking to the kit, asking gentle questions, so the leader just sat, keeping an eye on the environment around them, offering the kit a reassuring smile, one that said, You're safe here.

One thing that Olivestar noticed was the age of the kit. Not too young, but not apprentice-aged either. Surely the kit could give some insight into what had happened to her and her mother, though she figured she'd give the kit a chance to answer the medicine cats' questions before bombarding her with her own.

Zinnia had been wandering the moor on what was, ostensibly, a hunting patrol; but the scent of her mate caught her off guard, as did the death that accompanied it. Swiftly making her way to its source, she saw Softbreeze and Olivestar - both, thankfully, unharmed - though the same couldn't be said for the body next to them, one she didn't recognize.

"Olivestar, I-" she began, not bothering to hide her worry, and then fell silent as she saw something she hadn't been able to make out from a distance.

The last and perhaps most important piece of the puzzle laid before her was the kit, not quite yet apprentice-aged, next to what must have been its mother. She spoke soft and low, a whisper to the other two elder cats. "Oh... Oh, no... What happened? Is the little one alright?"

The kit's nose could probably pick up traces of other cats who smelled of rabbits and grass, but it was so overshadowed by the blood and puss oozing from Rookpaw's body that she didn't know anyone was coming until they were right on top of her. All she could do was whimper into the spotted cat's side, as she was sure those rogues from before were coming back to finish them off.

When she heard a gentle voice and an unusual name, she looked up, wide-eyed. "I-I'm Honeykit. Are you a warrior? M-my momma was a wild cat too. She said she was from the best Clan-- WindClan," she mumbled, suddenly shier and smaller than she had ever been before.

Her eyes scanned the others who padded up as well.

"She said she didn't get her warrior name, but she wanted to come home and... and get it someday."

At the kit's questions, Softbreeze's eyes widened in shock. "How do you...?" She trailed off in horror as the kit finished her tale. So her mother was trying to come home. She'd died, so so close. "I'm a medicine cat," she whispered, breathless as she stared at this strange bundle at her feet, "The Medicine cat of WindClan. That's Olivestar, our leader, and the cat beside her is Zinnia, one of our warriors." As she introduced the other she-cats, she nodded at them, eyes meeting Olive's green ones briefly.

"You.... Want to be a warrior someday, right? Come home with us. You'll be cared for, and we'll bury your momma, too. A warrior deserves a proper burial and vigil, right, Olivestar?" She looked over the pair almost regretfully. She couldn't carry Honeykit's mother's body; the cat itself was almost as big as Softbreeze was, and the molly didn't want to add more injury to the she-cat's corpse. That would be disrespectful, as would leaving it here to rot. "You'll grow up to be an amazing warrior, I'm sure. You'll make your mother proud." Softbreeze whispered softly, leaning down to touch noses with the golden colored kit.

As the kit told her story, the fact that she had a Clan name already piqued Olivestar's interest, and her internal question was answered as Honeykit explained that her mother was a long-lost WindClan cat. She met Softbreeze's gaze and nodded in response to the question about burying the dead she-cat, and she spoke, warmth in her gaze and voice,
"Of course we can give her a proper warrior's burial, and of course we'll take you in. We could never turn away a kit in need, much less a kit of one of our own."

With that, she bent down to pick up the body of the former Clan cat, and began to lead the way back towards camp, careful to not damage the spotted cat's body more.