Our Great Longing {closed}

The kit in Pinefrost's maw smelled of Rainstrike. She was soft, her fur tickling his nose as the warrior ducked under the undergrowth. Badger let little mews fall from her maw, each sound ripping the strings from Pinefrost's heart. The bundle of fur between his jaws was so small, so fragile. He talked to her gently as he leapt over a fallen tree. In a muffled voice, Pinefrost whispered his plan. "It's okay, scrap. You're mine now. The forest'll never know you're Rainstrike's. I'll make sure of it..." The warrior shut his eyes and watched as Rainstrike's scarred face haunted the back of his eyelids. Her single blue eye stared through the darkness, and Pinefrost longed for her greatness. He wanted to be adored, famed, and maybe even feared. The tom delved deeper into the night, towards ThunderClan's camp. He held a piece of Rainstrike now, the kit between his jaws. Maybe even being in her kin's proximity could teach Pinefrost to ascend to greatness. Maybe this very act would make his life more notable than the mundane.

He'd find Thrushnose at camp, tell her of his ploy. If anyone were to understand the warrior's great longing, it would be her. His best of friends, hailing from kithood to present day. There was a strange amount of emotion caught in Pinefrost's throat as he crested a large hill, gazing downward into the gloomy forest. He felt lonely for the kit in his maw. Badger, as Rainstrike had called her. It wouldn't be right to pass the little scrap off to a queen, no. Pinefrost felt intertwined with the youngling, as if Rainstrike had sealed them together before she left. This body this soul was Pinefrost's last shard of her. And Pinefrost was Badger's last hope. He arrived at camp, ribs feeling tight, shoulders weary. There was a back entrance into the warrior's den, one the tom knew well. He'd sneaked out this way many a time to partake in younger warrior games, talking through the night like their own mini-gathering. Pinefrost set Badger outside and apologized, whispering that he'd come back soon. Between the bows of an oak, nested amongst the bramble den, was Thrushnose. "Thrush. Wake up fuzz-head. I've... well I've really done something absolutely mad this time. Come on, I'll show you." The duo squeezed through the gap in the undergrowth wall, emerging onto Badger, curled shivering on a leaf. "This is Badgerkit... Rainstrike's... daughter." Stars, what had he done?

When sleep came after what felt like a moon of waiting, it was anything but restful. Frost-white paws and a fiery tail loped through the trees ahead, on the verge of slipping out of view; a pair of dogs and Rainstrike, too close to tell the difference between them, nipped at her heels. A voice woke her mid-stride. Her paws gave a final, violent twitch as her eyes leapt open. Taking a breath so deep it made her lungs ache, Thrushnose blinked into the darkness of the warriors’ den, which looked almost exactly as it had when she’d closed her eyes. No sisters to chase, no beasts to run from; only Pinefrost, his expression unfamiliar and indecipherable. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d woken her up in the middle of the night (or the other way around); there was no better time for mischief, especially now that both of them had apprentices to train during daylight. But something in her friend’s voice told her this was bigger than sneaking spiders into nests. “Lead the way,” she murmured, and followed him into the night.

They stopped at a broad-but-otherwise-unremarkable leaf, dry from the drought and the cooling weather. Atop it rested a trembling lump, curled up like a woodlouse—though it was definitely too big to be a woodlouse. Thrushnose leaned closer and promptly realized what she was looking at: a scruffy ball of pale, mottled fur. A kit! Eyes as round as the moon, she whipped around to stare at Pinefrost. Only the awareness of how close they were to the warriors’ den kept her quiet.

A billion thoughts, running the gamut from surprise to complete and utter bewilderment, tumbled through her head. Still biting her tongue, she leaned down to sniff the shivering kitten until one whispered question managed to claw its way above the others. “You’re sure she’s Rainstrike’s?” Thrushnose had committed Rainstrike’s scent to memory the day she’d been exiled. It hung around the kit, mixed with damp forest and milk. She took a step back. Her head hadn’t stopped whirling, but it had gotten less frantic, letting her sort out what mattered and what didn’t. “Why did you bring her—wait. If she’s Rainstrike’s—” She stopped, her face wrinkling into a thoughtful frown. “If she’s Rainstrike’s, why do you have her?” None of the explanations she could think of were good. But Pinefrost had a gift for making sense of the nonsensical; more importantly, he had her trust. Therefore, there was a reason for this, however outlandish it might be. It was just a matter of letting him explain it. Her gaze shifted back to him, searching.

The rapid thumping in Pinefrost's chest slowed as his friend gazed at him, her tone questioning but not accusatory. Thrushnose was a different breed of cat entirely, willing to follow Pinefrost out into the cold to gaze upon some kit that wasn't his. Her bedraggled fur was endearing, and seemed to ease the warrior's apprehension about his newest escapade. The tom stood for so long staring that he had to physically remind himself to close his jaw. Stars, he had been out of it lately, but was ever grateful for his steadfast friend. "Rainstrike... gave her to me." Pinefrost paused for effect but realized the tactic wasn't getting him anywhere. "You see, well... Rainstrike's kinda taken a liking to me? I meant her out on the territory, what a daft fool I was. Guess I sympathized with her. I still do, she's like us, but different. Instead of spiders and beetles in nests, she just... well... kills. Stars it sounds so mousebrained now that I say it out loud."

Pinefrost looked up from the kit to Thrushnose for encouragement, feeling rather put out. Badgerkit was cold, curling on her leaf. Pinefrost felt utterly lost, having never taken care of a kitten before, let alone contemplated owning one. He sighed, tail flicking to and fro in the wind. "The thing is though... ThunderClan's gonna hate this scrap once they find out she's Rainstrike's. I don't want her to grow up like that. And I don't wanna toss her off to some queen, I feel like that'd make me a bad father. Not that I- I'm not- I don't wanna be--- Foxdung." Pinefrost took a deep breath and kneaded the ground. "I'm not a dad, obviously. I just... I wanna take care of her, y'know? I feel like I brought this on myself with Rainstrike and being in contact and all and-- If you ever tell the warrior's den I ramble like this I'll eat your ears, I swear." Pinefrost looked up into Thrushnose's eyes and felt better. He began to chuckle, unaware of why. The warrior placed a paw over his mouth to muffle the noise, but his eyes watered with amusement instead. "I've really... hahaha... I've really gotten myself into it now haven't I? Oh Thrush... hahah... what a mess we are."

She waited one moment, then two, then a pawful more as Pinefrost stared, at a loss for words for what may have been the first time in Thrushnose’s memory. When the explanation came, it was both as strange and as reasonable as she could’ve expected. Whether it was the late hour, or Hickorypaw’s absence, or the fact that Rainstrike was easier to condemn than anyone Thrushnose had ever known, she felt anger stir low in her stomach, a fox raising its head at the scent of a cat who’d wandered too close to its den. First Minkstream, Oakheart, the calico tom, Ferretnose; now her own kit, and possibly Pinefrost as well. How many cats would Rainstrike try to pull down with her?

Pinefrost was looking at her. Looking for her. Pushing her anger down—none of it was meant for him, anyway—she nodded to indicate she was listening. Normally his ideas came out mostly-formed, but this… He sounded like his head was spinning even more than hers. As he went on, laughter crept into his voice. “What a mess we are.”

We. A single word, no more meaningful or meaningless than the ones surrounding it. Thrushnose latched on anyway. She thought of Ferretnose dragging herself into camp, half-dead, pelt plastered to her skin with river water. She thought of the contempt in her parents’ voices, voices she’d grown up loving. She thought of Vixenpaw (one of this kit’s denmates, someday) spitting venom from her place near the medicine den. Rainstrike deserved every scratch, every syllable; Badgerkit didn’t. In the back of her mind, the barest scraps of a plan tangled themselves together. It was completely, utterly hare-brained. Hare-brained enough to be from Pinefrost—and maybe, she thought, hare-brained enough for Pinefrost.

“Good thing I like my ears,” she said, poking her best friend’s shoulder with her nose. As she leaned back (careful not to trample the kit, of course), she took a deep breath, steeling herself. “…You know, you don’t have to do this alone. I’ll…take Badgerkit to the nursery. Watch her. Take care of her with you. As long as I have a say, they’ll never know she’s Rainstrike’s.” Of course, she’d have to find someone to cover Darkpaw’s training—some way to hide this from her parents, her siblings, her former mentor— Thrushnose glanced down at Badgerkit once more. She really was just a scrap of fur. “I probably know as much about kits as you do, but…if we work together, it’ll work out.” A smile, not altogether steady but rooted in resolve as deep as the Great Oaks themselves, rose to the tabby’s face. “Doesn’t it always?”

The journey from There, to Here, was one that Badger would not remember. She did not know where There was, or where Here was, only that she had gotten from one place to the other with the aid of her mother, the lifegiver, the only scent aside from her siblings that she'd ever known. They had mostly Gone, within the past few sleeps, and now Badger was Going, too, only she didn't know why.

Time passed, and the only difference she knew was warmth and cold, warmth and cold, something that seemed to change rapidly and with little warning. Finally, there was another scent, more vibrations, and then, mother was Gone, too.

The scent that flooded her nostrils now was a different one. It smelled of different cats. Many cats. But something buried deep within the tiny kit's psyche, within her very genetic makeup, it smelled Right. It smelled like home. So Badger didn't struggle as Pinefrost bore her across the territory. She didn't squeal or thrash as she might have otherwise. And she didn't complain as she was placed upon the cold ground, because something told her that right now, quiet was best. She just shivered in place, the warmth from her new guardian now suddenly gone.

As the vibration of pawsteps returned, Badger shivered harder, half in fear, half in cold. But Pinefrost's scent, and a new one along with it, was enough to quell her worries. She lay there, and suddenly, the darkness was not so dark anymore. It was but a thin, uneven line, in the middle of one eye... but there was Something There. Badger mewled, her head clumsily raising to try and center her newfound vision, however though it wasn't pitch black anymore, it was still dark, and all she could make out was a blurred, tawny shape.

Exhausted by the effort, the kit let her head drop unceremoniously back to the ground, and curled in on herself. She was tired, and cold, and all this newness was incredibly taxing.