Sorrowful Hearts

When Blossomstep had heard what happened, she had been horrified. A kit, murdered in the nursery, before it had even stepped outside for the first time. And at the paws of one of these so-called helpers of the clan. Her eyes narrowed at the memory of the tiny figure, barely a scrap of fur, unrecognizable. The limp body of the Asylum cat who had done the deed, and the blood-stained Dawnhawk who was heralded the hero. The situation seemed terribly familiar, but Blossomstep found she didn't care all that much about what Dawnhawk painted himself as. She didn't have the energy to fight anymore, but she would be sentenced to eternity in the Dark Forest before she gave in. Padding to the fresh kill pile, the older she-cat gathered a squirrel, mouse, and vole, picking them up carefully and carrying them towards the nursery with her head high. She knew what it was like to watch your kit beaten nearly to death, but Bloodstrike had been much older, stronger, not defenseless. Perhaps if he was still here, this never would have happened...

She entered the nursery slowly, with a soft and muffled greeting. Offering the squirrel to Foxfire, who had been left to care for his kits alone now that Flowerthorn had been taken in the same way Bloodstrike had. Placing her tail gently on the tom's shoulder in what was hopefully a reassuring gesture, she motioned for him to eat before turning her attention to Smokefeather. The she-cat had gone through so much in recent moons, between having her son turn on the clan to work with the rogues, and Bloodstrike being beaten and taken... He was her kit, but Smoekfeather's mate. Then to go through her pregnancy and kitting without her mate at her side, while going through the new daily routine... Blossomstep's heart had broken for the she-cat she considered another daughter long before. Carefully settling in next to the queen, mindful of where little Mountainkit was, she placed the vole and mouse in front of Smokefeather. "Take your pick, dear, I'll have the other. How can I help today?"

Smokefeather was half-curled around Mountainkit, towards the back of the nursery, head resting on her paws. Dull eyes stared blankly at the den wall, and the pale tortoiseshell's pelt was unusually unkempt, fur somewhat tangled and dull. The silvery kit at her side seemed to be in marginally better shape, at least, drowsing quietly with the occasional twitch of her large paws.

Dull, red-rimmed eyes turned towards Blossomstep as she sat beside Smokefeather, the barest hint of... something... breaking through her blank expression for the briefest moment at the sight of the older she-cat. It took a minute for her words to register, Smokefeather's gaze flicking towards the offered food and then away. Her stomach churned at the thought of eating. The scent of blood still clogged her nose, no matter how much the den had been cleaned or the days that had passed since...

Smokefeather shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Ineffective, of course.

"I'm not... I'll... See if Mountainkit will eat when she wakes." Hoarse and monotone, the voice that answered Blossomstep surprised even Smokefeather, though she didn't have the strength to dwell on that for more than a heartbeat. The fresh-kill was better spent on the kit, at this point. Mountainkit was growing, she needed it more. Or Beechface could've used it. The medicine cat could hardly stand after Dawnhawk-- No, the Asylum cat, Smokefeather mentally corrected herself-- had gotten through with her. So long as it wasn't for Smokefeather, it was okay.

Smokefeather merely shrugged in answer to Blossomstep's question. She wanted Featherkit back, she wanted Beechface uninjured and to take back everything she had said. Not that the latter could help the former two now, nor could anyone else. The question was hardly worth answering, at this point.

Smokefeather looked at her with tired, grief-filled eyes, and Blossomstep's heart twisted a little more. As she had expected, the she-cat declined the prey, and Blossomstep pushed it aside slightly. She would try to get the queen to eat again later, but for now... For now she would just be a companion. As Smokefeather shrugged in response, Blossomstep turned her head to begin grooming the other she-cat with gentle, rhythmic laps of her tongue. "I can help Mountainkit eat as well. For now, you rest along with her. I'll keep an eye on things." She mewed, resuming her careful grooming as she attempted to work out the knots and tangles in the queen's pelt. The voice that had come from Smokefeather was not one Blossomstep had ever heard, even after the betrayal and Bloodstrike's disappearance, but the emotion (or lack thereof) within the voice was all too familiar.

Smokefeather closed her eyes, letting out a shaky, uneven breath as Blossomstep spoke.

"Thank you." It was all she could manage, right now. She hardly felt Blossomstep grooming her, hardly felt her own tangled pelt. The state of her pelt would've made her grumble and complain, once, but right now she couldn't seem to remember why and wasn't sure she really cared. What was the point? Every time she closed her eyes, she saw images of Featherkit. Dawnhawk. Bloodstrike. Flowerthorn. Beechface, bloody and unconscious at Dawnhawk's paws. She couldn't sleep, couldn't think... The state of her pelt was trivial.

Even caring for Mountainkit was an effort, but one that Smokefeather forced herself to do. Going through the motions for her kit's sake. There was a part of her that wanted to snap at the offered help, say that she take care of her own kit just fine, but Smokefeather wasn't so far gone as to lie to herself. It would be too much effort. And... Mountainkit deserved better than that, at the very least. Blossomstep was probably better suited to the task of helping than Smokefeather was, at this point. All Smokefeather had managed to do was raise a kit-murdering traitor.

Without her noticing, Smokefeather's head drifted to rest on her paws once more, slightly turned to catch sight of both Blossomstep, though she couldn't find the strength to say anything else, for the moment.

"Of course, Smokefeather." The pair lay next to each other silently for a long while, Blossomstep gingerly working out the worst of the tangles in the other she-cat's pelt as she came across them. The queen had rested her head back on her paws, and Blossomstep simply continued her careful grooming. Her tail rested around both Mountainkit and Smokefeather, as if she was trying to hold them both close. It was true, Smokefeather may not have been her kit, but she had become like one over the moons. Blossomstep loved her as much as she did Bloodstrike, and Mountainkit and Featherkit. She paused to look down at the small head between them and sighed softly, gently nuzzling Mountainkit's head with her nose before looking back up to Smokefeather. "Smokefeather, I... I just want to say that I love you. You're not my kit, not my blood, but I love you like one of my own. I know things have been difficult, challenging, and downright terrifying recently, and I'm sorry. If I could stop it, please know that I would. I would take it all from you and all the others if I could... I'm proud of you, Smokefeather. I'm sorry things have gone so wrong."

Blossomstep was... Proud? Of her? If Smokefeather had had the energy, maybe she would've laughed at the thought of it. How could she possibly be proud of Smokefeather? She'd failed in her duties as a mate, as a parent. She'd raised a traitor, couldn't protect her own kits. She hadn't been there for Dustpaw, had been too slow and unaware to save Featherkit from her own brother. By the Dark Forest, her own actions had led to Featherkit's death.

"Blossomstep, I-" It was on Smokefeather's tongue, to just say it, and be done with this nightmare. Blossomstep would be furious if she knew what had really happened. At her, at Dawnhawk... Dawnhawk, who Smokefeather had no doubt would do exactly as he'd promised. Telling anyone was simply too great a risk. She couldn't put the rest of the clan in even more danger. Especially not Blossomstep, who had always treated her grandkits like they were her own. Who had almost certainly treated them better than Smokefeather ever had. She'd been motherly to them and to Smokefeather, both. She'd lost kits of her own, and still, the older queen cared for the rest of her family, her clan, like it was nothing. Smokefeather was dimly aware of the way her eyes stung, vision blurring. The tears had been seemingly endless, so she supposed it only made sense that they would continue, even now. Especially now, even.

Smokefeather's throat felt tight. Whatever words the other she-cat might've thought she had been intending to say dying like the last embers of the fire that had swept through the territory. She couldn't play with the life of another, refused to. Especially not Blossomstep's life.

No, she'd stay silent for Blossomstep's sake... For all of them. Her words would not cause death to anyone else.

The she-cat's ears twitched as she heard her name, and she looked up to meet Smokefeather's eyes in anticipation of what the queen was about to say. However, as she patiently waited, the end of the statement never came. Instead, tears formed in Smokefeather's eyes, and Blossomstep instinctively shifted closer, pressing herself reassuringly against the other she-cat. "Oh Smokefeather... I'm so sorry. For everything." Blossomstep placed her chin gently on Smokefeather's head. "I'll always be here, if you ever need to talk. I understand if you can't now, but whenever you're ready, I'll be there."