More Painful than Letting Go... is Holding On [Smokefeather]

Bloodstrike had taken a long time to make his way back to camp. He'd just finished speaking to Dawnhawk... and what an emotional roller-coaster that had been. The giant tabby came back with no new injuries at all, nor did any blood stain his claws or teeth. Dawnhawk had been outside of Skyclan territory near the river, so he hadn't disobeyed Wolfstar's orders to kill Dawnhawk on sight. Physical injuries would have been much easier to deal with than what he had come to the painful conclusion of what he needed to do. Bloodstrike had patrolled for... a very long time around Skyclan territory but avoided going anywhere near the river section of it. He needed time to think, to clear his head, to cry... and to think again. Now that he had finally returned to camp and having had no sleep (the sun was already peaking through the trees) he made his way to the warrior's den. His eyes landed on Smokefeather... and she didn't look like she had been sleeping long if at all. He opened his mouth to say something to her, but no words came out. His stomach was sick. His heart lurched in pain and even a brief jolt of panic shot through him. He took a deep, shaky breath to steel his resolve.

"S-smoke-" Bloodstrike's voice cut off as his emotions threatened to flood his eyes. They were already bloodshot from crying as much as he had. Beechface was likely going to be very unhappy with his all night patrolling and no sleep, but if she dared say anything to him right now, she'd get the yelling of her life. He regained his composure and spoke more clearly this time. "Smokefeather. Come with me just for a moment please..." He swallowed hard and his eyes stared blankly ahead as he waited for her.

I can't do this... I can't do this... I can't do this...

The sleeping she-cat jerked to her paws, rising halfway into a defensive crouch. Her gray-green eyes were blank and unseeing, open, but all she saw was the ghost image of two cats fighting in front of her rather than what was physically there.

It seemed so real.

A voice that shouldn't have been there snapped Smokefeather into awareness, and her head turned, frantically taking in her surroundings. The warriors' den, not the nursery. Dawnhawk and Beechface weren't fighting in front of her, though the scent of blood still clogged her nose, remnants of the nightmare. Featherkit-

Featherkit was gone. So was Mountainkit, she remembered.

Cats slept all around her, so Smokefeather was hopeful she hadn't cried out or woken anybody. Her breath came in ragged pants, her heart beat much faster than it normally would, and Smokefeather couldn't quite get her dull fur to lay flat. It took her much longer than it should have to focus on the dark shape in front of her By the time she'd managed it, Bloodstrike was speaking again, and she rose on shaky legs to follow him.

The sun had barely moved across the morning sky, and Smokefeather took a slow, shaky breath, struggling to get her racing heart under control. If she had been calmer, she would have worried about another lecture from Beechface. Her daughter wasn't happy with either of her parents, it seemed, and being up at this late (or early for the rest of the clan, she supposed) hour wasn't likely to make her any happier. At the moment Smokefeather couldn't find it within herself to care. She'd rather be awake, anyways. The dull-furred tortoiseshell shivered, gaze turning from the dark sky to Bloodstrike, still fighting to control her breathing.

Bloodshot eyes stared back at her. He'd been crying, she realized, and looked so utterly drained. That just sent another stab of pain through her chest. She doubted very much that he'd gotten any more 'sleep' than she had, if he'd even gone to his nest at all. Knowing him, she was comfortable doubting that had been the case. That alone was worrying, but something told him it wasn't just restlessness, and that only made her concern grow. She'd do anything to wipe that look off of his face.

Whatever this was, Beechface definitely wouldn't be happy about it, she thought. Smokefeather wasn't much happier with the medicine cat, either.

And that thought made her very much consider turning around and burying her face in her nest, cowardly as that would be. When she'd gotten back to camp with Copperfox and an injured Foxfire, she hadn't realized the medicine cat had told the truth of what had happened in the nursery. She'd sure realized it later, though Bloodstrike hadn't been the one to bring it up. Something bitter coated the back of her throat as she went to speak, and Smokefeather snapped her mouth shut. There wasn't anything left in her stomach, but she didn't trust herself to speak, didn't trust herself to break the silence first.

Her reaction to waking up made his heart lurch in sympathy for her. Another part of him blamed himself for all of this. If only he hadn't charged forward like an idiot and gotten himself taken as prisoner he could have been there for her. He could have stopped Dawnhawk. He was sure of it. Now they were both a mess. Too broken to fix. He sighed and walked away from the camp where no one else would hear their words. He didn't want to do this, but he didn't know how he could continue on knowing what she had done as well. Once they were further away from camp and he was sure no one was nearby, Bloodstrike drew a deep breath to steady his voice and he turned to face her.

"Smokefeather... I ran into Dawnhawk last night by the river." He found it difficult to look her in the eye right now, but she at least deserved to be looked at while he talked. "I told him to stay away from Skyclan territory, but we talked for a little while. He admitted everything that... happened. He also... gave me information that Beechface did not." His jaw clenched and his body tensed. She had already suffered so much... should he even go through with this right now? But the colder, more logical side of him said yes. To knock her down with his decision after she started feeling better would be even worse than just getting everything out now. Right?

"I still care about you, I still love our kits, I will help protect and provide as I always have... but I think... I think we're..." How could he even say it? He couldn't take it anymore and his eyes dropped to her feet. Sadness overwhelmed him and his eyes watered again.

"Why did you say those things to him? He's always been difficult and I know that has warranted a lot of yelling and nearly constant discipline... but Smokefeather did you mean what you said?" Bloodstrike looked back up at her. Maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe she was emotionally volatile at the time... But Bloodstrike knew deep down that was no excuse. Saying those things to your own kit was not forgivable.

He went silent, unable to continue for now. It was as if he hoped she would say something to make things different. To make this all make sense. Or even deny it entirely... but even that wouldn't work. Dawnhawk had provided some level of believability by knowing about the monster fight on the thunderpath, though he didn't know that was what it was at the time.

Smokefeather's shoulders tensed and she visibly flinched away as Dawnhawk's name was mentioned. Hearing it felt like he'd struck her physically.

No... Ashstorm had said he'd drowned, she wanted to believe her daughter, wanted to believe that he was gone. That Starclan had a shred of mercy left for them after all.

Of course they didn't. They never had.

"Beechface wasn't there for the start of it; she wouldn't have--" She wouldn't have heard the utter contempt in his voice as he'd questioned who had fathered the kits.

"I suppose he left out that the first thing he did was question whether my kits were yours? That he had the gall to ask for support for his rogues. Wanted me to convince the rest of the clan to fall in line, then the rogues would leave. He thought things were going smoothly, that the clan was in a better position after he--" Her throat felt tight, and Smokefeather faltered. Her paws trembled and she turned to pace, hoping the movement would quell her rising panic at the memories, maybe even help conceal how badly her paws shook.

"He spent three moons threatening everyone into compliance and telling everyone who would listen that you being torn apart and dragged out of camp was for your own good- then Flowerthorn was dragged out of camp and it was for the good of the clan- and those were the first things he said to me." Smokefeather couldn't hide the bitter agony in her voice, she didn't have the strength to. Her head turned to face him, but tears blurred her vision. Maybe it was for the better that she not see whatever expression was on his face. She was disgusted enough with herself, she didn't need to see how much this was hurting him, too. Bloodstrike spoke again and she felt claws digging into her heart. Her breath hitched painfully.

"I snapped, I shouldn't have. Even Beechface was horrified by it- I couldn't-" Beechface, who was vitriolic and had never given a rat's tail about diplomacy no matter how much Smokefeather or Bloodstrike talked to her. Even now Smokefeather was still horrified, still utterly disgusted with herself.

Featherkit's blood was on her paws, even if she hadn't (and would never have) laid claws on her.

Bloodstrike listened to her talk and his ears airplaned out on either side of his head. He wasn't sure he could do this. He could hear the strain in her voice from being stressed out. She looked worse than he had ever seen her. Maybe he could do this later... maybe he just needed to think some more... maybe. Maybe. Maybe. You know what you have to do. Stop being a coward. Though that was easier said than done. Fighting a dog would have been much easier and far less confusing than all of this.

"I shouldn't have fought." He admitted, though it pained him to say it. "I was so determined to not be seen as a weakling like my grandfather that I was willing to put the whole clan in danger." He was more thinking out loud than anything at this point. The guilt was there though. He sighed loudly and hung his head. "Maybe Wolfstar should find a new deputy. I don't know that I'd be a good leader after all of this." All of this was his fault. He wasn't there to protect his family... not a single one of them. And they all suffered for it. He was beaten and he should have just accepted it. But no, he would rather let his body be torn to pieces than his pride... and this was the price of it all.

"I'm sorry Smokefeather." He swiped his tongue over his left fang as he thought. "I understand the pressure you were under and how stressful that must have been but... I'm shocked and hurt that you could say that to one of your own kits. And I... I'm angry and in pain all of the time now. Maybe we..." He sucked in a breath and forced himself to look her in the eye. "Maybe we aren't good for each other... right n- ... no. I'll end it there. I failed you. I know I did. Still it doesn't change the outcome... I don't want to hurt you anymore than you've been hurt." His stomach felt sick and his chest ached. Tears flooded his eyes and ran down his face... something that had happened so much lately that he was surprised he even had any tears left.

"I think we... we're done Smokefeather. I'm sorry. We have both changed for the worse and if we stay together I think it's only going to cause us more pain. We both need a root... someone more emotionally and mentally stable than the both of us in order to climb back out of the hole we're in..." Even as he said it he wasn't sure that it was making sense. He wanted to believe that he was. He was sleep deprived and so was she. They were stressed out and hurt and confused, trying to get a mental grip on any sort of reality or comfort... and he was afraid they would destroy eachother trying to use the other as a stable foothold. Neither of them were.

"You couldn't do much worse, I'm sure. I don't think there's anyone sane enough to lead this wreck of a clan." Smokefeather muttered somewhat caustically, a bitter, almost hollow laugh escaping her. "I don't think you not fighting would have made a difference, honestly. Dawnhawk convinced Wolfstar to name him deputy, he would've found another way to grab power regardless. They looked for any excuse to attack someone or drag someone off. One of them attacked Copperfox and he did nothing to provoke them." That one Dawnhawk had punished, but it hardly made a difference. The rogues had all been brutes, every last one of them happy to lord their power over Skyclan. With their numbers, one cat wouldn't have made a difference. Ten cats wouldn't have made a difference, even if they had all been skilled fighters.

"I can't forgive me, either. I wouldn't expect you to." As Bloodstrike spoke, Smokefeather's ears flattened against her skull.

"You've never wanted to hurt me... And yet you're pushing me away. Again." Gray-green eyes glared up at him through a haze of tears, a brief flash of confusion quickly being replaced by hurt. She wanted to be angry at him. After everything... "I care about you more than anyone, you know that. Stars know someone ought to, because it's obvious you don't care for yourself."

"It's fine... You're a sleep-deprived mess. Both us of are... I don't-" The way her voice cracked made Smokefeather want to bury her face in her nest in shame. She wanted to call him on his stubborn stupidity. For all the good that would likely do her.

"I don't have the energy to fight with you about this." She said finally. Maybe he was right, maybe they weren't good for each other. Either way, it was obvious that neither of them had a clear head to discuss this rationally.

"If that was it I- I'm going to go hunting." She needed to be alone for a bit, needed to think. Think... Or cry, where she didn't have to face the humiliation of him seeing. Smokefeather turned, but her steps faltered as she drew in a ragged breath. She couldn't stop herself from looking over her shoulder at him, but her throat felt too tight for her to speak.

This was killing him. Once he'd gotten the words out his eyes dropped again. He was quiet as she spoke, the guilt crushing him and making it hard to breathe. As she walked away and looked over her shoulder, he wanted so badly to chase after her. He almost did. His body lurched forward then stopped just as quickly. He didn't want to see her like that and not comfort her, but it would only make things harder. So... Bloodstrike clenched his jaw and turned away, moving in the opposite direction. He had a feeling he wouldn't be sleeping well for awhile. He didn't have the strength to go hunt. He wanted nothing more than to climb a tree and stay there. If a branch broke from under him and he fell... well, maybe the clan was better off for it.