i had all and then most of you, some and now none of you [open to briarxblood fam]

Surrounded by ThunderClan guards and her single SkyClan protector, Briarthorn padded slowly into Fourtrees, paws and whiskers tingling with a mixture if excitement and anxiety. Bloodstar and Minkstar had both agreed to let her see her family throughout her time in ThunderClan, and a patrol to meet up had finally been organized. Thrushnose and Waterlily were her designated guards from ThunderClan, and while they didn’t seem to be openly hostile, Briarthorn certainly could tell they weren’t happy about her presence. She couldn’t blame them, but it was beginning to take a toll on her. She was ready to see her family again… She dearly hoped that would help her situation.

When they finally arrived in the center of the clearing, Briarthorn sat and waited patiently, eyes scanning the thick of trees near SkyClan’s side of the forest. She was hoping Bloodstar would at least make an appearance, and her kits as well, if she was lucky.

Though the cold had stripped most of ThunderClan’s trees of their leaves, their chunk of forest proved to be as much a maze as ever. Thrushnose guided her patrolmates through the tangle of trunks, branches, and snow. She had chosen to lead purely to avoid any attempts at conversation, not that she’d needed to worry. The cat she least wanted to talk to hadn’t said much at all. Briarthorn’s explanation may have swayed some ThunderClanners, but Thrushnose remained unmoved. It was a stranger’s word against memories of a dead cat, someone she would have called a friend if she’d had more time. How could she think any differently?

At last, they broke through the bushes. Matching Briarthorn’s stride until they reached the clearing’s center, Thrushnose paused, still standing, to survey the Great Oaks’ sprawling branches. She understood why her father had sent only her and Waterlily—any more than two warriors could be taken as a threat—but it made her uneasy. Even before SkyClan’s arrival, they were outnumbered. But Briarthorn had been strangely placid so far; hopefully her companion, Pheasantsun (was that it? His name was so distinctive, Thrushnose had to remember at least part of it), would follow suit.

Newtspring was first of the family to arrive. He slipped out before his father or his sisters could gather him to go– a part of him felt bad for leaving Spottedfrog and Bearflower to walk with just each other, or with Bloodstar, but the other part of him... Shaking himself out, he pushed on, striding through the snow. He'd never particularly cared for either of his parents when he was still younger... even now, he couldn't say he wasn't at least a little bitter. But that didn't change the fact that Briarthorn was his mother, and that she'd been shipped off to a different Clan. A part of him half expected to jog into the clearing just to be greeted by her pelt. Wolfstar's words about Briarthorn carrying kits echoed in the back of his mind as Newtspring pushed on.

Starlingflare floated through his thoughts, too. Newtspring wondered how he'd been doing– how he'd been handling the whole situation. Starlingflare was his friend, but he hadn't been quiet about his distaste for Briarthorn. That's fair. She did take a cat's life, he reminded himself. Some half-hearted attempt to self-soothe. To remember– or finally convince himself –that this was worth it. His tail flicked through the snow, and he let out a deep huff just to watch his breath billow in front of him.

As he rose to meet the top of the ridge, he was relieved to see that there was no lifeless pelt waiting for him there. Instead, it looked like two cats had arrived so far: a ThunderClan cat he might've recognized from the base of the Great Rock, and his mother. Taking a breath, Newtspring steadily began his descent, battling off the sudden kit-like urge to race down the slope and rush straight into her chest-fur. He took his steps agonizingly slow, even as the ground leveled out and he drew nearer to the pair. He gave Thrushnose a cold, bitter look, then settled at Briarthorn's side. If he wasn't going to let himself all but crawl under her, he would at least allow himself to sit close to her, to bend his neck to press his head against her shoulder. "Sorry," Newtspring whispered first, genuine apology in his mew. Then, lifting his head– and his voice –he went on: "'M happy t'see you. You been doin' okay? ThunderClan ain't too bad, right?"