The quick and the dead

When she was a warrior, she thought nothing about what happened after death. Live, die, StarClan. Seemed like a linear process, no fuss or frills. Live, die, StarClan.

What Mintheart didn't realize, though, was that every cat had to go somewhere after death. What made a cat themselves went to StarClan, sure... but the bones and fur were left behind. And the bones and fur had to be put somewhere. Otherwise the moors would be surrounded with pointy half-eroded rib cages of cats long gone, like gnarled gorse in leafbare.

When she became an elder, this became how she served WindClan. She had proven herself out of practice with hunting, of course with her granddaughter watching. It had been seasons since Mintheart fought for WindClan. And besides Lynxkit, she had been out of the nursery for seasons too.

Today's burial was sad, most of them were. It was one thing to have a cat who lived a long, good life to be laid to rest, but another entirely for the young. From what Mintheart understood, Graybreeze had a kit recently and got sick, just never got better.

Normally, once the body had been under vigil, they went to bury it unaccompanied. Cats found death uncomfortable, and once they had said their parting words, they wanted to grieve alone. They didn't want to think about it anymore. Live, die, StarClan.

And yet, there was an oddity of a kit still there when Mintheart came to get the body.

"Hey there darlin', we here ta get 'er. We's gonna take good care o' her, don't ya worry."

Mintheart approached Graybreeze's body, trying to get underneath her. "StarClan, my bones ain't right fo' this, why Stumpytoad gotta be so short and Moorbite so old...?" She meowed, "Love ya, honey," in case Moorbite was behind her. Rolling her eyes, she squished herself below Graybreeze, flattening herself. "Stars n' whiskers, I gots ta lay off the rabbit..."

After two failed attempts, she successfully scooped the fallen queen on her back. And yet, this kit still lingered.

"Youse comin' wit' us? You know we gonna put 'er in the dirt, right?"

Mintheart blinked, looking at Birchkit.

"Like, in the dirt. The. Dirt. Where yo' paws is. In uh hole."

The small thing still stayed.

"Well I'll be, youse uh different kind o' cat. C'mon, darlin', we gonna find yo' momma sum good dirt. WindClan gots lots o' dirt, lots ta pick from. We gonna go like we goin' ta Highstones, not that far though."

Mintheart flicked her tail, trying to get her compadres to follow her. Hopefully they wouldn't be wandering the moor with a kit for too long.

"Whereva' ya want 'er, there's flowers n' holes n' all kinds o' things. Let me know when ya find where ya wan' 'er."

Moorbite huffed at his mate's remark. "You're the same age as me, don't you forget. But love yah too." He grunted, before leaning down to shoulder the burden of the deceased queen with his aching bones. He waited for Mintheart to start walking, blinking at the kit. Speaking to kits was never his forte, and with acknowledgement of the seriousness of the situation, Moorbite held his tongue.

"Good spot, we'll git her ready n' in there."

Mintheart lowered Graybreeze's body to the ground. With her paws, she kicked up mounds of dirt and pushed out some rocks. The elder would have preferred soft ground, but her mom didn't die yesterday, so she tried to keep that thought to herself.

Besides, it was a nice area. And even though she found it odd that a kit that young wanted to see their mom in the dirt, she wasn't going to argue with them.

"It's so hot," she muttered as she kept digging. "Hotter than Thunderpath."

She was hoping that the hole was done. "We gots ta make sure this hole deep enough, I don't wanna have no baby's last time they see they mama with uh paw hangin' out the dirt," she tried to say to Moorbite alone but was probably a little louder than she wanted.

Moorbite stretched from his hunched position of patting down the dirt and turned to the kit. "They go to StarClan, kit." Though his voice was his usual gruff, it was softer than normal. He had burried a-many in his time, and it wouldn't be his last. He glanced to Mintheart. He hoped he died before her, for, he wouldn't last long without her.  "They frolic for all of eternity in a-bloomin medo', hunting an' guidin' us down here." He huffed. "They think they smarter since they die, but between you an me? There ain't no difference between up there and down there. I'm sure you'll see 'er up in yer Moonstone one day, kit." He glanced over to Mintheart, she was always an excellent mother to their kits. She couldn't be too rusty.

Mintheart looked at her mate lovingly. She was blessed, truly, to have so many seasons with him. Cats had lived, been born, and died while they were together. It was something she was thankful for everyday.

“Wut’cho mean, like her body or the rest o’ her?”

Mintheart smiled at Birchkit’s offering. “I’m sho she’ll like that, I know I would. It’s nice.”

She looked down at the grave. The finality of it all was the most jarring thing she remembered when she first became an elder.

“Well… the rest o’ her’s in StarClan. She prolly is meetin’ back wit’ her momma n’ the rest o’em.”

“Now, fo’ the body? Well, I ain’t neva watched no body, but I knows there’s always greener grass. Yo’ momma’s prolly part o’ the dirt, makin’ it betta fo’ flowers n’ stuff. Sum stuff may still be down there, buts yo’ momma joins the moor, like we all do.”