It gets better in such small doses [c]

Some days the emotions inside of Perchstar ran rampant no matter what she did, completely out of her control to wrangle, and it was the best she could do to pretend they didn't exist. Some days they were deceptively quiet and only emerged when she least expected it. Some other days, they were just... tired. As tired as she was. Those numb, silent days were the easiest. Those days, she could simply move through her duties like a competent shadow, allowing the neutral mask to completely become her and subsume any sorrow or loathing that waited in the wings. Today was one of those days--or at least, it had been up until now. The leader allowed herself a brief moment of respite from her duties, sitting in camp and soaking up the few rays of newleaf sun that emerged golden from the sky, though it wasn't with as much bone-tired exhaustion as usual. Just... tired. A normal, dull kind of tired. She didn't feel content or happy. She felt nothing, and days like this were far easier than the rest. Unfortunately rare, but she welcomed them when they came. For just a moment, she closed her eyes, allowing herself to slip away in the brief lack of cares.

But it only took a moment for an interruption to surface... with a voice she couldn't recall hearing speak clearly in quite a while.

“Mama, are you free? Can we eat together?”

Perchstar turned at the unexpected voice, her eyes widened at the she-cat before her. A face that she would never forget; one that lingered in her thoughts even on days as numb as this. Her daughter Wrenpaw. How long had it been since they'd spoken? She'd checked up on her periodically, whenever she could, but the sick she-cat had often spoken in a cough-thick tone, if at all. More often than not she had simply been in a restless sleep of recovery. But for Wrenpaw to feel well enough to be up and about, even well enough to speak with eyes so unclouded by illness.... The numbness fell away. It had been nice while it lasted, but not even the strongest apathy could best the flood of sudden, uncontested love that burst through Perchstar's fragile heart. "Yes, of course. I always have time for you." Though as ever her face remained unsmiling, the characteristic gentleness with which she spoke to her daughters softened the lines around her eyes slightly. She hadn't eaten yet--now was as good a time as any. She just had to ignore how allowing herself to feel love suddenly reopened the many wounds on her heart. Once it had been forced to beat, she suddenly had to feel the pain again. Just ignore it; that was what she always had to do. "I am glad that you are feeling better again. I have been worried about you."

There could be no hope of emotionlessness; not in the face of such pure love and care as came from Wrenpaw. Perchstar's youngest daughter. The one who'd always seemed freest from the constraints of being the leader's daughter, of being her daughter--the daughter of one whose feelings shackled her between the desire to appear statue-like and the inability to perform her duties otherwise. Even through the sicknesses, through Sandyshell's death, through all the hardships, Wrenpaw remained as steadfast in her loyalty as she did in her unshakable spirit. Even now, the way she puffed out her chest was irresistibly reminiscent of Felix, which did not help the persistent aching already reawakened within her heart. She ignored the sensation and focused instead on the warmth emanating from Wrenpaw's closeness.

Perchstar shook her head slightly, but the gesture held only fondness. "Is it not the job of a mother to worry for her kits?" It no longer felt quite so odd to apply that moniker to herself. She'd grown... used to it, she supposed. "But I do not worry overmuch. I know that you and your sisters are very strong." It was true. Though she loved her daughters and they were on her mind constantly, she did not underestimate their strength. They were far more capable than her, in many respects. Briefly Perchstar pressed her nose to her daughter's forehead. The kindness, the concern... it was something that Wrenpaw shared with her older sisters, Willowwisp and Mistwalker. Though they all showed it in different ways, they had all spoken with her in some manner about her recent indisposition. Even if she'd been able to hide it from her other Clanmates--which she had not, unfortunately--her daughters would have seen through her. And so they did. It was difficult to swallow the mixture of affection and bitterness--affection towards Wrenpaw and bitterness towards herself. Perhaps if she'd taken Felix up on his offer so very long ago... but, no matter. No point in crying over lost prey; and besides, she would make that same decision again. Or, she thought she would have. Would they have been... happier? Mistwalker would have, certainly, but the others? Stop it. She let out a quiet sigh. "I wish you did not have to worry about me. I wish I were as strong as you. It is a skill I have tried to master, but... with no luck, I fear. Sometimes the exhaustion of my position gets to me." The admission nearly slipped from her tongue, but she bit it back. There was little point in dredging it all up now. Her torn ear flicked once. She shouldn't tell her daughter not to worry, and then validate those worries in the same breath. "Though to ease your worries somewhat, I have been... improving," she said honestly. "It takes time. But to spend even a moment or two with you recovers my spirits drastically."