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she comforts them on moonlight stones when the world feels so heavy and when they awake from nightmares about the tabby with the wild amber eyes and the long scar distinguishing his nose. she is there to watch their warrior vigil. she is there as the forest falls to pieces around them, she is there as ferncloud tries to wake up the corpse of her dead son in vain.

she is there for ashfur when the molly in the russet coat rejects his advances. he stays up late nights. she can see a tiredness in his eyes, and his belly grows thin. you will find love again, she says. 

he does not listen. but she stays beside him, because no cat should ever have to be ripped from their mother’s paws far too early.

she had heard of that riverclan boy before ashfur started talking with him. he had aided that windclan cat’s rebellion, right? only to turn on him? or maybe she had only heard that from a friend of a friend of that cat who sent a lightning bolt down so the rebellion would stop. she worries as she watches them discuss, vibrancy in their matching blue eyes that is too close to her murderer’s eyes for comfort, and she is horrified to see firestar topple in front of her as blood seeps from his neck. she does not pay attention to hawkfrost’s death as she pleads to her son to think, to remember how loved he was, to remember that squirrelflight didn’t belong to him now and that she never did.

he does not listen. but she stays beside him, because no cat should ever have to be ripped from their mother’s paws far too early.

she watches her son mentor lionpaw. she had always felt fondness for lionpaw- she knew of his birth parents, but she can not help but see her old friend goldenflower in that yellow coat. she brims with anger as she sees her son order around the boy too much, and she is close to wanting to smack him upside the chin when she sees a scratch on the apprentice. you wouldn’t have wanted this. he’s arrogant and bold- he reminds me of a kit we both know, she tries to tell him.

he does not listen. but she stays beside him, because no cat should ever have to be ripped from their mother’s paws far too early.

brindleface tries to warn her son. there’s a fire. leave thunderclan camp. you will be in danger. but his face is transfixed. he stumbles forward, as if he is caught in the eyes of a monster, his tail awkwardly angling to one side. he sees three figures leap through flame, and rushes inward. brindlefaces loses sight of him until she sees him confront that russet-furred molly, three children behind him.

she knows the look in their eyes before. the look of a child ripped from their mother’s paws too early.

she looks at ashfur and sees

to her horror

his eyes are suddenly

Name: Little Beepo

Skill: Fucking Miserable

INFECTED WITH RABIES,

NOW COUNT HOW MANY WOUNDS,

THEY HAVE FROM SCABIES,