#honeystream

They’ve always been there for each other, whether they realize that or not. Even after the arguments, after the resentment, after Graystar walked off with Sandkit dangling from his jaws, refusing to let Waspfoot carry her own son back to WindClan, after all the grief and bitterness they still care for each other. They were best friends for three long season cycles, and even if they’re not friends anymore, that worry for each other’s safety remains. Plumstar still feels an ache for Honeystream and Waspfoot whenever Graystar interferes and screws Honeystream over, but that ache only occurs to Honeystream for the first time one afternoon, after a hunting session with her kittens, back when Plumstar first got pregnant.

She doesn’t notice when she enters camp at first; she steps into the camp’s clearing, nudging Lightningpaw and Beepaw forward, ordering the two to go drop their kills off at the fresh-kill pile. Honeystream follows her kittens, dropping her own catch to the fresh-kill pile, and she only takes in her surroundings when she feels her daughter nudge her flank.

“Ma, something’s going on,” Beepaw mumbles, and Honeystream lifts her eyes up, glancing around the camp, “What’s everyone whispering about?”

There’s no crowd, perse, but everyone is out - they’ve clustered together in their own little circles, scattered amongst the camp, with their heads bent low so they could whisper and murmur amongst themselves.

But there’s one thing that the entire camp is doing: they’re all facing the seer’s den. Dread knots in her stomach as she follows the countless stares towards the den, her own gaze landing on the hunched over form of Antfoot, her amber eyes wide and round with fear.

Honeystream lurches forward, rushing to Antfoot’s side, because she knows. She knows something’s happened to Plumstar, even before Antfoot can weakly choke out her mate’s name as Honeystream approaches.

***

Plumstar returns to her duties as soon as Hazelnose releases her from their den. She hasn’t lost any of her own lives, no, but the lives Plumstar had been developing within her stomach stopped growing. This time, no one in the Clan gossips; they keep out of their leader’s business, because they all know not to expect any arrivals in the camp anytime soon.

Honeystream leaves a marigold at Plumstar’s den one day, to show that she feels for her former friend, even if they don’t talk to each other like they used to anymore. Honeystream isn’t sure what Plumstar does with it, but Antfoot comes to admire the little flower that Plumstar’s woven into her nest.

***

A few days later, the Gathering is commencing; Honeystream weaves through the crowds of mingling cats, Lightningpaw and Beepaw at her heels, as she trots swiftly to meet Waspfoot. The couple meets affectionately in the middle, touching their noses in a sweet little kitty-kiss, a pleasant purr rolling from both the mollies’ throats. Waspfoot lowers her head to rub her cheek lovingly against her kits’ cheeks, asking how they’ve been holding up in RiverClan and how they’re training’s going.

“Beepaw’s got a secret admirer,” Lightningpaw teases, and Honeystream lets out a chuff of laughter - Lightningpaw was their quiet kit, who only seemed to pipe up if it involved tormenting their sister. Beepaw’s ears flick back and she huffs, pelt burning, “Shut up! You’re just mad because I’m getting pretty shells at my nest.”

“A secret admirer, huh?” Waspfoot mews, whiskers twitching, “Any idea who it is?”

Beepaw shakes her head, obviously flustered by the topic, but the family doesn’t press further on it when Honeystream changes the topic, “Where’s Sandpaw?”

Waspfoot practically droops at the mention of her son, and her gaze flicks across the gathering; Honeystream follows her mate’s glance and spots her son, crouched in a clump of WindClan apprentices. Morningpaw is settled next to him, but she looks antsy, and every time she stands up to go interact with other Clan cats, Sandpaw shakes his head rapidly as a no and the tortoiseshell molly sits back down, dejected.

“He didn’t want to come say hello,” Waspfoot explains, her voice almost exhausted, “He didn’t say why. He just said no and walked off.”

Before Honeystream can even respond, the group’s attention is snatched back when they overhear Graystar meow, purposefully loudly, “You’re not carrying kitten-weight the way I’d expect, Plumstar.”

Honeystream stiffens, her tail tip flicking, and Lightningpaw and Beepaw shrink back; Waspfoot presses her pelt to Honeystream’s golden tabby one, her head quirked to the side as she murmurs, “Honeystream? What’s wrong?” Honeystream doesn’t find her words immediately, choosing instead to brace herself for Plumstar’s response.

“With all do respect, Graystar,” Plumstar responds in stride, her voice level but stern, “That’s none of your concern.”

“I’m merely curious,” Graystar retorts, his tone a little sharper than earlier, “There’s no need to get defensive.”

Plumstar simply blows out a puff of air in annoyance, her gaze falling forwards; she remains stoic, even when Graystar adds on, “Did you lose your pregnancy?”

“This is an inappropriate time to discuss that matter. Drop it.” Plumstar’s voice is short and terse, her eyes narrowing as she fights back her frustration with Graystar’s pushing of the subject.

“So you did lose it.”

“I said drop the subject.” The red fur along Plumstar’s back begins to bristle with irritation.

Graystar snorts, tipping his muzzle to the air and dragging his gaze away from Plumstar, “That’s a shame, really.” His tone holds no sympathy, and Honeystream doesn’t realize her hackles are starting to raise. Robinstream’s tail starts to lash from where she sits with the other deputies, and Antfoot has also gotten to her paws, her tail tip flicking and the ginger fur along her shoulders lifting.

“I never really expected you to produce an heir as great as my daughter is turning out,” Graystar continues on, and Morningpaw lowers her head as her father mentions her, embarrassment shining in her eyes, “But looks like you won’t be able to turn out an heir at all, hm? It’s a damn shame, though I can’t say I’m surprised you failed at this too.”

Plumstar turns on Graystar, her fur bristling, and both Robinstream and Antfoot open their mouths to snap something at the tom for overstepping his boundaries, but surprisingly enough it’s none of those three who manage to get the first - or loudest - words out.

“Oh fuck off, Graystar!” Honeystream blurts out from where she stands within the crowd, earning a few hushed gasps from those surrounding her, as well as her kits; Waspfoot simply perks her ears up, and she can’t help but smile slightly as her mate begins to tell the gray tabby tom off.

“Excuse me?” Graystar hisses, his yellow eyes narrowing into slits as he glares down at the disruption; Honeystream puffs out her pelt, her own expression matching Graystar’s as she snaps back, “You heard me. This is none of your business, so quit shoving your nose into someone else’s life when you can focus on your own,” Honeystream pauses, tilting her head to the side as she adds on, “Or are you so bad at dealing with your own problems that you turn to making fun of someone else’s to feel better?”

Before the argument can devolve further, Poplarstar, the ShadowClan leader, intervenes, obviously uncomfortable, “Do you think we could just, put this aside for now? And carry on with the Gathering? No reason to bicker like apprentices under the truce.”

Graystar flicks an ear irritably, but Plumstar speaks up before he can deny, “Yes, let us commence the Gathering. In fact, I hope you don’t mind me giving my report first.”

Poplarstar dips their head respectfully towards Plumstar, granting her permission to go on ahead. So she does.

***

The sun shines golden rays upon the border between WindClan and RiverClan, a cherished invitation to Honeystream as she strolls through the territory, Lightningpaw and Beepaw padding along beside her. Honeystream’s pace picked up once she spotted the figure on the border, outlined in a yellow halo by the sun’s rays; for the last few fox-lengths her trot turned into a sprint as she bounded towards Waspfoot, only to meet with a loud, rumbling purr. Lightningpaw and Beepaw came barreling down the slope after her, bouncing around Waspfoot with excited, eager chirps as she broke away from Honeystream to touch noses to her bundling kits.

Light green eyes scan the cluster of cats rapidly for a few moments, before glinting with a hint of confusion. Honeystream shuffles on her paws, lowering her voice as she catches Waspfoot’s attention, “Waspfoot? Where’s Sandpaw?”

Waspfoot’s ears droop, her tail tip twitching before she sighs weakly, “Graystar insisted on taking him out on a training session. He wouldn’t let me take Sandpaw today.”

“That’s not fair!” Beepaw huffs with a stamp of her paw, while Lightningpaw simply narrows their eyes, clearly irked by Graystar’s choice. Beepaw turns to Waspfoot, her paws kneading the ground as she scoffs, “Graystar himself agreed on these meetings and what day they’ll be on! He can’t just,” She pauses in her rant, still fuming as she thinks for her words, “Just change it willy nilly because he feels like it!”

“He’s probably pissed because Ma yelled at him in front of everyone,” Lightningpaw adds on mellowly, earning a swift “Hush! Language!” from Waspfoot. Honeystream’s fur ruffles along her haunches as she snorts, “But she’s right. That tom is always coming after us for the smallest things.”

“He’s sensitive,” Waspfoot offers as a pitiful explanation, “He gets real embarrassed real easy because he thinks no one believes he deserves his position -,”

“He’s right!” Beepaw interrupts with an agitated sneer, and Waspfoot waves her tail to dismiss her daughter’s comment, “Shush! You may think that, but half of WindClan thinks the opposite and they’ll flay each of us if we hear us talking about their precious shithead badly.”

Beepaw and Lightningpaw gasp at Waspfoot’s curse, and the WindClan molly screws up her nose and squeezes her eyes shut, grimacing at letting her own language slip up in front of her impressionable children. Honeystream lets out an airy little chuckle, her teeth peeking out in her sheepish grin, before Waspfoot simply bumps her head against Honeystream’s shoulder, “I’ll drag him to our next meeting no matter what.”

Honeystream grins again, bending forward to rasp her tongue across Waspfoot’s muzzle, “Thanks, sweets.”

Lightningpaw and Beepaw let out a noise of disgust in perfect unison at the sappiness going on between their mothers, but they scatter when Honeystream shoots them a narrowed look, their own giddy laughs bubbling through the air. Honeystream settles into a more comfortable position, tucking her paws under the warmth of the thick, soft fur of her belly, and Waspfoot circles her mate before flopping down against Honeystream’s side, seeking comfort in her mate’s fluffy pelt as she watches her kittens demonstrate the newest battle moves they learned during training the other day.

Their oasis of happiness is brief and fleeting, unfortunately; Lightningpaw pins down Beepaw, but their smug expression drops when they catch sight of what’s on the horizon, and they scrabble off of their littermate. Beepaw scrambles to her paw, her golden tabby fur fluffed out as she catches sight too, and when Waspfoot follows their gaze, she hops to her own paws. Honeystream simply sighs, heaving herself to her own paws, not out of respect but simply to follow in her mate’s action.

“I’m glad I’m not interrupting anything,” Graystar comments as he lumbers forward, and Honeystream mumbles under her breath, “You are.”

Waspfoot’s fur prickles along her spine and she lowers her head to whisper into Honeystream’s ear, “You should send the kits home.”

If Waspfoot senses something off, Honeystream trusts her gut, and does just so; turning to her kits, but holding her ground, Honeystream instruct, “You two, start heading back to camp.”

“But - !” Beepaw begins to protest, only to be nipped swiftly on the ear by Lightningpaw, who then tugs again on their sister’s ear; Beepaw huffs and swats at her sibling, grumbling an acceptance of the order and begins to trudge after Lightningpaw as the pale tabby slips away from the scene.

“Sending the kittens away, huh? Good choice.”

Waspfoot lowers her head, obviously wary of the way Graystar growls that sentence; the gray ticked tabby before them gestures to the direction of camp with a nod of his head, “Waspfoot, head back now.”

“If you have something you want to say to Honeystream, you can say it with me here, too,” Waspfoot asserts, only to be rounded on by Graystar who snarls at her, “I said go to camp, now.”

Waspfoot flinches, almost as if she’s worried Graystar will lash out and hit her, and Honeystream simply reassured, “It’s alright, I can handle him. I’ll see you later.”

Waspfoot simply touched her nose to Honeystream’s, before padding off towards the direction of camp, her lithe tail trailing behind her.

Once the WindClan molly was out of earshot, Graystar advanced on Honeystream, the fur along his shoulders bristling as he ordered, gruffly and growling, “Sandpaw will not be attending any of these little get-togethers.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Honeystream’s ears flattened, her hackles raised as she spat, “Don’t you dare throw that in my face when you were the one causing trouble. You can’t stop me from seeing my son just because you’re mad I called you out for being a prick to Plumstar.”

“I am Sandpaw’s leader and I can do whatever I want,” Graystar barked, his tail whipping back and forth as he loomed over Honeystream; RiverClan molly squared up against the tom, flexing her claws from her wide paws. Realistically, Honeystream would absolutely crush Graystar in a battle, but Graystar held her family above her head like a threatening spider dangling from a web.

“You better check your tone, fish-breath,” Graystar’s insult is initially interrupted by Honeystream’s hiss, but Graystar simply carries on, “My WindClan warriors are loyal to me and me alone. If I so much as give them the order, your life will be a never ending nightmare - and I don’t think you’d want to drag your precious kits into the crossfire, huh?”

Honeystream’s lip remains curled, flashing her fangs at Graystar, but she makes no move to attack him as he reiterates, “Do I make myself clear, Honeystream?”

Through gritted teeth and scathing tongue, Honeystream hisses back, “Yes, sir.”

***

Plumstar doesn’t hear about what happened between Honeystream and Graystar directly; she overhears the molly as she storms into camp, her eyes glimmering as she holds back her frustrated tears, the rage rolling from her in heated waves. Robinstream and Antfoot rush to her on swift paws, their ears pricked up as they circle the molly to get the details. Even Eaglepelt finds himself at Honeystream’s side, his eyes wide and shocked as Honeystream starts her rant. Cats begin to gather around her as she explains what happened, and Plumstar, sitting at the edge of the leader’s den, watches on with slitted eyes.

As she gets up and slinks towards the entrance of the camp, she snags the attention of Tatteredjaw, who twists around to call out to the red tabby, “Where are you off to?”

“Errands,” Plumstar grunts in response, disappearing from the view of camp.

***

“What made you think this was a smart idea at all?” Hazelnose scoffs in annoyance as they buzz around Plumstar, pressing poultice to her stinging cuts and wrapping her particularly nasty wounds in cobwebs, “Honestly, Plumstar, you’re a leader, you should be setting an example, not going out and picking fights with Graystar at the border.”

“I didn’t pick a fight!” Plumstar huffs indignantly, “I went with the intention of exchanging words with him.”

“But you exchanged blows instead?” Hazelnose interjects, earning a frustrated hiss from their leader as they squeeze poultice into one of Plumstar’s unattended lashes. Before Plumstar can even respond, the duo are interrupted by the honeyed purr of Antfoot as she slides into the seer’s den, crooning, “How’s my brave ol’ warrior holding up, sweetheart?”

Hazelnose can practically feel Plumstar’s pelt warm up at the melodious voice of her mate, but they shoo Antfoot off from rubbing her cheek to Plumstar’s with an order, “Don’t touch her yet, she’s took a nasty hit on her cheek and I don’t want you reopening it because you couldn’t stand the idea of not clinging to Plumstar’s side for three heartbeats.”

Antfoot pouts, flicking her tail behind her as she mockingly whines, “But what if I can’t?”

“You’ll manage,” Hazelnose snorts, still annoyed by their leader’s reckless behavior.

Antfoot exchanges an amused glance with Plumstar, flashing her a sweetened grin, before her expression sobers up as she ventures on, “What are you gonna tell RiverClan about your injuries?”

“Certainly not that you got into a fight with the WindClan leader!” Hazelnose objects immediately, and Plumstar fluffs up once more, countering, “Why not?”

“Do you think it’s a good idea to tell your very defensive clan that you went out and picked a fight with the WindClan leader? You don’t think they’ll demand to go and give WindClan a piece of their own minds?”

Plumstar snorts at Hazelnose’s comment, but simply grumbles, “I’ll just tell them I fell into a bramble patch or something.”

***

Moons pass. Plumstar and Antfoot try again for kits, but this time, they remain quiet about it - best not to get everyone’s hopes up too fast, Plumstar says.

And it comes in handy; Hazelnose never had figured out why Plumstar lost the first pregnancy, and they never figure out why she lost her second pregnancy so early on either. The third pregnancy is a surprise that doesn’t last, and Plumstar knows better than to get her hopes up when she gets the news. It never lasts beyond the beginning of the second month, at most.

Each time, the three keep quiet; the rest of the Clan remains in the dark about what’s going on. The only cat who ever hears about each loss is Honeystream, who sits next to Antfoot on the bank of the river and listens to the nimble molly deliver heavy news each time. And each time, Plumstar finds a marigold at the entrance of her den.

Plumstar finds out she’s pregnant again a moon after Beestorm’s own kit is born.

***

“She’s such a cute little thing,” Briarflower coos from where she remains in her nest, belly too swollen to leave her nest for too long. Beestorm chuckles lightly, flashing the new RiverClan addition a light-hearted grin, “You’re gonna be havin’ your own wriggly little cute things by the end of this moon, at least, I bet.”

Briarflower lets out a light laugh, shuffling around to rasp her tongue over her swollen belly; Waxwhisker curls her tail around Beestorm’s tail, a low purr rumbling from her throat as she watches Hornetkit from over Beestorm’s shoulder. Honeystream sits in the empty nest next to her daughter, admiring the small figure of her granddaughter, her light green eyes shining with affection.

“You know, it’s been nearly been a moon since Hornetkit was born,” Waxwhisker suddenly meows, breaking the comfortable silence, “Waspfoot visited you like, a few days after she had been born. Why hasn’t your brother come by?”

Beestorm shrugs, twitching her tail, “Don’t know. He doesn’t like me very much.”

“He doesn’t like anyone very much,” Lightningface observes distantly, speaking up for the first time during that conversation. Honeystream’s ears twitch backwards, but she remains silent, her expression grim.

***

The border buzzes with excitement as Honeystream finds herself leading an extra addition to the border: Waxwhisker. The RiverClan molly walks stride by stride with Beestorm, their pelts brushing as they eagerly chatter about the arrival of Sandwhisker’s kits. Honeystream has a particular skip in her step, her tail wavering behind her as she pads along, Lightningface silently keeping pace with her. She shoots them a side glance, chirping in a silvery tone lightened by the excitement to be able to greet yet another litter of grandkits, “Excited to meet Sandwhisker’s kits?”

“I’m very excited to see Morningclaw’s kits,” Lightningface answers nonchalantly, aware of what they just did. Honeystream simply rolls her light apple-green eyes and bumps her shoulder against Lightningface’s, chiding in an amused tone, “Be nice.”

When a figure finally shows up in the distance, the group doesn’t react with please; Honeystream’s fur begins to lift across her back, and Beestorm’s lip curls into a scowl as she hisses, “Why is he here?”

Lightningface seems tense, as if they’re expecting an attack, and Waxwhisker simply braces herself next to Beestorm, ready to jump before her mate at any given moment.

Graystar’s figure draws closer, and he waves his tail arrogantly as he snorts, “Always so angry to see me, huh, Honeystream?”

“You should damn know well why I’m always so angry to see you,” Honeystream spits back, whipping her tail back and forth. Her narrowed eyes don’t betray the small sense of anxiety she feels in the bottom of her stomach as she watches Graystar’s patrol come to a stop beside him - enough cats to hurt her family.

“What’s with the patrol?” Lightningface addresses Honeystream’s concern, their own eyes narrowed into slits as they glance amongst the group of cats following the WindClan leader. Graystar tips his chin up as he comments, unusually calm, “With how aggressive you RiverClan cats are, I figured I’d need the protection in case one of you tried something.”

“RiverClan cats don’t just randomly jump claws unsheathed at the sight of any other Clan cat,” Waxwhisper points out with a twitch of her tail tip, “We have to be provoked.”

“Figured the news I was about to deliver would be provoking enough,” Graystar retorts, eliciting another hiss from Honeystream, “News?”

“You are not welcome in WindClan camp.”

Honeystream’s thick golden tabby fur fluffs out, irate and shocked, as she snaps, “Excuse me? My grandkits were just born, I should be damn well allowed to see them!”

“Sandwhisker does not want you meeting the kits,” Graystar informs all to professional, “This was his will. So you can turn tail and head home.”

Honeystream bunches her muscles, ready to leap and bowl Graystar over, but as she begins to push herself forward with a yowl, she spots Graystar’s WindClan warriors instinctively stepping in front of their leader, and Honeystream herself feels teeth in her scruff as she’s hauled backwards by Lightningface and Waxwhisker.

“This isn’t what the pact was about! You granted visitation permission!” Honeystream yowls, her tail lashing from where she stands, and Graystar scoffs, “I granted you permission to visit your mate and son; I said nothing of grandkits. And if your son doesn’t want to see you, then who are you visiting the camp for?”

With that, he nods to his warriors, who begin to advance on the RiverClan family, pushing them away from the border; Honeystream goes home with her kits, her pelt hot with rage.

***

“Well, that was a short visit,” Robinstream remarks as she watches the RiverClan family storm into camp, “And a crabby one, I can see. What happened?”

“Graystar met us at the border with a patrol of his own,” Waxwhisker informs the tortoiseshell deputy, the others to outraged to respond, “He said Sandwhisker didn’t want us to meet the kittens and that Honeystream wasn’t welcome there anymore.”

“What? He can’t do that!” Lampreypaw pipes up from the apprentice’s den, and Elmpaw twitches his ear next to her, commenting, “Why not? He’s their leader.”

“It’s not right!” The brown tabby apprentices turns on her companion, her pelt puffed out, and Elmpaw blinks in surprise, taking a shuffling step back, “No I didn’t - I didn’t mean that it was right! I just meant he’s physically capable of doing that.”

Lampreypaw huffs, but the pair of apprentices is shooed away by Antfoot as she sends them back to their mentors, before turning to Robinstream and the RiverClan family, her ears twitching, “He really shouldn’t be able to do that, no matter his rank. This goes against our deal.”

“He said it doesn’t because apparently he and Plumstar never discussed grandkits,” Lightningface comments, glancing towards the camp entrance, “Plus, Sandwhisker himself told him to tell us to screw off, according to Graystar.”

“He could be lying,” Antfoot offers, only for Beestorm to snort indignantly from where she stands besides her mother, “As if. He hates us almost as much as Graystar does.”

“Enough to forbid his own mother from seeing his children?” Robinstream scoffs, and Lightningface simply shrugs their cream tabby shoulders, “Apparently.”

They don’t seem as irate as their mother or their sister, but they were never a big fan of Sandwhisker, plus Lightningface had always been a rather stoic cat.

“What’s going on?” Plumstar’s voice cuts from the seer’s den as she hauls herself from the cave, her ears twitching as she observes the angry throng of cats collecting with in her camp. Hazelnose follows her closely, keeping an eye on her to ensure she doesn’t grow too worked up.

Antfoot strides over to her mate’s side as Robinstream calls out to her leader, “There was an incident at the border. Graystar won’t let Honeystream see Sandwhisker’s kits because apparently he said he doesn’t want her to meet them.”

“He did what?” Plumstar hisses, wheeling around to face Honeystream’s family, her red tabby fur standing on end at the comment, “Did he really do that?”

Honeystream simply nods, her mouth tightly shut to hold back any frustrated screaming she might accidentally let out. Plumstar’s claws dig into the soft, firm earth of RiverClan camp as she growls below her throat, “I oughta give him a damn piece of my mind.”

Antfoot’s tail shoots upright as Plumstar begins to stalk towards the entrance of camp, but Hazelnose intervenes swiftly, stepping in front of the angered feline and blocking her path, “You will do no such thing!”

“And why not?” Plumstar scoffs, lashing her tail behind her, but before she can add on, Hazelnose swiftly interrupts, “Because I know you, Plumstar, and I know you’ll just meet him at the border and get into a damn scuffle just like you did last time.”

Their eyes glance towards Plumstar’s stomach, barely showing the signs of pregnancy, “I can’t have you going out and picking a fight in your condition, Plumstar.”

Plumstar huffs, falling silent until Honeystream steps forward, speaking up for the first time since she got back from the border, echoing Hazelnose’s comment, “Last time?”

“Your sheep-wool of a brain leader thought it’d be a good idea to go out and box Graystar’s ears when she heard he told you that Sandwhisker wouldn’t be attending those meetings of yours anymore.” Hazelnose sniffs, casting an annoyed glance towards Plumstar, who simply flattens her ears and looks off into another direction; Honeystream pads forward, her voice softening as she mews, “You really did that?”

Plumstar leans against Antfoot as she grunts, “Course I did. I can’t have him treating my clanmates like that.”

Honeystream offers Plumstar a small smile, and perhaps their old friendship still lingers, deep down.

***

Moons pass, Plumstar’s kitten arrives without mishap - a healthy young tom kitten, whom Plumstar and Antfoot dub Burnetkit. The Clan celebrates the birth of the young kitten, and Plumstar celebrates silently with Antfoot for the survival of Burnetkit after their previous struggles before.

Honeystream celebrates silently too, sprawled out in camp, watching with joy as Plumstar and Antfoot spoil their darling son.

***

Time never ceases to stop; Honeystream finds herself at WindClan’s border one last time, struggling to bite back the sobs as she stands face to face with Morningclaw and Sandwhisker. Behind her, Beestorm leans on Waxwhisper, her eyes teary as she curls her tail around Hornetpaw, who watches on with confused, wide eyes, Lightningface on her other side. Plumstar and Antfoot hang at the back of the group, unable to do anything or fix any of the events unfolding.

“I don’t even know how you found out about Waspfoot,” Sandwhisker grunts, his voice unusually cold for the situation unfolding. Morningclaw turns to her betrothed, murmuring, “I told them. They have a right to grieve.”

“You have to let me come to the camp, Sandwhisker,” Honeystream chokes out, her voice hoarse with grief. Sandwhisker narrows his eyes, a low growl rolling from his throat, “I will not let RiverClan warriors into the heart of my Clan’s territory.”

“RiverClan warriors - we’re your family, Sandwhisker! I’m your mother!” Honeystream pleads, taking a step forward, only to recoil when Sandwhisker lashes out at her, claws unsheathed. The group takes a step back in surprise, and even Morningclaw hisses with distaste at Sandwhisker’s reaction to his broken-hearted mother.

“As far as I care, Waspfoot was my mother, and she’s dead,” Sandwhisker snaps, teeth bearing at Honeystream as he snarls, “I have no connection to RiverClan. You all mean nothing to me.”

“How dare you!” Beestorm exclaims, her claws unsheathing as she strides towards the border, “Is this all you’ve become? One of Graystar’s brainless lackeys?”

“You will keep my leader’s name out of your mouth, fish-breath!” Sandwhisker turns on his sister, practically howling at her, and Honeystream thinks of how many times Graystar called her fish-breath.

“I will not!” Beestorm stomps her paw defiantly, “Don’t act like he’s too honorable of a cat to have his name come from us! If anything, he’s as important as a pile of rat-dung.”

Sandwhisker yowls in anger, launching himself towards Beestorm with all the intent to tackle her and batter her, but he never meets his goal; his yowl turns into a startled shriek as he feels teeth sinking into the scruff of his neck, almost piercing the skin, and he’s hauled backwards with all the might Honeystream can muster. She sends him tumbling across the WindClan grass, startled and dazed; he stares up at her with widened eyes, as if shocked she had turned on him so fast.

“If you insist on only being a WindClan warrior, if you insist you are not part of this family, then I will treat you as such!” Honeystream hisses, advancing on her son, who simply mews to her in a frightened voice, “What are you doing?”

“What any rational RiverClan warrior would do if they saw some foreign WindClan warrior attack their own kit,” Honeystream answers boldly, rearing up on her hind paws as she brings her forepaws down; Sandwhisker scrambles away, narrowly missing Honeystream’s paws as she slams onto the dirt, and the cream tabby tom heaves himself to his paws and pelts away, calling over his shoulder, “Let’s go, Morningclaw!”

Morningclaw hesitates, watching as her betrothed takes off, and once he’s out of earshot she turns to the RiverClan warriors with grief clouding her gaze, almost putting out the blazing anger within them.

“I’m - I’m so sorry, I didn’t think he’d do that, I never meant for that to happen. If you want to, you can stay at the border to grieve. I’ll tell my father that I saw you all head off to RiverClan camp, he won’t question me.”

She shifts on her paws, before adding on, “And I can sneak you onto our territory some night, Honeystream, after she’s buried. I’ll take you to her grave.”

Honeystream simply mumbles a quiet “thank you” of appreciation, and Morningclaw bounds away, following Sandwhisker with her ears flattened against the back of her head. At least Honeystream had some sympathy residing within WindClan.

She crumbles to a heap, sobs wracking her body, and her family crowds together; Plumstar pads forward, settling on Honeystream’s side and curling around her old friend, rasping her tongue across Honeystream’s head. Antfoot joins her, curling her tail around Honeystream’s haunches and resting her chin on the larger molly’s shoulders. They grieve together.

If one good thing came from Waspfoot’s death, it was the rekindling of Plumstar and Honeystream’s friendship.

And when the time comes, when a few years later, Plumstar and Antfoot come back to camp carrying Burnetpelt’s limp body, tears in their eyes, Honeystream curls up and grieves with them.