(This is kind of a question but also, can we have a peek at Briar,,,??)

And if you want Briarkit’s sprites…Here ya go:

They're also quite fond of Pearfur. :) They call her pretty before disappearing back into catmint.

TW: Stillbirth/Miscarriage/Pregnancy Loss, Heavily Implied Sexual Assault, Infant Burial, Victim Guilt

This may not be for the faint of heart. Please, read at your own discretion, and heed the warnings above.

Pearfur was digging a hole.

The moon was high. BranchClan was sleeping.

Pearfur was not sleeping.

She knew it hadn’t been just a stomachache. She knew very well what the feeling was, and it sickened her. 

She told herself she wasn’t going to let that happen to her again.

At least the first time gave her three gorgeous kits that she didn’t know if she could live without.

This time, Pearfur was left with nothing but two tiny things, wrapped up the best she could wrap them in moss and large leaves. They were too small, too early. They didn’t stand a chance.

She ignored them, ignored the fact that they were left sitting still by her side, and continued to dig. Looking at them made her sick, a fact alone that filled her with overwhelming guilt. 

She couldn’t bury them at BranchClan’s gravesite. No, a patrol or the medicine cats would notice the fresh dirt pile and smell the fear scent that Pearfur was sure melted off of her in waves at this point. Then there would be questions. 

She buried them next to the meadow that bordered the edge of BranchClan’s territory, where the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. She could see the flowers in the dark, their colors dulled by the night shadows. Were the flowers watching her? Judging her?

Pearfur pinned her ears flat against her head and kept digging. The dirt below her felt cool on her paws, but seemed to grow heavier and heavier the deeper she got.

Her heart pounded in her chest. Someone was going to catch her if she wasn’t fast, but if she was too fast it almost seemed like she was uncaring.

Was she uncaring?

Maybe she was.

Pearfur was too worried about this stupid hole to care.

She wanted to go to bed. She wanted to be anywhere but here.

Anywhere.

Finally it was deep enough. Pearfur stared into the empty dirt for a long stretch of time, her tail swishing. Finally, she turned and acknowledged the bundles sitting beside her.

She picked one up, ignoring the bitter taste that filled her mouth, and dropped it in unceremoniously.

Thump.

Then the next.

Thump.

She stared into the hole again.

Why didn’t she feel anything but relief?

Was she a bad mother?

Why didn’t she care?

Why was she okay with this?

Why was she filled with so much rage and disgust, both at Frozenbeam and at herself for letting this happen to her?

Why was she the one who had to suffer while he walked free?

Grimacing, Pearfur filled the hole. It was easier than digging it.

It was over.

Now there was nothing but a lump in the ground, silhouetted by the darkness.

Pearfur turned away. She felt numb. She thought of nothing as she wandered to the stream, and dipped her paws in. She didn’t flinch at the freezing water, or the way the dirt coming from her paws and flowing down the river almost looked like streaks of blood. She ignored all of it.

When she went back to camp, Honeybird and Heathersplash sat quietly at the entrance. The sight of Honeybird made Pearfur bristle. 

She had his eyes.

She had his fucking eyes.

A voice, a soft and slightly raspy one that only matched Honeybird, snapped her out of her thoughts. “Is everything alright?”

Pearfur looked up. She hadn’t even noticed that at some point she had unsheathed her claws. 

Heathersplash and Honeybird were regarding her with a quizzical look. 

“You look upset…Where did you go this late at night?” Honeybird questioned.

Pearfur blinked. How could she answer this? The next words flowed out of her mouth smoothly. Maybe a little too smooth.

“I had to throw something away.”

Honeybird and Heathersplash glanced at each other, then nodded.

“Very well,” Heathersplash mewed. “Get some sleep, okay?”

Pearfur walked past them, into camp.

She looked over at the nursery. A pair of eyes were staring back at her. 

“Scrub…” Pearfur whispered.

The queen padded out of the nursery, a look in her eyes. A knowing look.

A look that told Pearfur she was understood.

“Hey…” Scrub meowed, not even flinching as Pearfur basically tumbled into her, pressing her face into her fur and letting out soft sobs. “I know, I know…I’m sorry.”

Pearfur looked up at Scrub, shaking. The numbness had worn off, replaced by a deep, aching pain and something that almost felt like grief. 

“I don’t want to sleep in the warrior’s den…” She managed to say. “He’s in there. He’ll find out. He’ll hurt me, I can’t-”

“Shh,” Scrub shushed her gently, giving Pearfur’s forehead a few comforting licks. “You don’t have to sleep in there, okay? Here, sleep with me, in the nursery…Unless it’s too much.”

Pearfur shook her head. “Anywhere is better than near him.”

“Then come on. You could use the rest.” Scrub turned, gesturing with her tail for Violetsong to follow.

The nursery was comfortable, the scent of milk and the faint smell of herbs filling Pearfur’s nose as she crept inside. She noticed Atticus’ kits, all curled up together in a large nest of moss. Atticus slept in a separate nest, curled into a tight ball. Nearby, Owlshade was curled up around Littlekit, letting out soft, rumbling purrs in his sleep. 

And a few tail-lengths away, Boragekit and Burdockkit slept together. Pearfur noticed that Flamekit had snuck away from his littermates at one point, and was pressed against Burdockkit’s white fur. It was a sweet sight, truly, and if Pearfur wasn’t so upset, her heart would flutter with warmth.

Scrub settled into her own nest, waiting for Pearfur to join her before draping her tail around the other she-cat. 

“Try to sleep…” Scrub whispered. “I’ll be here. I won’t let anyone bother you tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Pearfur whispered, lowering her head. She peeked out of the nursery entrance, and in the brief sliver of the sky she was able to see, two stars were shining bright.

She ignored them, burying her face into her paws and closing her eyes. They weren’t a part of her that she wanted. 

Spill the beans- unless they’ve been spilled already