Broken Bundles (short story)
Previous: https://www.tumblr.com/residents-of-the-darkforest/731013518657191937/the-sick-kits?source=share
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Magpieshine wondered how many times a heart could break before its shattered remains became too brittle to piece back together. As a ‘paw, she would have expected not often, maybe just once, yet now every time she so much as spared a glance in the direction of her youngest siblings, she felt her heart squish into cold shards that pierced her chest and throat, choking it and making her hold back sobs.
She never got to meet her little brother, Lionkit. He was buried before she was able to return to the Eye-Out Thorns once she was told of the situation. Part of her was grateful for that–she would have likely only seen his skeletal remains. Still, it pained her that she did not have the chance to see him. He was buried in the main den of the family, where her parents, Grousemane, Hootpetal, Alderstar, and Myrtlewing sleep. Uncustomary for many, but the family wanted him as close to them as possible.
Magpieshine gazed around numbly at the faded-green plants in the den around her. The family had relocated briefly to Myrtlewing’s medicine den with the three still-living kits.
The tiny bundles were incredibly thin, even when they were coaxed to eat–which often took a good part of the day to do. It was hard enough finding herbs in good enough condition to be of use, even harder still to actually have the kits swallow them down.
Magpieshine shuddered, seeing every rib of Sunkit as he stretched beside Hootpetal, who lay curled in the nest with them, encouraging them to suckle. Alderstar and Grousemane stuck as close to the kits and Hootpetal as possible. Perchclaw and Stonefern, like Magpieshine, had hardly taken their eyes off of the little ones. It was only because Myrtlewing warned against raising their temperature with too much body heat that they didn’t curl around the kits as well.
Magpieshine doubted she had ever seen Myrtlewing so attentive before. He rarely ever removed his eyes from the kits, his nose always close enough to sniff out any changes immediately, and when he did move, it was to check on Hootpetal. Hootpetal thankfully didn’t catch the sickness, but ever since they moved to the medicine den, she had completely refused to leave the nest. Her fur was ruffled and in clumps. Still, she wouldn’t move. Alderstar was at her head now, grooming the fur along the side of her neck and gazing sorrowfully at his kits.
Archwing, Willowcloud, Wolfpool, Scabdrip, Redmask, and pretty much everyone else in the family had occupied themselves with gathering anything that was needed. Archwing, Magpieshine’s nephew and Myrtlewing’s grandson and former apprentice, had taken after healing, and was the one to gather needed herbs while Myrtlewing stayed in the den.
Magpieshine frowned, thinking about her kin. The last time she had seen him, he had been panting, appearing as if he were about to drop. It was in the den and right back out with him. She didn’t think he had taken a single break from gathering herbs since the kits had been born prematurely. His littermates realized this too and chose to help, but without his experience, they weren’t always successful.
Redmask and Scabdrip busied themselves with catching minnows or convincing–perhaps with teeth–StarClan cats to give them food to give to Hootpetal to strengthen her and her milk.
Willowcloud, Spottedtooth, Buzzardblaze, and Aspenlight would take turns collecting moss for water, while Wolfpool, Dusksong, Falleniris, and Waspbeak would search for it to change the bedding. Myrtlewing had told them that it was important to change the nest of a sick cat frequently, as it may hold some of the illness. It made sense, Magpieshine thought, seeing how much the kits’ tiny noses and mouths dripped with phlegm, though in the back of her mind she was admittedly surprised to know that Myrtlewing could actually be quite the knowledgeable, attentive, and caring medicine cat after all his murders. Then again, these kits were his as well–even if they were only Hootpetal and Alderstar’s biologically. Magpieshine herself hadn’t even been any of theirs until she was six–seven? moons old.
They are good parents. She felt that shattering again, the crackling and splintering of her heart. They don’t deserve this. The kits don’t deserve this.
She didn’t remove her head, but scented Archwing return again. She watched as he passed some yellow-orange berries to Myrtlewing. Myrtlewing still kept his eyes fixed on the kits as he chewed and Archeyes left again. He was already lowered on the ground. Coating a claw in the poultice, he gently opened Marigoldkit’s jaw. Magpieshine’s heart–shattering still–sank to the pit of her stomach as she saw that her sister didn’t protest, didn’t so much as lift a paw against him as Myrtlewing tried to get her to suckle his claw and gulp the medicine down.
It was a long time before he was able to manage it, and it was really only because the herbs got stuck on her tongue that Marigoldkit could do it at all. Myrtlewing looked like he was about to collapse with exhaustion, but he moved on right to Peonykit and then to Sunkit.
Yet even then, Myrtlewing didn’t shut his eyes. Magpieshine could see the dark lines beneath them, so clear she was surprised his face didn’t droop with their heaviness. Rising to her paws, she padded to his side and nudged him. “You need to rest.”
“I can’t afford it,” he told her simply, and it sounded like he was attempting to overpower a yawn.
“You can’t afford working yourself to death either. What good would you be to the kits if you’re too tired to focus on anything?”
“I can rest later.”
“She’s right,” Alderstar spoke up, his voice soft as Hootpetal began to snore beside him. “They need you at your best.”
Magpieshine frowned. Alderstar’s eyes looked so red, even where his sharp pupils didn’t touch. “I can watch them,” she offered. “While dad’s sleeping.”
Alderstar gave her a small smile. “Are you sure, dear? You may not know what to look for.”
“Any changes,” Magpieshine decided, thinking back to watching her father work. “Raising or lowering temperatures, struggling to breathe, struggling with anything more than usual.” She looked to Myrtlewing. “I will help them as best as I can, but if they really need you, then I will wake you. Swear it.”
Myrtlewing seemed hesitant. He frowned, grumbling. “Alright, fine. But you wake me if there’s anything at all, okay? If they’re fussy, if they’re too quiet, if they so much as sneeze, you wake me, got it? I can lose sleep but I cannot lose another kit.”
Magpieshine had to shut her eyes for a moment, willing the tears not to fall. She needed to be focused now, not emotional. She could cry later when her siblings didn’t need her. Opening them again, she met her father’s eyes. “Deal.”
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