Ashfoot curls her tail around Downkit and Crowkit, as Deadstar finishes reciting a prayer for Hillkit. Their sister is the only one who looks anything like their mother: Downkit and Crowkit take after Deadstar.
Downkit settles onto their paws, trying not to think about how Hillkit’s chest should be moving. She’s been sick — Barkface said some kits are just born that way — but it’s not the same. Even in the past few days, when she was too tired to play most of the time, she still sat with Ashfoot, watching them, and liked to narrate their games, deciding who won battles or cheering for them to win races.
Now she’s not doing anything.
“You two don’t have to stay up,” Ashfoot whispers. “If you’re tired, you can sleep. Tawnyfur will let you sleep with her.”
Downkit yawns, but shakes their head.
“We’re going to stay up,” Crowkit says.
Ashfoot nuzzles them both, and Deadstar joins them, sitting on the outside of Downkit. His tail reaches over them to touch Ashfoot’s back, and like she was just waiting for him to come, she folds in on herself, hunching over against Hillkit.
“It’s not fair,” she whispers. “After everything.”
Willowstone comes behind them, gently pulling Downkit and Crowkit away, and Deadstar leans into Ashfoot. “Come sit with me,” she says. “Let’s give Ashfoot some space.”
“She doesn’t need space,” Crowkit says. “She needs us.”
“She will need you,” Willowstone says. “But right now, she needs space. It’s…” She sighs, licking both of their heads, and settling over them. Even though it’s greenleaf, and plenty warm, being surrounded by her soft fur is comforting. “One of my littermates died when we were kits,” she says. “It’s very hard, and Ashfoot is going to be very sad for a while.”
Downkit licks Willowstone’s fur. “I miss Hillkit.”
“I know, sweet. But she’s running in StarClan now.”
