falling petals | warrior cats story

twenty nine.

twenty nine.
lilystem.

"Mother," I mumbled softly against her pelt, my paws clutching onto her tightly as if she were about to disappear into thin air.

Although both of our pelts were getting wetter by the second, I didn't care. Being with my mother at this moment allowed me to be vulnerable, and that was okay.

"Oh Lilystem, I've missed you so much," Clovertuft whispered, pulling her head away from mine so that her gaze could meet mine. Her left paw grazed my drenched cheek, her ocean blue eyes lighting up the darkest parts of my world. She turned, "Come, let's get under the shelter."

Clovertuft bounded towards her twoleg nest, myself not far behind as we scampered up the couple steps that led to the wooden deck. Part of the nest hung over our heads so that we were out of the rain.

Once we both made it, she looked to me instantly. "We've much to catch up on!" She beamed, padding through the small doggy - door that led inside the nest. I swallowed my nerves before following her inside.

I noticed that the inside of the nest was warm, cozy. Clovertuft made her way towards what appeared to be some kind of fireplace, sitting down beside it and waiting for me. My paws carried me over, the warmth from the fire heating up my drenched pelt.

"So," She started, adjusting her body to the heat from the flames, "How's Petalheart doing? It's been some time since she's visited. Is she sick again? Don't tell me, she's—"

"Clovertuft," I stopped her mid sentence. Wait, what did her twolegs call her? Certainly not Clovertuft. I quickly shook my head to rid myself of the random thought.
"Please," My voice squeaked, gaze averting from hers. She didn't know. Of course, she didn't know.

"What?" Her head cocked to the side in obvious confusion, "What. What happened?"

I gulped, sitting down. "Petalheart's dead, mother." There was no reason for me to beat around the bush, I had to tell her about what happened straightfowards.

Clovertuft's eyes widened, her paw raising from the ground slightly in pure shock. Her tail-tip twitched anxiously, "No.." Her head shook consistently. I hated seeing her like this.

"Our Petalheart?" Her voice cracked, blue pupils trained back onto my expression. "But," pause, "the litter?" She whispered.

"She died during her pregnancy," I told her truthfully, the words hard for me to speak.

Now, I knew she was puzzled as her facial expressions contorted into clear confusion. "That's not possible... she already had her litter."