Dawnclaw turned her head, and greeted her friend, Mallowheart.

"Dawnclaw! We never talk anymore, not since you had your kits." Mallowheart meowed, her gray and white fur was fluffed up against the leaf-fall chill.

Dawnclaw sighed.
"I know. But in two moons they'll be apprentices."

"I still don't understand why you had kits so young in the first place, you'd only been a warrior for what, six moons or something? Why would you do that? I mean, you were finally a warrior, for StarClan's sake. And you threw it all away! I mean, life will never be the same without kits. Never. You never had the chance to live!" Mallowheart said dramatically.

Dawnclaw chuckled at her talkative friend.
"StarClan, you chatter more than a warbler! We've been over this, I love Pinetuft, and well, the kits weren't planned, but I love them all the same!"

Mallowheart smiled.
"I know. But you could've given them to another queen, or simply reabsorbed them."

"I suppose." Dawnclaw replied. "But I wouldn't want to. They're absolutely perfect." She said.

"I don't mean to interrupt you two, but may I speak to you for a moment, Dawnclaw?" A voice meowed.

Dawnclaw turned, startled, but she relaxed at the familiar face of Swiftear.

"Oh, Swiftear, you surprised me!" Dawnclaw exclaimed, her usual grin returning. 

"Of course you can. You sound worried, what's wrong?" She asked.

"Come into my den, there are some things... we need to discuss." He flicked an ear.

Dawnclaw exchanged a confused look with Mallowheart, before shrugging, and standing up. Shaking her dilute tortoiseshell fur, she began trotting off after him.

She followed Swiftear into his den, squeezing under the hole in the maple tree. She had noted that the maple trees had began to lose their leaves. She didn't often find herself in the medicine den, and after the moons in the spacious nursery, the small medicine den felt cramped. 

"Sit down." Swiftear gestured, turning around and sitting on a small nest of moss. 

Dawnclaw followed suit, anxiety beginning to claw at her chest. What was Swiftear going to say? Is it about the kits? Is it about Sablekit?

"Well, Dawnclaw, you're an attentive queen, you must've noticed something by now." Swiftear launched into it, stopping to swallow. In those few moments, Dawnclaw became hyperaware of two things - the beating of her heart, and the fact that she didn't want to hear what was coming next.

"No.. Sablekit's fine! He's different to other kits, there's nothing wrong with him, you fool, nothing!" Dawnclaw spat, her fury fueled by terror of whatever was wrong with Sablekit.

Swiftear recoiled, his ears pinned against his wide head. 

"Dawnclaw, calm down. You've obviously noticed, from that reaction. I know that you don't want to hear it, no queen wants to know that their kit isn't normal, but I'm sorry to tell you this, but something is clearly wrong with Sablekit."

With those words, devastation trickled down Dawnclaw's spine, sinking her into the ground. She melted, a mere puddle at Swiftear's paws. She soaked through the earth,  her fears drifting her further down.

"No.. No, Swiftear, no!" She howled. A haze of emotion blinded her, she wanted to slice Swiftear into otter-dust. She sunk her claws into the earth, and she barely noticed her quivering.

"I don't know what he has. But he definitely has some kind of mental disorder.. perhaps a personality disorder? I was thinking perhaps a Sociopath. But to show these symptoms so young? It's strange... I just don't know what's wrong with him.." Swiftear continued to drone on, but Dawnclaw couldn't hear him.

Her ears were ringing harshly, her quivering had turned to full out shaking. The tang of salty tears and a raw throat began to burn, and she continued melting, sinking slowly in her own disbelief, horror and dismay.

_____________
A/N


Fact Of The Chapter: The territory is a combination of both Boreal Forest, and Taiga, with a mix of coniferous and deciduous trees; Maple, Fir, Spruce, Larch, Elm, and Oak, Pine, Birch, Aspen, Willow and Rowan.

Saving SableUnde poveștirile trăiesc. Descoperă acum