Saving Sable

Chapter Ten

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"In the night your heart is full and by the morning empty"
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Dawnclaw's eyes were narrowed. "So how does play therapy work?" 

"Well, there are many techniques, you see. The one i'm going to do with Sablekit is known as the Feeling Word game. Kits tend to find verbalizing their feelings very difficult - same goes with analyzing their feelings. This is why kits are so hard to work with." Aquiver gave a disdainful sniff.

"Anyway, first, Swiftear will make a facial expression, and Sablekit will have to say what emotion he thinks Swiftear is portraying. If he cannot figure out a certain emotion, I will suggest the answer. As he says each correct emotion, I will draw the expression in the dirt. Positive and negative emotions will be separated.  Then, I will tell him 'These are all of the feelings. We have the feelings by our feet.' I am going to tell a story about myself, and it includes a mix of positive and negative emotions. When the story is completed, I place a leaf on each emotion relative to the story drawn in the dirt. Then, I tell a story about Sablekit, a nonthreatening one. Then he places the leaves on the emotions. Then he tells the story, and I place the leaves on the emotions." Aquiver finished her lengthy explanation, her voice was clear and at a higher pitch than what it was usually. Dawnclaw noticed that this happened whenever Aquiver explained something, or talked about her home - the latter wasn't often.

Dawnclaw twitched her tail, an undercurrent of anger flowing through her. 
"

And why can't I be present?" She asked, trying to keep the resent out of her tone - and failing miserably.

Aquiver laughed gently. It wasn't a happy laugh, it was one of unkindness, and perhaps a trace of pity. 

"Dawnclaw, you know that you need to let him heal. And sometimes that involves sitting back and disconnecting yourself from him, while we work on unraveling what you did. Don't worry, you'll be involved." She added on her last sentence as an afterthought, to try and make her words less painful. 

But they stung as if Dawnclaw were covered in thistles.

"Now, Swiftear is going to fetch him, and we will walk behind the Leader's den." The brown she-cat informed her. 

Dawnclaw watched Aquiver walk away.

The dilute tortoiseshell sat down with a thud. She cast her eyes to the ground, watching two ants scramble around. She swept dirt over one, emptiness billowing inside her, a fog of vacancy.

"Dawnclaw." 

She looked up to see a tortoiseshell face. Brindlebee. The she-cat's pear green eyes were kind, and curiosity eddied inside their depths. 

"Dawnclaw.. is this to do with what happened two sunrises ago? When you and the kits had to go into the medicine den?" Brindlebee asked, he voice so innocent, so pretty and light.

Brindlebee was kind. She was friendly and understanding.

"Dawnclaw? You did promise." The older tortoiseshell reminded her.

Dawnclaw didn't remember any promise. But then again, that whole day had passed in a peaceful haze, aside from the time spend in the medicine den. That had been in excruciating clarity. 

"Of course. Let's leave camp." Dawnclaw meowed, hesitation cracking along her spine.

She rose and walked, Brindlebee followed in silence. It was pressing and uncomfortable, not at all pleasant or companionable. The world around the two was an impressive blend of greens and browns, with the occasional orange or yellow. Leaf-falls were always very pretty in SpruceClan's territory. It was greatly comprised of evergreen trees, with a few deciduous trees scattered in the mix. The air was sprinkled with birdsong, burbling streams, and the gentle swaying of trees. Perhaps Leafbare would be kind. 

The two cats didn't notice this stunning landscape, both caught up in their thoughts. Dawnclaw's were a bumbling, disorganised mess of Sablekit's therapy, the consequences of telling Brindlebee or not, and the ever-pressing weight of guilt, slowly crushing her spine. Brindlebee, on the other claw, was focused on her dazzling curiosity. It resembled a river, a torrential rainfall. Glistening, appealing, but deadly. 

Dawnclaw stopped by a large fir tree. She knew there was no delay. She opened her mouth, only to be interrupted by Brindlebee's breathless words.

"One of your kits is dying, aren't they? I'd recognise the look anywhere. The devastation, the silence, the confusion - "

"No one is dying!" Dawnclaw interrupted. Small sparks landed in the dirt, embers of a fire yet to come.

Brindlebee looked bewildered. She began to speak, but Dawnclaw didn't want to deal with anything else.

"Sablekit has reactive attachment disorder. " Dawnclaw proceeded to recite a lengthy explaination. She was staring at the dirt, not noticing the flickering disgust on her friend's face. When she finished, and looked up at the other tortoiseshell, Brindlebee spared no words.

"You monster! You broke.. you ruined an innocent kit! They should be taken off you! You..."

The world became faded, unfocused. Everything became muted, a pale imitation of it's former self. Dawnclaw retreated to somewhere in her own mind, a defense mechanism to save herself from Bindlebee's stinging words.

She saw it now. While Brindlebee was kind, she was not understanding. And she didn't see the grey area. For this  feline, everything was in black and white. All she could think of was the kits.

And what happens next? Dawnclaw could predict it to lethal accuracy. Brindlebee would tell everyone. It would be a warped version. What if Sablekit were taken away?

What would happen next?

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A/N

The last scene was actually well written. And then it didn't save. The re-written version is quite terrible, I'm sorry.

Fact Of The Chapter: This is the second time Brindlebee and Dawnclaw have shared the nursery, the first being when they were kits growing up together, Brindlebee being the oldest.