sage | a warrior cats fanfiction

chapter twenty seven

As he left, he realized his mistake.

I have no idea what to do with these kits.

And furthermore, he wasn't sure if there were cats around. If there were cats in the camp, they'd certainly all be suspicious of what he was doing with two corpses. But he couldn't explain it to them, could he? He wasn't going to expose what Willowdapple was doing. It was just another secret to keep.

Sunlight blasted his vision and the pale tom reared back, quick to turn and shield the two limp figures in his jaws with his body. The sun was so bright, though still pale, that he couldn't even tell if there were cats in camp. So, he made a beeline for the exit, and with that, he left the camp.

The herbs all over his fur had started to peel off, growing crusty and somewhat old despite having only gone through a little wear and tear. Generally, his plan was to talk to Pantherleap next. But he still had to find the senior warrior, and even more still he had to go back to the healers' den.

Quickly heading out into the territory, he soon spotted a tree that appeared good enough for a grave. Crouching next to it, he unsheathed his claws, laying the two kits on the ground gently, and he started to dig. Instantly, his paws ached from the motion of digging endlessly, but he did it anyway. If he was quick, he could always snag something from the healers and get something to ensure the nursery didn't smell too bad.

Eventually, there was a small hole at the base of the tree. A small section of the pine needles had been cleared out in order to provide easy access. The hole was rounded and considerably deep, and behind the tom, there was a large pile of dirt. He huffed and stood there for a moment or two, trying to catch his breath.

Then, silently, he took the kits, one by one, and placed them into the grave. He looked down at their two little forms, pitiful, sad, helpless, gone and empty, and without a second thought, he scooped dirt back into the grave. Patting it back on, he eventually re-constructed a layer of the pine needles atop it, too, though he let a couple poke upward as if to mark the area.

Instead of going back right away, he patted the layer down firmer, and he leaned down and gently touched the ground with his nose.

StarClan, if you're listening, take these kits gently. They have done nothing wrong to deserve their fates that ended so horribly and tragically, but only some would say it's better than being alive. But these kits deserved to have a life, so let them in StarClan.

Let them play in the fields of stars for moons, until they come back and ask for training from a starry warrior, and if that warrior deny them training, send someone else over to help out. And let Willowdapple know of their adventures. She would find great comfort in it.

With that, he turned around and headed back to camp.

He didn't really feel all that sad. He wasn't sad for the kits' passings, he wasn't sad for Willowdapple, trying to keep some of her dead litter around to ease her grief, he wasn't sad for himself, for all the stuff that had gone on recently... but he was nervous.

Nervous about Pantherleap and the whole fiasco with him as well as his injuries, nervous about the rogues and their attacks, nervous about Willowdapple and the possibility that someone could find out about her kits, nervous about his injuries, because if they didn't heal, then what use was he to the Clan, and they'd surely kick him out if his secret got out...

My secret.

As he thought about it, the 'secret' was more so just him hiding from something. He knew that he had to ignore it and press it away as much as he could, but it felt like it had always been a part of him, but he'd only just realized it now. He didn't like the thought that it had always been a part of him. I don't like it. Make it go away.