Warriors: Starlight

Chapter 5

The past couple of moons has been uneventful but decent.
Runningwind was busily describing in great detail his hunt and how he caught several voles, acting it out for emphasis, to a very bored Fireheart who was slowly finding it harder and harder to look the slightest bit interested in the furball's self-indulgence.

Just then, Graystripe came bursting through the gorse tunnel, straight toward him.
"You have to come." He panted. Fireheart happily joined his friend, all too Fine with leaving Runningwind's gloating. His 'flawlessy' hunted fresh kill could keep him company.

They came sprinting through the forest, pushing into the undergrowth, but stopped for a breath.
"So what is it?" Fireheart questioned, looking at the gray warrior with avid interest.
"It's Silverstream. She's kitting!" He panted, panic written in his eyes. Fireheart's heart suddenly picked up.
"Then why are we still waiting around?"-Fireheart yowled -"lets go!"
He started pacing himself, pushing through the brambles, Graystripe in tow.
As they got closer to the edge of the territory, Fireheart could smell the Silverstream's fear scent, to which he pushed further.

"AHHHH!" He heard a shriek of pain, and exiting the fronds, he spotted the queen on her side, muzzle crunched up in pain. Fireheart froze in fear at what he saw next. There was so much blood. Too much. He'd never seen a kitting before, but he was sure that this wasn't supposed to happen.
The queen writhed in pain and, yet, no one could help her.
"Silverstream!" Graystripe called, rushing over to her side. Fireheart crept over to the two, and when he reached them, he saw a kit already laying beside his mother, gray like his father, but a darker shade.
Before Fireheart could finish admiring the little kit, he heard the queen cry, and a she-kit was born, silver like her mother.

He looked back over to Silverstream, who lay limply, eyes tired.

"Silverstream. They're beautiful" Fireheart  mewed softly. She smiled weakly.

She just lay slumped. This was not the feisty queen he knew. This was a frail husk vaguely shaped like Silverstream, as though death had already stolen her from them, leaving nothing but a body that breathes and bleeds. he watched as the life force dissipating from her with every moment that went by. She looked so weak. Fireheart had no time to feel or even think. It was all he could do just to stay conscious at the scene before him. Her breath was labored and her eyes glazed. When their gazes connected, there was a silent understanding that she wasn't long with them. Her gaze then zipped back to Graystripe.

"Graystripe"- She lifted her head to look at him, -"listen to me. Take good care of our kits" she whispered.
"What are you saying? You're taking them back to your clan. Or maybe you can come with-"

Silverstream cut him off . -" Graystripe. We both know that I won't be leaving this river... Fireheart, Please make sure he doesn't beat himself up over this. He's better spend that time looking after the kits."
Fireheart tried to respond, but his voice caught on his throat. He looked over to Graystripe, and his eyes were welling with tears. He felt his heart bruising, wrenched from his chest and thrown at the ground, trodden upon and shoved down his throat. Now, all he could do was choke on his words. The rain in his eyes threatened to fall, but he pulled it back. He doesn't have the right to cry yet. Graystripe needed him more than ever now.
He padded tentatively over to his love, pressing his muzzle comfortingly into the crook in his neck.
"It's okay Graystripe. Just- *cough* bring them back to Thunderclan as *cough cough* rogue kits. It will be better for everyone if no one knows their Riverclan heritage." She choked, staring at the river, her head down on the rocks.
Graystripe gently pushed away from him and padded over to Silverstream.
"I will always love you Graystripe. Even if we aren't together in the end. Please love me through the kits. This isn't goodbye, because I'm still here, and *cough cough* I... always..." her breathing shuddered to a halt mid-sentence. Her soft face fell to the ground and the spark that lit her eyes was now dull and lifeless. She was no more. Silverstream was gone. "She's with StarClan now Graystripe... Come. We have kits to take care of. Please Graystripe" Fireheart nudged him pleadingly, gesturing toward the pathetic bundle of gray and silver fur, padding over to clean them, before heading to a batch of herbs to clean off the kits' scent with. The ground around Fireheart felt haunted and harrowed, like they were unwelcome here.
It was all he could do to keep it together when all he could smell was the fear-scent seeping off of Graystripe and the dead mother of his kits.
"Graystripe. Come!" He snapped, the weight of the situation battering at him compounded by his fear causing him massive agitation.
The gray warrior dragged himself over and picked up the silver daughter. She whimpered as he lifted her, demanding to be put down.
Fireheart gently picked up the gray tom—who didn't whimper, but instead swung his paws around in a tantrum, but didn't whine— and they carried the mint-scented kits back to camp. They'd bury Silverstream once they returned, though Fireheart doubted that there'd be time to return today.
And with that, they headed home, detouring through the mint field to cover themselves from Silverstream's scent.

If Bluestar ever found out what happened here, she'd have his head.