Fight or Flight

Robinheart's paws dragged, the weight of his niece swinging silently between his teeth, normally no harder to carry than a mouse, pulling his head down toward the ground. His brother Larkclaw had run to him in a panic, knowing he and Nightwish could not carry all three of their kits by themselves. A hissing rain had begun to soak his russet fur, the sky along the horizon glowing a sickly yellow as the sun rose behind gray clouds. The medicine-cat Ripplinglake padded beside him so that he could check on Finchkit, his expression unreadable. His apprentice, Willowpaw, a big-hearted and loyal young tabby tom, had been lost to the fire. His sister Lilymoon walked on his other side. Her silver and white pelt was stained with ash and her blue eyes smoldered in the dim light. 

Up ahead, a dark ginger warrior, Foxfeather, and the apprentice Marigoldpaw carried a limp form. Mousewhisker's gray tail dragged in the dirt as she was brought along, those who loved her unable to leave her behind. Marigoldpaw's eyes were glazed and her ears half flattened. The small deputy had saved the young she-cat's life when a flaming limb came crashing down into a group of fleeing cats, splitting them apart even further. Her brother, Cloudpaw, was not with this group and he knew she feared the worst. Robinheart's thoughts jumped with a pang of fear to his own brother. Larkclaw was not here either. Just behind Robinheart were the final smattering of Mapleclan cats that had managed to stay with this group. A queen, Thinflower, who was heavily pregnant, and Raincloud's two, now seemingly orphaned kits as well. He sent a brief prayer to Starclan that either she or Crowpelt had made it out and were waiting for their sons somewhere. 

As the sun rose, Robinheart knew they would need to stop somewhere soon. Marigoldpaw stumbled every few moments under the weight of her deputy. Mousekit and Needlekit were barely two moons old. They had walked very far. He halted, causing Ripplinglake to pause and Thinflower to bump into his haunches. He set Finchkit down gently on a drier patch of leaves.

"We have to stop and rest," he rasped. His voice felt hoarse from the smoke he had inhaled. "Walking on blindly will get us nowhere."

The others didn't respond right away, but Ripplinglake nodded and sniffed at Finchkit. She mewled feebly.

"She has to eat," he said, looking up at Robinheart.

He looked back to Thinflower. She was watching the tiny kit in concern. 

"I know my kits haven't come yet, but I think I may be close enough that I can feed her," she offered. 

"Let's find somewhere to shelter first," Foxfeather mewed, resting his muzzle on her shoulder. It may have been intended to comfort her, but Robinheart could see his legs shake and he knew that Foxfeather was exhausted. 

"I'll go look for a place," Lilymoon spoke up. "Marigoldpaw, will you help me?" 

The gold apprentice looked up and nodded to her weakly. Robinheart watched the two pad away and then bent to lick Finchkit, worried she was too cold with the rain. Mousekit and Needlekit crept up and curled their small bodies on either side of their smaller denmate. Robinheart admired that they had thought of her well-being and not just their own at such a young age. Ripplinglake checked them briefly too, but then turned his attention fully to Thinflower. Her kits were nearly a quarter moon late now and Robinheart knew this as well as the added stress of the fire could be very dangerous for both mother and her unborn kittens. The medicine-cat prodded her stomach gently and she winced, catching his attention. 

"That hurt you?" he mewed. 

Thinflower looked unsure but nodded. Ripplinglake grumbled under his breath, looking over his shoulder where his sister had disappeared. 

"We should stay here until they are born," he finally said. 

Soon the two she-cats returned and led the group into a bramble thicket, protected from the dripping rain. Thinflower slumped down on her side into a pile of dry grass that Marigoldpaw scratched up for her and Foxfeather curled behind her, resting his head on her shoulder. His eyes closed almost immediately and Thinflower licked his face. It must have been difficult to carry Mousewhisker all this way. Robinheart thought of her small body outside and knew they would need to bury her here. 

Robinheart gently placed Finchkit at Thinflower's belly. She didn't move for a second and his heart skipped a beat, but Thinflower nosed her and she began to squirm into the pale tabby's fur. 

"I'll look after her, don't worry," Thinflower mewed warmly.

Ripplinglake crouched at her head and waited, his multi-colored eyes not betraying a hint of tiredness. Lilymoon offered to go hunt, her paws too restless to sleep yet, and slunk out of the makeshift den.

"I'll take the first watch," Robinheart offered. Ripplinglake nodded his thanks and he slipped outside. 

The sun was higher now, the yellow light of day filtering through the dripping branches over his head. The rain had stopped, but thick mist still hung below the canopy. Robinheart could almost close his eyes and believe he was home, and that none of this had ever happened. He sighed deep in his chest. Where would they go now? How would they find the other survivors, and would they? He looked up, searching the sky for the pinpricks of light that he was raised to believe were the warriors of Starclan, watching, but the dawn light and the drifting smoke that had followed them all night long obscured them from view. 

Robinheart jumped as the bushes behind him rattled, but his fur lay flat again when he recognized Marigoldpaw's vibrant pelt. She sat down beside him and wrapped her tail over her paws. 

"You should get some rest," he told her. "It will be an even harder journey with more infant kits to carry."

Marigoldpaw stayed silent for a moment and turned her dull gaze upward. 

"I can't. I can't be in there with them, knowing I will soon have more kin, and not knowing if the brother I love so much already is even alive," she mewed, her voice holding the slightest hint of contempt.

Robinheart remembered in that moment that Thinflower and Foxfeather were she and Cloudpaw's parents as well.

"They won't love these kits anymore than they love the two they already have," he replied, treading carefully in choosing his words.

Marigoldpaw looked at him with her piercing gold eyes. "They haven't even said his name once. It's like they're afraid to." She sighed. "Is it cruel to say I would trade these kittens to get my brother back?"

Robinheart swallowed, unsure how to respond. "No," he finally said. "You don't know these cats. They are as good as strangers to you right now. But one day, you may look back and wonder why you ever thought that. Cloudpaw may still be alive out there. And even if he isn't, I'm positive he would want you to take all the love you have for him and give it to them. They'll need it with this hard start to life."

Marigoldpaw didn't respond, but hung her head, her shoulders drooping. He could tell she knew what he said was true, but her pain would remain. They sat together in silence for a while, watching the sun climb. Lilymoon returned and dropped a mouse at each of their paws before slipping inside to feed the rest of the cats. Marigoldpaw eventually dipped her head to Robinheart and went inside to sleep. He stayed there, stiff as a stone, until the sun was at it's midpoint. Foxfeather emerged, stretching. 

"I'll take over watch Robinheart. Thank you for letting me rest, but you need to now," he meowed.

Robinheart felt exhaustion weighing on him like a boulder, but he glanced at Mousewhisker's smooth gray fur in the grass a couple of tail-length's away.

"We should bury her first. She deserves to be at peace."

Foxfeather followed his gaze and then nodded in agreement. He retreated back into the bramble den and the others came out one by one to pay their respects to their fallen deputy. Marigoldpaw hesitated a few moments longer, whispering something into the cold gray fur that no one else could hear. Robinheart assumed it was a thank you. He and Foxfeather buried her together under a sapling willow tree.

Once they had finished, he cleaned his paws on the grass and went to rest. His sleep was black and empty and seemed that it lasted only a few minutes before a dull wailing made him shoot to his paws. The den was dark. Night had come again. The wailing was coming from Thinflower. Foxfeather was at her side, whispering comfort in her ear while Ripplinglake crouched over her. Marigoldpaw leapt up and licked her mother between the ears before picking up Finchkit and curling around her in the corner of the brambles, wrapping her plumy tail across Needlekit and Mousekit as they watched silent but wide-eyed.

Robinheart wanted to give Ripplinglake space, so he ducked outside again. Lilymoon was there keeping watch. 

"I'm going to find some water for Thinflower," he told her. 

She dipped her pale head to him and he trotted off. They had passed a small spring on their way into the copse. He scratched a wad of moss off of a fallen log and dipped it into the crystal clear pool. He could see ripples spreading across the surface rhythmically, hiding the gray stones at the bottom from view. He watched it clear, expecting his reflection to return, but something seemed off. Shapes and colors blurred the water like a pale glow, and then suddenly the image was unmistakable. A robin with a bright orange chest stood on a pine branch holding a maple leaf in its beak. It stood very still, but a bright yellow wasp swarmed around its face, repeatedly attempting to sting the leaf while the bird protected it. 

The image vanished and Robinheart stumbled backwards into the long grass. His heart was racing. He knew he hadn't imagined this, but what did it mean? Why had Starclan come to him, and not the medicine-cat just behind him?