Meant for This

“And that’s when the mouse…” Minnowsplash’s words come to a slow pause when they feel the weight shift against them. Turning their head to the kit that they had previously been telling stories to, the warrior is pleasantly surprised to find Dovekit curled up against their curled tail. The kit’s body moves with the shallow breaths that she lets in and out, and Minnowsplash feels their heart warm with parental affection at the sight. A tender smile tugs their muzzle up as they look down upon Dovekit fondly, before carefully moving to avoid waking the slumbering kit. 

Slowly creeping up on all four of their paws, the warrior takes extra care to move the tail supporting Dovekit’s head in a way that allows her to gently rest against the bedding of her nest. They watch her stir, their heart leaping into their throat with fear of taking her much-needed rest from her before she stills again. Good, no sign of waking. Their panic ebbs as they move their muzzle, licking the top of Dovekit’s head affectionately as they mumble to her. “Good night, little bird. I’ll be back tomorrow.” The warrior promises, curling their tail at the thought. They hope that they can be in the Nursery before Dovekit wakes. 

Their heart feels heavy as they step away from the little — well, maybe not little with how fast she’s been growing — kitten so they can step toward the entrance of the Nursery. But this isn’t before they spare a glance toward a sleeping Pollenpuff, relieved that someone else is in the Nursery with Dovekit. They came as often as they could, sure, but… Minnowsplash knew that Dovekit needed someone with her more often than their schedule permitted. Hopefully, Pollenpuff wouldn’t mind keeping her eye on Dovekit when Minnowsplash couldn’t. 

But that thought doesn’t shake the guilt from their chest as they exit the Nursery, setting off toward the Warrior’s Den. Some part of them knows that it’s ridiculous for them specifically to feel guilty — but they can’t help it, even if Dovekit couldn’t be viewed properly as their responsibility. When Larkwhisker had brought her to Snakeclan, Minnowsplash had felt an immediate obligation to care for the young kit. Ideally, they would play a role that was more of… Maybe co-parenting, then being the only cat of the pair interested in taking care of Dovekit at all. 

Minnowsplash feels their whiskers twitch with something that could be considered agitation as they recall the conversation that they had with Larkwhisker. It was Dovekit’s first night in the Nursery, and Larkwhisker had looked so — so upset. Not in the manner of a concerned parent, but rather someone who was irritated with the role that they had been given. Larkwhisker had looked at Minnowsplash like he had been put on apprentice duties as he questioned them, asking if he had to take care of Dovekit. Minnowsplash had passed it off as a joke made out of panic, and fear. Being a new parent couldn’t be easy. 

It’s been a few moons now, and Larkwhisker’s attitude toward the kit hasn’t seemed to change very much. The brown tabby avoids her whenever possible, and Minnowsplash can’t ignore their frustrations beginning to build up over it. Larkwhisker had told them that he wasn’t certain he was meant to be her father, and Minnowsplash did their best to be sympathetic toward this, but they had tried so hard to make it clear that neither cat had a choice in these circumstances. When they had offered to help care for Dovekit, they hadn’t meant like this. 

Not that Minnowsplash hated the role that they played. They loved it, and they adored the kit like she was his own flesh and blood. And at this point? Minnowsplash has little doubt that they could get away with calling her their own flesh and blood. Part of them almost wants to do so, because Larkwhisker has tried so desperately to renounce his role as a father… But Dovekit knows who her family is, and that wouldn’t be fair to her. It would be confusing, and upsetting — Minnowsplash could see it in her face, she was already distraught over Larkwhisker’s indifference toward her. Larkwhisker had also made sure to make a fine mess of things when he got into that argument with Silversong in front of Dovekit… 

Minnowsplash groans as they reach their nest, flopping down and slapping their paws over their eyes with frustration. They stay still for a moment, before letting out a long sigh as they move their paws to flop in front of their body before scrunching their eyebrows together. Although they’ve only just plopped into their nest, Minnowsplash squirms like a fish out of water, restless with his frustrations and fears, the weight of responsibility beginning to truly press against him. They eventually settle on laying on their back, front paws resting on their fluffy chest as their head lulls to look around the warrior's den. 

There are more empty nests than they care to acknowledge. Sure, some of them are left unoccupied by warriors who have gone out to do nightly duties, but others… Others are empty due to sudden disappearances taking place in Snakeclan. The tabby fears the worst for his clanmates, but is selfishly relieved that cats they’re particularly close with haven’t gone missing. Cats like Cloudfur, who had become their best friend over the past few moons — what would they do without her? Who would tell them that their tail fur is out of place, or they would look nicer with yellow flowers in their pelt? ( They still need to apply those… ) Or worse, Larkwhisker. Even if the waters between them feel rocky and unsteady right now, Minnowsplash cares for the tomcat dearly. It’s a small reason as to why they haven’t confronted him about his behavior, about his lack of responsibility. Maybe that’s another selfish thing about them because their lack of confrontation is costing Dovekit the parent that she needs. 

How could they forget about Vulturemoth? The pair had been distant from one another for a while now, but she had been a good friend to them when they were apprentices. She was quiet, reserved — very much in her shell, but she never seemed to truly mind Minnowsplash’s company. Her losses had drawn her away from them, and their own had done the same to her. Minnowsplash can’t quite say that they blame the molly for becoming distant, the ache in your chest is your own responsibility to try to care for when you lose someone dear to you. Everything becomes a blur, and it’s difficult to maintain what and who is still with you when all you want to do is join someone that you can’t be with. 

Speaking of responsibilities… They need to seek out Shellpaw tomorrow, don’t they? They have training to do, even if their sessions tend to be Shellpaw walks off because something caught his eye and it takes five minutes for Minnowsplash to realize his apprentice has left his side halfway through a lengthy explanation, and he has to come running after him. Starclan forbids something to happen to their apprentice and he goes missing too, all because the tabby cat failed to be a proper mentor, to equip him for the troubles he would face in the outside world. 

Minnowsplash draws in another breath, blinking back tears of frustration and other heavy emotions weighing upon them. But the tabby can’t help recalling Larkwhisker’s words, the night that they spoke — he didn’t think he was meant for parenting. Minnowsplash can’t help but let these words resonate, and feel that they aren’t meant for any of this, either. Unlike their friend, they don’t have a choice, they have to be present for their loved ones… But it’s all becoming so much. They feel small again, like when they had argued with Foxthroat and Honeythroat. The ache in their chest grows at the memory as they lift their gaze toward the ceiling. 

They miss their siblings, even if they hadn’t really talked in the moons leading up to their passings. Foxthroat had avoided Minnowsplash like he had a bad cough. Honeythroat — well, she was in a different clan. With kits. Minnowsplash even had the luxury of meeting one of those kits — only a moon or two later, their sister was gone and they were left wondering how her entire litter was fairing after everything. Not well, they’d assumed. They certainly hadn’t when they had lost Foxthroat, and had likely been the only one to truly grieve his loss. Something that had helped them, to some extent though, had been a belief in Starclan. 

A belief that there was something better than the chaos happening down here, and someone looking out for them. Maybe that could bring comfort, again? Minnowsplash blinks at the thought, furrowing their eyebrows together before glancing around their surroundings once more. Their clanmates stay still, unmoving — surely a little prayer said under their breath to the sky the smoke covers wouldn’t hurt? Would it? 

So they speak, their voice barely above a mouse’s squeak. “I don’t really know… Where to start,” They mumble, hating the way that their voice sounds hoarse and small. Usually, they’re cheerful and accidentally loud, but now? Now they’re quiet, sad. “But I hope you’re all up there, watching over us. Maybe you have some divine plan or something.” They huff at the thought because the idea of knowing everything before it’s happened sounds maddening. 

“Or maybe you’re all just winging it like the rest of us, down here.” Minnowsplash presses on, shrugging their shoulders a little as they continue their conversation with no one in particular. “But… Starclan, if you’re up there, if you’re listening — ‘cause I don’t really know if you’re able to see us… Smoke and all… Then I hope you’re willing to look out for us. Protecting us. And if it helps — maybe just… Just look after my clanmates. Don’t mind me. I’ll be okay on my own, always am.” 

Their words leave their tongue as an uncomfortable lie, but they try not to mind it as they feel their eyes lulling shut. Minnowsplash curls their tail around their hind legs as they mumble, softer than before, barely audible. “Just… Help them, Starclan. We need… Guidance…”