Haypaw didn’t know how hard it could be to lose one’s mother.

The cat he looked up to for everything. The cat who cared for him unconditionally. The cat who was always supposed to be there for him. The cat he was supposed to care for in the elder’s den. The cat who showed him who he was. She was gone.

The blood-curdling shrieks as Dark was torn apart and the yips of glee were all that chased him now. He’d been split from Beanpaw as the coyotes hunted them, and he was saved by Dark throwing herself at them to give him time to run. But he saw all of it. The gruesome scene was etched into his mind. He felt like he was being ripped in two, and following that was any sense of reality he clung to in that moment. He hung in limbo as the blood flew, and he couldn’t even do the one thing Dark sacrificed herself for. It was like the grass was tangled around his paws, and it took all his strength to hide where he cowered, pleading to anything that he wouldn’t be discovered.

At some point he was rediscovered by Beanpaw and the RavenClan tom Coyotestorm, the cat who they were to meet and the one who was their father. Haypaw was so enveloped in the feeling of being encased in ice, so lost in fear and agony that he didn’t respond to anything. He was dragged back to camp as much as the remains of Dark’s body, and he was trapped in that catatonic state for several sunrises. It was his churning thoughts, replaying memories, dark realizations and icy rage that compelled him to move again. His clan did nothing to prevent the tragedy, and after what he learned from Flareheart, he was even more convinced it was preventable. He knew something had to be done. But he was just as pitiful. He had to grow stronger and he had to make WillowClan stronger against all that plagued it. And he was growing more convinced every day that he was the only one who could do it. It was the only thing that kept his paws moving forward.

After a long talk with Flareheart, something that was becoming like a ritual, Haypaw returned to camp. Their meetings were growing longer and longer, but it was easy to pass off as training. He was planning to return to his nest to review their latest discussion, but he wasn’t expecting to be intercepted by Bayflower. He waited as the medicine cat drew even with him, and he made sure his expression was even. “I’m free if you need help.” It was a simple, unassuming statement, one Haypaw thought seemed normal enough.

Haypaw stared ahead as he followed Bayflower. He heard the words clearly as Bayflower spoke, but none of the starting content prompted him to reply. The last sentence did, though he felt nothing from the comment. “I was just doing my duty.” He hardly spared a glance at the trees and pools of water around him, not wanting to divert his attention from what was directly in front of him. He felt stiff from being over-alert, but he couldn’t bring himself to lessen his awareness in the slightest. “Where is the coltsfoot?” His question pertained to the topic, but he said it in a way that left no room for small talk. Only a few days ago he would be making comments about the weather, about training, about some conversation in the past, but now he couldn’t bring himself to. Or rather, he saw no reason. Dark could no longer talk about those things. So why should he?

Haypaw froze despite himself when Bayflower started speaking about things that weren’t coltsfoot. He felt the fringes of terror encroach on his mind, and it took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t hiding in the grass, and that there weren’t coyotes right in front of him. He registered what Bayflower said, but it felt like he wasn’t present, more like he was watching from a dream that he couldn’t escape from. He nodded stiffly, quickly emptying his mind. It was getting easier to do with each day that passed, and he relaxed slightly when the emptiness surrounded him. It was the only time he could find solace from the visions on repeat. Sleep was no escape and neither was training. “Snapfrost was a good warrior,” he said automatically, unable to force any feeling into it. He did mean his words though. Based on what he heard about her, she was one of the genuine warriors. So many weren’t, and that was something Haypaw vowed to change, no matter how long it took, and no matter how far he had to go.

These thoughts, he knew, could never align with the similarities Bayflower saw in their circumstances. Bayflower found his calling, but Haypaw knew that the ideal he wanted to attain was far harder and a lot more unlikely. Because of that, he couldn’t acknowledge the solidarity the medicine cat offered, even if what was said was the truth. He couldn’t give Bayflower an answer, and he felt no remorse about that. “We’re nearing the river. What does the herb look like?”

It was easy to focus on an objective. It kept him busy and allowed him to focus on other things besides dwelling on the trauma. Straight-forward and logical thinking were all he’d been doing lately. How things were could no longer stand, no longer be accepted, not if WillowClan wanted to stay true to what a clan was. His thoughts swirled nonstop about what he could do. What he wanted to change. How he would see it through.

But right now, he needed to focus on yellow flowers. He saw the patches that Bayflower indicated to, and he walked, still behind the medicine cat, towards them. He moved away from Bayflower after a moment and stood amidst a patch. He bent down to pick at some leaves, careful and precise as he could manage.

Haypaw clutched the herbs in his mouth even tighter, slightly bewildered by Bayflower’s response. He could tell it was a joke, but he didn’t see how the circumstances necessitated it. He could almost imagine the him from a moon ago laughing and playing along, but the him of now couldn’t. The thought of doing anything like laughing or enjoying himself made him squirm. How could he do that when Dark couldn’t anymore? He was staring past Bayflower, and it took him a moment to realize the tom was staring at him, perhaps awaiting a response. “What? ...Did you say?” he added on almost as an afterthought, between the herbs, if only to appear less clueless.

It was a situation that might have once made him feel remorse, but now Haypaw didn’t feel anything of the sort. He followed behind Bayflower silently, the coltsfoot bitter on his tongue as he tried not to picture the undergrowth closing in on him. He failed miserably, and it the walk back to camp felt twice as long. When they arrived, he set the herbs down by Bayflower’s den, nodded, and excused himself.

—

Cherrypaw carried a fish in her jaws and set it down on the fresh-kill pile. It was the first fish she caught by herself, and while she was proud of herself, it felt noticeably muted. She normally would have ran to Dancingflame, but all she could think about was keeping out of her mother’s way. She still felt like a lesser cat after her mother’s revelation, and she could see herself withdrawing from her clanmates. Cherrypaw didn’t like how she felt, but she almost felt unworthy to interact with them. Wanting to find something to do, she saw Bayflower with a large gathering of some herb, and without time to second-guess herself, she trotted over. “Hi, Bayflower. Do you need help?” She tried to keep her tone cheery, but it only felt half-hearted.

Cherrypaw nodded, eager to be useful somewhere. She picked up the herb bundles left outside the den and brought them in, placing them by the herb store. She waited until Bayflower followed her in to answer his question. “I’ve been...” how much could she say without being suspicious? The secret that Dancingflame dropped on her was eating her away. If Mothkit was around, she was confident that she and her sister would have found some way to cope. But her alone, she didn’t know what to do at all. She felt like a fake, and after dreaming about being the best warrior there was, it felt like an ideal far out of reach. “...not good,” she finished, studying the herb store far more closely than was necessary.

Cherrypaw wanted to tell Bayflower. She really did. If she held her secret in any longer, she felt like she was going to explode. But... was it something she really could talk about? It wasn’t an easy thing to mention or even think about. She wasn’t a full WillowClan cat. Her existence literally broke the warrior code—a code she held dearly to her heart. How could she function? How could she allow herself to exist, when she was a walking reminder of what shouldn’t be? She let out a shaky breath. If only leafbare was the cause of her problems. “Dancingflame and I... we had a fight,” she confessed. She didn’t know how to address the problem directly, so edging around it seemed like the next best option.

Her gaze traveled to her paws and she nodded. “We... we haven’t spoken for a while, now.” She looked at Bayflower working for a moment, taking the briefest comfort in its normalcy. But nothing could be normal for her again. “I’m not really sure what to do. She’s the only family I have left, but...” It was technically a lie, but in her mind, it was the truth. She had no paternal figure. “This has never happened before. I don’t know how we’ll ever come back from this.” She missed speaking to her mother, but she had no way of handling the situation in a proper way. Cherrypaw sighed as she scratched at the dirt. “I hope I’m not taking away from the duties you still need to do.” She wasn’t used to complaining about her problems.