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queenofmoons67 · 6 months

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Could you write a fic where Thunderclan is attacked and Brambleclaw and/or Squirrelflight has to protect Lion/Holly/Jay as little kits in the nursery? Thank you!!

WARNING for graphic (though canon-typical) depictions of violence, blood, and gore.

Brambleclaw paced the stone floor of the hollow, checking on various last-second battle preparations around camp. A WindClan patrol had been spotted crossing the border, and though ThunderClan had little time to prepare, they were taking advantage of every second it took for WindClan to reach them.

Firestar had taken Brightheart, Cloudtail, Stormfur, and Ashfur with him to protect the main tunnel. While just five cats, they had both experience and the narrow tunnel itself. The dirt tunnel had been entrusted to Thornclaw, with Spiderleg, Mousepaw, Brook, and Whitewing by his side.

Brambleclaw had also asked Whitewing to look after Berrypaw for him. She was still young, but she was as even-tempered as her mother and as sassy as her father; she would handle Berrypaw’s joking personality just fine while also keeping him safe.

With his apprentice taken care of, Brambleclaw was free to focus on the clan as a whole.

Dustpelt and Brackenfur pressed extra thorns and vines around the nursery, and Dustpelt only took the time once to press his cheek to Ferncloud’s—they had no time for a longer moment, even though the she-cat had only just learned she was pregnant again.

For that reason, she was stationed at the nursery entrance with Sorreltail, who had entrusted her five-moons old kits to Daisy. The tortoiseshell shot frequent looks and mews over her shoulder, though she didn’t break from her station, and only took a single moment to lick her own mate’s cheek.

Brambleclaw didn’t know how she could stand it, being so close to her kits and yet so far with danger on the way. It would have been one thing if Brackenfur had been with the kits, but to have both parents just feet away…

Brambleclaw let his gaze linger on the nursery entrance for one beat—two—and then forced himself to turn towards the opposite end of camp.

Neither he nor Squirrelflight were with their kits, and that was fine. Squirrelflight was out hunting with Sandstorm, getting some mother-daughter time and stretching her legs, but they would be home as soon as Birchfall told them about the attack. And Brambleclaw—Brambleclaw was taking care of the clan, just like he should be. The kits were with Daisy. Safe in the nursery, guarded by Sorreltail and Ferncloud. Their stomachs were no longer round with milk, and though they were still small enough that even an apprentice would find it easy to bat them around, they didn’t need Brambleclaw beside them.

He’d already been to visit them anyway. He’d stolen just a few moments with them after he and Firestar had sorted everyone into their positions, wound his tail around them to pull them tight against his stomach, till Lionkit and Hollykit scrunched up their little pink noses at a face-full of his fur and Jaykit tried to fight his way out with tiny kitten claws.

Then Brambleclaw had bent down to nose at them one by one and to inhale their scents before leaving for battle. Lionkit’s fur had spiked up, making him look even bigger than usual. Jaykit had leaned into his touch, ears flat against his head. And Hollykit had looked at him with wide green eyes before asking what would happen if WindClan broke into the nursery.

Brambleclaw had only been able to say, “It will be ok. They’d have to go through me.” Then he’d had to stand and leave them there, to go be deputy for their clan, and only the knowledge that he would never leave if he looked back had kept him looking forward.

Brambleclaw hissed in frustration, but forced himself to keep his body language composed as he turned to Mousefur and Longtail. The two cats nodded to him from their position just inside the elder’s den; while technically elders, they were the feistiest elders Brambleclaw had ever known, and he knew they were prepared to fight for the lives of not just themselves, but any other cats.

Brambleclaw nodded back, took a breath—and almost jumped when a tail tapped his shoulder.

“Yes, Hazelpaw?” he asked, looking down. The apprentice had been running messages since the first report of a fast approaching WindClan patrol, but still had the energy to shift from paw to paw, claws already out and scraping against the stone.

“They’re here!” she said.

Brambleclaw tensed, his own claws unsheathing, and whirled to face the tunnel entrance. Two caterwauls rose through the air, one high and thready, the other low and long: Onestar and Firestar.

“Go to Dustpelt,” he told Hazelpaw, and she darted away. Her, Dustpelt, Brackenfur, and Brambleclaw himself were responsible for the inner hollow, making sure that if any WindClan cat slipped past the tunnels, they didn’t have a free shot at the nursery or elders.

Brambleclaw stalked around the hollow, ears swiveling, tail swinging low, searching for any sign of trouble. He could make out fighting from both tunnels now, angry screeches and pained yowls, but no calls for help.

The sharp scrape of claws on rock made him look up—but it was just Leafpool, peering out of the healer’s den towards the nursery. She startled when she saw him looking, and he twitched his tail at her. He wished he could do more to calm her, but his entire body was tense from nose to tail tip. She twitched her ears back at him, though, and then turned back into her den. Probably checking on herbs and other supplies. He didn’t know how she could stand waiting for the battle to end before doing anything when just waiting as the rear guard put him on edge.

Another scraping sound came, this time from the opposite direction, and Brambleclaw whirled around, stomach dropping at Dustpelt’s angry yowl: “They’re coming down the sides!”

Whitetail and Weaselfur bared their fangs at them, even almost upside down as they were, claws dug into the stone walls and tails carefully balanced, and then jumped the last fox-length into the hollow. More WindClan fangs glinted above them, but Brambleclaw didn’t bother paying attention to them—he’d already leapt at Weaselfur, crashing into the orange-and-white tom.

From the corner of his eye, he could see Hazelpaw lashing out at Whitetail, only for her to be sent rolling by a spiteful paw to the head.

“Fight someone your own age,” the deceptively small she-cat hissed.

In retaliation, Dustpelt yowled and barreled shoulder-first into Whitetail.

The sounds of battle, once limited to the tunnels, filled the hollow. Claws threw torn tufts of fur into the air, and blood spattered against the stone. Bodies writhed around one another, rolling and standing and falling, all the fur patterns blending into one another until it was hard to tell one cat from another, ThunderClan from WindClan, though Brambleclaw did see the distinctive sight of Cloudtail and Whitewing fighting back to back, father and daughter a mirror image of one another with their long-furred white pelts, Berrypaw a fluff ball of cream beside them.

Cloudtail was supposed to be with Firestar. Whitewing and Berrypaw were supposed to be with Thornclaw. Were any cats left in the tunnels, Brambleclaw wondered, or were they all in the hollow? Had ThunderClan retreated, or had they run to the rescue when Brambleclaw’s patrol was overwhelmed?

Was there any difference, when the end result was the same: ThunderClan once again fighting for their camp, while the camp itself stood hard and unmoving, stone walls pressing in on them.

Blood dripped from scratches and claw marks along Brambleclaw’s body where cats had gotten past his guard. The wounds throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and his lungs worked overtime to try and catch his breath even when there was no time to rest.

For the countless time, Brambleclaw’s gaze slid past the cat he was fighting to the nursery entrance. Ferncloud and Sorreltail still stood strong, backs to each other and facing out, dappled gray beside tortoiseshell—but even as Brambleclaw watched, they slid apart just enough to leave a space between their hind quarters, a small space, but big enough for a lean WindClan cat to slip through.

Tornear latched on to Brambleclaw’s shoulder with his fangs, but Brambleclaw barely felt it, tearing himself free, uncaring of the way that ripped the wound and made it larger, focused more on the beat of stone beneath his paws as he launched himself across the hollow, between the two queens, into the nursery, and—

Conflicting instincts hit Brambleclaw all at once. All six kits—Honeykit, Poppykit, Cinderkit, Lionkit, Hollykit, and Jaykit—were squeezed into one nest in the corner. Daisy stood in front of them with her hackles raised, fangs bared, and fur fluffed to twice its usual size. The usually gentle queen looked ready to send dogs yelping for their twolegs.

And before Daisy, half-turned back towards Brambleclaw and calm as death, stood Crowfeather. The same cat who Brambleclaw had traveled with for moons, braving thunderpaths and teasing each other on long walks. Huddling together in the cold, the thick-furred Brambleclaw, Tawnypelt, Stormfur, and Feathertail on the outside while Squirrelpaw smothered the lone short-furred Crowpaw in the middle. Fishing each other out of rivers when the RiverClan cats tried to teach them how to fish. All the arguments, and all the times they had shared food and tongues.

Brambleclaw had been happy to make it back to the old forest, but he had mourned the little family they had created together.

And now Crowfeather faced him in ThunderClan’s nursery, Brambleclaw’s own kits hiding in the corner, and Brambleclaw’s heart longed to share tongues again, to ask how his old friend was doing, while knowing neither of them would sheathe their claws.

Not while Crowfeather stood between Brambleclaw and his kits.

“Why are you here?” Brambleclaw rasped. He took a step to the side, trying to get between Crowfeather and Daisy, but the other tom stayed put, cocking his head to the side.

“My clan is attacking yours.”

“No,” Brambleclaw growled. He swiped a paw across the ground, claws scoring through the soft dirt. “Why are you here? In the nursery?” He could think of only two reasons a warrior would invade the nursery, and he couldn’t believe Onestar would stoop so low. Couldn’t believe Crowfeather would go through with it. But—

Crowfeather straightened, tail twitching. “Too few kits have been born since we arrived at the Lake. But ThunderClan is strong.” His gaze turned towards the kits, and Brambleclaw didn’t wait for him to turn back.

He leapt on Crowfeather, bowling the smaller cat over and rolling him away from the kits. Daisy’s cream-colored legs darted about in his peripheral vision, but Brambleclaw focused on the narrowed, cool blue eyes a single claw’s length from his face, on the furious hiss that cut off when Crowfeather snapped at him, missing only when Brambleclaw pushed himself free to stand, finally, between Crowfeather and the kits.

Except he was too close, Brambleclaw realized. His back paws brushed against the feathers and moss of Daisy’s nest, and Daisy herself stood by the nursery entrance.

Brambleclaw had gotten where he wanted to be, but Daisy had been forced to move. They’d just switched places.

Brambleclaw crouched lower, readying himself for whatever Crowfeather’s next move would be, and his tail fur brushed against soft kitten ears. Lionkit mewed, quieter than he had ever heard him, and the noise burrowed into Brambleclaw’s heart. All his aches and pains faded away.

His kits were only three moons old; they shouldn’t have to hear the sounds of battle yet.

“Coward,” he spat, and leapt upon Crowfeather again.

The lean cat jumped to the side and out of the way of Brambleclaw’s bulk. He lashed out with a front paw, but Brambleclaw’s side was only exposed for a moment before he whirled around, putting himself back in-between Crowfeather and the kits.

On the journey to and from the sun-drown place, all the cats had sparred with each other—both to complete Crowpaw and Squirrelpaw’s teachings, and to keep their own fighting instincts intact. Brambleclaw was well-used to Crowfeather’s strategies and weaknesses.

That also meant Crowfeather was used to his.

Brambleclaw took one step to the side to get a better look at Daisy and the nursery entrance, gaze sliding past Crowfeather, and the WindClan warrior pounced, battering his face with an outstretched front paw twice before Brambleclaw blocked the third strike with his own paw.

The move put all his front weight on the side of his injured shoulder, and Brambleclaw staggered at the sudden pain. Instead of being able to retaliate, he opened himself back up to another strike from Crowfeather.

Brambleclaw swore he saw stars before he shook it off. He couldn’t give Crowfeather the chance to get the advantage. Couldn’t give the other warrior time to plot.

Brambleclaw reared up on his hindlegs, revealing his soft belly but taking the weight off his injured shoulder, and hit Crowfeather upside the head, knocking him to the ground. He loomed over him, eyes narrowed to slits and fangs bared in a snarl.

“You really thought we’d just let you take our kits? Use them as hostages, raise them as your own—”

Pain split through Brambleclaw’s stomach, and he let out a cry and staggered. Only the worried shriek of his name from his kits let him keep his feet to face Crowfeather, who had rolled over and found his own feet again, one back paw gleaming.

Brambleclaw knew that even though he couldn’t see the blood against the black fur, that Crowfeather had ripped into his stomach with a single strong blow.

Despite being the cat to do it, Crowfeather’s gaze seemed almost sorrowful, ears tipped back and tail low—and then Daisy crashed into his back in one giant, hissing, spitting puffed up ball of fur. Crowfeather hissed back, and his claws scrabbled in the dirt, but Daisy was set firmly out of his reach, claws dug into his shoulders and haunches.

For a moment, Brambleclaw thought that might be how he died: Braced on shaky legs, blood dripping from his stomach, watching his old friend be torn apart by a furious queen. He wanted to move, to do something, anything, so that they could all live—him and his kits, Daisy and Crowfeather—but he was barely keeping his feet while standing still. He wasn’t sure he even had the energy left to do more than just breathe.

Then the thistle boundary rattled, and Sorreltail and Ferncloud burst into the nursery. Crowfeather crashed to his side, hurling Daisy to the ground, and then tore himself loose to dart between Sorreltail and Ferncloud once more and out into the center of camp.

None of the queens bothered chasing him. Ferncloud ran right to Brambleclaw and shoved her shoulder under his, while Daisy staggered past him, breath shaky, toward the kits. Sorreltail ran out of the nursery, but Brambleclaw could hear her calling for Leafpool.

“WindClan?” Brambleclaw asked. One of his paws slipped, but he caught himself. “Are they—?”

“Gone,” Ferncloud said. “That tom was the last. Lay down, Brambleclaw, it’s alright.”

Brambleclaw started to nod, but his vision blurred, so he settled for just following her directions instead. His legs folded over themselves, clumsy as a newborn kit, but with Ferncloud’s help he didn’t just fall down. She had even, he marveled at the softness, landed him in a nest. He inhaled the scent of lichen, poppyseeds, and oak.

“Squirrelflight will be upset her nest is bloody,” he said, but couldn’t stop himself from purring. He was in his mate’s nest, and his kits were—his kits were safe, right?

Brambleclaw fought to get his paws underneath himself again, when three little bundles hurtled into his chest one after another.

“Your kits are right here,” Ferncloud said. “Stay still. Leafpool! He’s right here.”

Pawsteps hurried his way, but not even the following flash of pain from pressure on his stomach could bring Brambleclaw to open his eyes. When had he closed them? Maybe—maybe when he laid down?

“Will Brambleclaw be alright?” a tiny voice asked. Hollykit.

Another voice scoffed. “He’ll be fine. The WindClan cat is gone, so there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Jaykit. Unsure, no matter how firm he tried to be.

“He’ll be fine,” a third voice echoed, more firmly than the second. Lionkit.

And then—“Brambleclaw?!” a fourth voice cried, and pawsteps thudded in the dirt beside him. “Kits?!” Squirrelflight.

Brambleclaw sighed, and the last of his fear left him as he slid into sleep.

“I’m sorry,” Squirrelflight whispered. “I should have been here.”

Cold seeped into his bones, and bodies pressed into his. Brambleclaw curled into himself, chin tucked around three kitten-sized pockets of warmth.

A paw slipped wet moss into his mouth, and someone nosed his forehead. “Thank you,” they breathed. “Thank you.”

Brambleclaw’s chin shifted up and down in a steady rhythm, and when he opened his eyes and looked down, a rusty purr rumbled through him. A pile of orange-gray-black kittens slept against him, their little stomachs rising and falling with each synchronized breath. Occasionally, Lionkit would let out a snort, joining in the chorus of Jaykit’s snores and Hollykit’s whistles.

An orange muzzle speckled with white freckles leaned into his view. Brambleclaw looked up into forest-green eyes, and he leaned up to meet his mate’s nuzzle with one of his own. The simple move drained him of more of his strength than he expected, but he didn’t regret it. Not when Squirrelflight laid down in front of him so they could stay eye-to-eye.

Not when she repeated, “I’m sorry. I should have been here,” and he could finally reply:

“You’re here now.”

Not when he fell asleep again with his family safe around him, and knew they would still be there when he woke again.

He didn’t know that through the forest and across the moor, Crowfeather lay alone. Thinking not of his own kit and mate in the nursery, but of a different litter. Of one kit with his black fur, and one with his long legs, and one with Leafpool’s golden stripes. Of an old friend bleeding into the dirt to protect them.

Of his own leader demanding he prove his loyalty.

Crowfeather squeezed his eyes shut, and knew no harm would come to his kits.

Not if he or Brambleclaw had any say in it.

We're all going to ignore I just wrote another fic where I gave Brambleclaw a gaping stomach wound, right? Right?

Anyway, I loved writing this mix of hurt Brambleclaw and Bramble!Dad kitten fluff (and blatant "the queens are BAMF" propaganda), and I hope you guys enjoyed reading it! Please comment and/or reblog if you did!

Also, just a general celebration: This fic pushes me over 50k words in my "Tumblr Prompt/Ask Box Fill" series! I posted the first fic more than four years ago, though I didn't really pick up speed on the series until 2020. Still, this is a major achievement for me, and I appreciate everyone who has ever given me a prompt--I've loved filling them, giving back to the fandom community, and practicing my writing all at once. Thank you!

#warrior cats fic #warrior cats #brambleclaw #squirrelbramble #squirrelflight #jayfeather #lionblaze #hollyleaf #crowfeather #power of three #fanfic #writing prompt #bookdancer34

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malkumtend · 1 year

Text

SquirrelCrow Drabble: Hope.

This is a continuation of my SquirrelCrow Drabble “Reaction”. Like before it takes place in a AU where Crowfeather left Windclan and joined Thunderclan to be with Squirrelflight.

...

There were no words.

For moons, that had been Crowfeather’s reply every time a classmate asked him how he was feeling; how he was taking the approaching, unbelievable, inescapable fact that he was going to be a father.

They asked him how he was feeling.

‘Are you excited?’

Crowfeather had to laugh every single time he was asked.

Excited.

Never before had a word sounded so true, but so incomplete.

The truth was it was impossible to describe the downpour of thoughts that flooded him every day. With every moon, day, and swing of his tail, something new knocked on his skull and shook his pelt.

The fear of the cold shadow his father had left on his young pelt; the idea that he too could turn out like that.

The staggering laughter that suddenly overcame him as he watched clanmates play so happily with their kits, and the image of him too taking part in such a privilege.

The sudden, but furious, urge to run straight to the nursery and make sure his mate, who rolled her eyes every single time but never complained, was as secure and strong as she could possibly be.

There was never a day Crowfeather truly felt like anything; this was so much more than that.

Nothing he’d learned as an apprentice or a warrior could prepare him for the undeniable future. For the first moon, he’d suffered through that knowledge. Nothing made Crowfeather angrier then the thought of being taken off his guard.

So many cats told him these feelings were normal, that it was only logical to be nervous or scared, but that he had nothing to worry about. Each of his clanmates had promised him these things. They’d also done everything they could to assure him that if any cat even thought of calling his kits anything over than Thunderclan, they’d make sure to take care of it.

They let him know he was welcome where he was.

That was a nice thought.

But as he noticed the shine of Greenleaf begin to fade, as he felt Leaf-fall’s cold breath over his pelt…

Nice thoughts did nothing to stop the menace of his own mind.

“You worry too much,” Squirrelflight’s tired voice had whispered into his ear the last time she’d found him chewing at his side in panic.

The tom slowly pulled himself up, a familiar prickle on his neck. “I worry just fine.”

“Mhm,” there was a chuckle in the ginger cat’s throat that almost sounded like a purr, “Clearly.”

“Maybe you don’t worry enough!”

“You know, I might actually be very happy about that.”

“Hmph!”

Squirrelflight rose her head from her side, letting out a small yawn. A low grunt escaped her as she pressed herself up, her firm stomach sliding beneath her as she drifted closer to her companion. She took a glance to the nursery entrance, where a bright shimmer of moonlight hazed through the bramble leaves. “Please tell me you’ve at least gotten a little sleep?”

Crowfeather chewed the inside of his cheek. “I’m fine.”

“That isn’t a yes.”

He cringed. “Fine. Yes.”

“I saw that.”

“Saw what?”

“That face you made. The one where you look like you’re about to cough up a hairball.”

Crowfeather’s muzzle creased up. “What are you going on about? I don’t do that!”

“There it is. The one you make when you lie.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Okay,” Squirrelflight gave him a pointed stare, “Have you gotten any sleep tonight?”

Just as he felt his jaws tense and his throat bob up and down, the dark tom turned away with a snort, half out of grumpiness, half out of guilt.

Despite the hot ringing in his ears, Crowfeather heard the quiet breath that fluttered against his ear, “Kitten, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Yeah… ” Crowfeather kept his gaze away, his face already growing hot. He knew where this was going.

“Don’t ‘yeah’ me,” Squirrelflight meowed, her tail swiping at his side, “You can’t just sulk when you know I’m right.” A silent moment later, her tail drapes under her chin as a small grin forms. “Oh, wait. I forgot who I was talking to.”

Crowfeather smiled a little, but not long enough for Squirrelflight to hold in her disappointed sigh.

He hated disappointing her. He was glad he was facing away or else he might just be sick.

The soft stroke of her tail on his back made his shoulders tense. “Crowfeather, come on. It’s going to be fine.”

Crowfeather let out a harsh breath. It’s going to be fine. Another mantra that sounded less certain each time he heard it.

“You’re not helping yourself by getting like this, Crowfeather,” Squirrelflight said, “Staying up all night fretting isn’t going to change anything.”

“I know that,” Crowfeather snapped, struggling to keep his voice level. “You’ve told me a hundred times.”

“Only because you’ve forgotten a thousand times,” Squirrelflight muttered. “Any more and Leafpool might kick you out of here herself.”

Crowfeather grumbled under his breath. He certainly wouldn’t put it past her. Even though him and Leafpool got along well enough, and she’d done everything in her power to speak on Crowfeather’s behalf when he’d first arrived, she was nowhere near as patient as her sister when it came to Crowfeather’s short temper. If it hadn’t been for her litter mate’s soft smile, he wasn’t sure the medicine cat would have ever allowed him to move into the nursery while Squirrelflight was expecting.

“You can go to the Warriors den, if you want. I’ll be fine.”

The grey tom looked up, a flash of worry in his blue eyes. “Do you want me to go?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“Am I bothering you?” Crowfeather felt his throat clench, “Have I been keeping you awake? Foxdung, of course I have, I’ll-”

“Crowfeather!” Squirrelflight smothered the tom’s muzzle with her tail. They both took a cautious look to the nursery's other sleeping queens, the molly sighing in relief as she saw they were undisturbed. They’d already given her a polite warning about her mate’s not-so-quiet muttering during the night, any more and Squirrelflight might start hearing Leafpool repeat them. “Just calm down for a moment.”

Crowfeather shook off the tail, his muzzle scrunched up with annoyance.

“If being here is only making you lose sleep, then you probably shouldn’t be here.” Truthfully, when Crowfeather begged Leafpool to let him sleep in the nursery, Squirrelflight couldn’t deny how her heart had swelled. In any other circumstance, she would never turn away the smooth coat she could nestle into each night.

Crowfeather dipped his head, his mouth in a thin line. “I’d lose sleep wherever I was.”

Squirrelflight sighed. “I swear sometimes you’re impossible.”

Crowfeather couldn’t help himself, “Only sometimes? Well, at least that makes me more tolerable than you.”

Though she let out a low growl, Crowfeather saw the edges of her lips curl up. An indignant scoff cracked out with one sly emerald eye, “Oh please, you know I’m amazing!”

He laughed, “I think I’m the only one in the clan who knows differently.”

“Oh hush, rabbit chaser!” She smirked before yawning once again. “It’s far too late for such mouse-dung.”

Crowfeather chuckled once again, then takes another look at Squirrelflight, at the dark ruffles under her eyes, at the way her ears look heavy as they twitch, at how her chest rose and fell; as if struggling to hold itself from the ground. Immediately, all the cheer drained out of the tom, replaced by a weight of remorse.

“I know it’s my own fault, Squirrel. But I can’t help it,” his back fur quivered. Squirrelflight looked at him, her wide eyes dimming. “If anything happened to you-”

“Nothing will.”

“If it did,” he carried on, “To you or the kits.” Softly, the tom’s words faded as his head began to drift to his forepaws. His tail betrayed him as it stiffened to the tip of the frazzled fur. “There would be nothing left.”

“Oh, don’t start with that. I’m not too tired to rake your ears, you know?” Squirrelflight mewed, her voice swift and stern. “You can’t just assume the worst all the time. It’s not mouse-brained to actually hope every now and then.”

Crowfeather tensed, his ears digging against his head.

He’d hoped before.

Feathertail.

Mudclaw.

…Ashfoot.

He wasn’t naive.

“Speak for yourself.”

“I do actually. Because I know I’m right.”

“Do you now?”

“Yeah,” something rubbed against the small of Crowfeather’s back, and he only opened his eyes when he felt a warmth swell against his chest, spreading under his chin, “It got me here, didn’t it?”

The tom exhaled slowly, fighting the urgent need to smile as he felt the gentle nuzzle aimed at his throat. He must have been more obvious than he wished, as Squirrelflight only pursued in her quest with a soft groom across his jawline.

“Come on,” she hummed, tickling his throat, “You know you want to?”

He did want to. Desperately.

But he relented a little longer, a low sound trembling in his throat even as he relaxed against the weight against him.

Squirrelflight let out a disappointed mew. “Honestly Crowfeather, I don’t see what you’re so worried about. Thunderclan hasn’t lost any kits since we left the old territories. You shouldn’t convince yourself that’s going to change just because they’re our kits.”

Thunderclan.

Crowfeather didn’t say anything. Perhaps that was what made Squirrelflight’s ears and whiskers twitch. He felt her shift away to look up at him. There was no reason he should look back at her; no reason that would help him anyway. His ears sank further down, no longer irritable.

Worse than that.

Frightened.

He hoped she wouldn’t notice.

Of course, she did.

“Crowfeather,” the softness in her voice was not unusual, but the consideration, the low murmur that sounds like a shiver in the cold, that was. She saw it. “Is all of this something to do with Thunderclan?”

“No.”

She paused. “Windclan?”

“…”

He felt her head drop down a little.

“Is it common?” There was no worry in her voice, not even the smallest tremble. He turned, astounded when he saw her eyes twinkling patiently in the darkness.

Sympathy. The honest will to listen.

The tom felt his heart clench. He knew that even if he kept his mouth shut, turned away and refused to speak to her until the next morning, she wouldn’t protest. Yes, she’d make sure to give him some kind of punishment in the near future, but she would always respect his choice. They had gotten so far because of their choices, they had nothing but trust in each other.

The low murmur made its way to his throat again, but when it emerged it was nothing but a brittle whine.

He wanted to somehow sink his claws into the thousands of battling words in his mouth until he could pick the easiest answer. The ones that wouldn’t give way to the most terrifying thoughts he had - the ones he knew why he felt.

But if he did that, he knew that he’d somehow find a way to lie to her.

And she doesn’t deserve that.

“Not common,” he sounded like his throat was lined with dust, “Most moons went by without too many losses. But when it came to…” He tried to ignore the sudden cold. “Leaf-Bare or Leaf-Fall? There’s not much protection from the cold in the moors. Of course, we tried to prepare. There’s a whole patrol sent just to gather moss or bird feathers, anything warm. Usually, it kept most of the kits safe. But… when it came to the smallest ones. They’re still so frail that they…”

A paw fell over his, mercifully letting him stop.

Squirrelflight didn’t say anything, but the touch of their paws and the way she let him sink into her pelt was enough for him.

“Every moon?”

“More or less.”

He felt a tail wind over his, and he twisted - terrified that he’d frightened her.

Starclan knew he was aware of how frightening it was. Even in Thunderclan, he still found himself plagued by nightmares that echoed the despaired yowls he’d sometimes heard from the Windclan apprentice den.

Though recently, those nightmares had taken on a new voice.

But here, in flesh and blood, he found her gazing up, a small frown on her soft muzzle, her eyes swimming with tenderness. She leaned up, grooming his cheek delicately.

She was about to speak, he knew. But he couldn’t let her do that. Not yet. Not until she knew everything.

“My littermates.”

He felt Squirrelflight tense, he heard her breath catch.

“There were four of us,” he said, just about forcing the distant, ghostly feeling of three ice-cold pelts into the dark. He allowed himself a grim chuckle. “I remember when you all called me under-sized. I’m trying to imagine your faces if I’d told you I was the largest of my-”

“Okay,” Squirrelflight cut in, her voice soft with mercy. “It’s alright. You don’t need to say anything else.”

That was good. Because Crowfeather didn’t want to say anything else. When he was young he’d never brought it up, did all he could to never even think about it. Not because of any trauma that he suffered, though.

He just always remembered the look on Ashfoot’s face whenever someone accidentally brought it up.

That look, broken and miserable, that no son wanted to see on his mother’s face.

That look that he always saw, now mixed with a furious grief, whenever he crossed her on the border these days.

Crowfeather had promised himself that he’d never regret his choices. He did what he did because he knew he’d be happy. No matter the consequences, no matter the losses, that singular victory - their victory - was enough to make him certain that he would never look back in regret.

If Starclan themselves had dragged him back to the point where he’d made that choice. He knew that he’d do it all - face it all - over again.

He’d choose her every time.

So when he did find himself looking back, what struck him square in the chest was not regret.

But whatever it was.

Crowfeather hated it so much.

And he sat there, waiting for Squirrelflight to scold him for speaking about such things when she was expecting herself, to spite him for bringing Windclan’s curse into Thunderclan, into her.

Then he felt her paw stroke the bottom of his muzzle, leading him back to her forgiving - no - glowing smile. Her white paw felt like cool snow as it traced over his whiskers. After a moment of tension, Crowfeather leaned into the touch, submitting to his mate’s contact.

“I’m sorry, Crowfeather,” he heard her whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”

“Kind of a morbid thing to bring up,” Crowfeather muttered cynically, “I never really thought about it before…” He sighed, trying not to look at the present truth of Squirrelflight’s mounded belly. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“It wouldn’t have worried me. The only thing I’ve been worried about is you.”

Crowfeather looked at her quizzically; had she not been listening to him? “But your health-”

“Is something I can handle on my own,” She gave him a playful grin, “You know as well as I do I wouldn’t let myself be cooped up in this nursery unless I knew they were on the way?”

Crowfeather blinked, then he looked away with a betraying chuckle. That was true. Squirrelflight wasn’t exactly secretive about her feelings when she was left out of patrols. She might have hated lazing about doing nothing more than Sandstorm.

A lightness rushed into Crowfeather’s throat as thought back to Squirrelflight demanding dawn patrols, ignoring the tired, exasperated pleas of Firestar as he tried not to blatantly mention his daughter’s swollen stomach.

“I still can’t believe your father allowed you to go on so many hunting patrols?”

Squirrelflight snorted, smugness frazzling over her back fur. “He knows there’s no one more reliable than me, that’s why! Besides the kits wanted to know what patrols were like. Who else could teach them but their mother?”

“Oh, and they told you that did they?” The lightness breezed out of Crowfeather’s laughter, tingling over his face as he began to smile.

“I could feel it.”

“Sure you could.”

Squirrelflight straightened up, exposing her stomach a little, grinning, “You can doubt me as much as you like as soon as you’re the one carrying a litter.”

“Is that what you’re doing? I thought you’d spent too much time at the fresh-kill pile.”

Usually, Crowfeather would have earned a jesting, but still painful swipe across the ear for jokes like that. But to his surprise, Squirrelflight only covered her mouth as she struggled to hold back her laugh.

“Mouse-brain,” she breathed out, her eyes sparkling happily as she looked back up at him.

Crowfeather smiled back at her, before his breath caught once more. How was it so easy to forget everything he knew he should think about after just a moment of her smile? She’d always been like that for him. After Feathertail. After Mudclaw. When everything was so much, ensnaring him like a spider-web cocoon, choking him and daring him to deny that everything was wrong, she came along. Smiling so easily. Walking through the darkness, not trying to swipe it away like a bad dream like so many of his clanmates had done before.

No. She was perfectly content to just sit with him. To let him know that, even if she couldn’t silence the buzzing in his head, she was more than happy to be a warm shoulder all the same.

She’d done it when they were acquaintances at best.

She’d done it as his best friend.

And she did it now.

Because that was who she was.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he didn’t look away this time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d meant to say those words out loud, but he knew he wasn’t going to hide it from her. He wanted to hope, so desperately. But hope was too terrifying for him to trust.

Squirrelflight locked her eyes with his, her mouth softening into a small line. She took a small breath, “Crowfeather, I know who you are. I know what you’re like, and for some reason I’ll never understand I wouldn’t change that for all of Silverpelt. But, just this once, I really just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. I’m just-”

“No, I want you to be happy for yourself.”

That took all of the wind out of Crowfeather’s chest. Happy for himself? Why was that important?

“What?”

“Let me ask you a question: what do you think of when you see nothing going wrong? What do you see when you think about everything about our kits going right?”

If everything went right?

The tom stopped, his fur lying flat, and his eyes widening as he realised that the thought had never come to him before. Not truly. Not when there was so much that-

His tail lashed. No. That wasn’t what Squirrelflight had asked him to do. He had to try. He owed her that much.

Crowfeather closed his eyes, unconsciously allowing his chest to gently sway like a river, and tried with all his might to picture what ‘right’ truly looked like.

“I…I want to teach them everything I know. If they’re going to be Warriors I want to help them be even stronger than me.”

“That wouldn’t be too hard,” Crowfeather let a simple groan keep him from opening his eyes, “Anything else? What if any of them want to be a medicine cat?”

“A medicine cat?” Crowfeather’s lips pursed, there was no way he’d be able to help with that. He didn’t know the first thing about herbs!

But, if that was what they wanted.

He smiled, “Well, then they’ll have a good mentor!”

He heard Squirrelflight laugh, “The very best!”

“Might end up being better than Leafpool!”

“Okay, I am so going to tell her you said that!”

“Hey, it’s a compliment!”

“Are you sure she’ll see it that way?”

Crowfeather chuckled, albeit a little uneasily, “Please don’t.”

“All right, then keep thinking.”

Crowfeather obeyed, watching the pictures in his mind’s eye change like leaves, “I want them to have the best mentors they could ever get. Ones that will make them the pride of the clan. No, in all the forest! I want to watch them come with me on patrol one day. I want to teach them hunting-” He snorted, “Actually I might leave that to you!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she teased, “I might still be busy teaching you how to catch sparrows!”

“Well, they’ll be begging you to take them soon enough,” he still didn’t open his eyes when he felt the tail curl over his back, “I’m sure of that.”

“And?”

The dark tom thought. What else was there? Everything in his power he’d mentioned already.

Everything else.

What had he wanted growing-

Two blue eyes opened, flashing gently in the dark.

“I…”, his voice was soft, “I want to know who they want to be. The friends they meet. The cats they fall in love with. Their hobbies, their goals.” Crowfeather turned back to Squirrelflight, meeting her eyes so simply as his voice came out in a clear whisper, “I want them to know I’ll be happy no matter what. I just want to watch it all happen.”

Now it was Squirrelflight’s eyes that closed, as she nodded smoothly. “That’s it,” a small breath of clear, resounding relief blew out of her muzzle as she gazed back up into Crowfeather’s eyes, “I want exactly the same thing.”

The moonlight flickered outside as unseen clouds passed, quivering around the medicine den in a flash of light and dark.

Squirrelflight continued, “I know you’re scared, kitten. Believe me, I am as well,” she looked down at her stomach with a serene glow, “I’ve thought about it just as much as you. But, in the end, we can only do so much. We just have to trust ourselves that it’s enough.”

Crowfeather’s ears flattened down again. Was that really it? “But what if that’s not enough?”

“Do you trust me?”

He didn’t hesitate, “Of course.”

She didn’t hesitate either. A paw wrapped around Crowfeather’s shoulders, beginning to pull him downwards. He was about to turn and protest when his cheek nudged against a soft warmth. Before he could even utter a word he heard a soft heartbeat swell against his ear.

His eyes searched up, finding Squirrelflight looking softly back at him, her head craned up calmly as she lay on her side. He felt the amused purr rumble somewhere in her chest. “ I trust you. I trust the clan, my sister, my parents, and I trust us,” her eyes closed as she flashed a tired, unsure, but loving, toothy smile, “It’s gotten us this far right.”

Crowfeather wasn’t sure what to say, what to do, wanting to believe her so badly - but just so unsure, so frightened. He knew how much thinking could hurt him, how much denying the peace of his heart truly tore him apart. But he was powerless. He couldn’t stop what was real.

Then something pulsed.

Crowfeather grew still. His eyes found his mate’s again and she gave him a wobbly smile. She could feel it too.

He listened, underneath the natural gurgles and beats of Squirrelflight’s body, something rippled and muttered in a quiet, patient space.

It could have been anything, a chill on his back, a quiver of fur, it could have even just been his immature want making him believe in something more.

But Crowfeather believed it was something else.

Breathing, beating, life.

Maybe it was false hope, maybe it was a sinking dream, maybe Crowfeather would be pulled back under the waves until he saw sense in his despair.

But the truth was, he was sick of ignoring how happy he was.

Here, pressed against his mate, listening to where they were, hoping for what lied ahead, this was where he was. And he was happy. Right?

“Right.” He said, listening to his kits unseen movements as a gentle paw brushed against his cheek.

The night had finally descended into a heavy, gentle murmur as Crowfeather let out a long breath of air, smiling against Squirrelflight as he listened to the sound of the future.

...

Hey everybody.

I guess I’m back.

#squirrelflight #crowfeather #squirrelcrow #crowsquirrel #warriors #warrior cats #warrior cats au #warrior cats fic

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wambsgansshoelaces · 5 months

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if anyone is questioning my fanfic writing skills, my first fic was a handwritten warrior cat fic I wrote when I was seven

#this is probably the coolest thing about me #warrior cats #warrior cats fic #kind of embarrassing #but yk this is funny

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eeveearoace-creative · 1 year

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a fluffy little thing this time :> just the kittens having some fun!

cat fic time! pspspsps!: @peachpaws0

[if you want to be added/removed from the amphibia and/or warriors tag list(s), just let me know!!]

#wc fic #wc #warriors #warriors fic #warrior cats #warrior cats fic #kaivee's warriors fic #fanfic #my fanfic #writing #my writing

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krowfics · 2 years

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A Spider’s Shadow Chapter 9

Fandom: Warrior cats/Sander Sides

Ships: Prinxiety, Logicality, Dukeceit, otherwise platonic LAMP, familial Creativitwins+Thomas -eventual remile and eventual carrot kings but they will take a while-

Plot: Spiderpaw is the sole witness to a murder, due to this, he is no longer safe in Shadowclan. He soon finds himself amongst a group of secret rebels who disagree with the Warrior Code.

Words this chapter: 2115

Notes: Warriors typical violence/hunting, unsympathetic/morally gray Janus and Remus... that unsympathetic warning is getting less and less believable isn’t it? Remus is Remus but it’s not that bad.

look! i finally finished proofreading it! that is to say i gave up because everytime i looked there were more typos lmao

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8

~~~

"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the highledge for a clan meeting." Redstar's voice called first thing in the morning. Enough cats were awake for it, and he likely wanted to get his announcements out of the way before morning patrol left.

Lionbright found himself next to Spiderpaw, who was sitting patiently as cats gathered around. Well, patiently but nervously. Lionbright was exactly sure why, being that Redstar already confirmed that he could stay, but Spiderpaw always seemed a little bit nervous about everything, so Lionbright just rested his tail over the other's shoulder in hopes that he could relax.

"As many of you have heard, Nightstar hunts with Starclan now." Redstar started, Lionbright shuffled minutely closer when he felt Spiderpaw tense up next to him. "According to Acorntail, it appeared to have been her own choice, but we know that is not the case."

There were murmurs throughout the crowd, many eyes went right to Spiderpaw, knowing he was connected somehow.

"As promised, I will explain why Spiderpaw is here, I thank you for not informing cats from other clans of him being here. Spiderpaw witnessed Snakestar taking Nightstar's last lives. I agreed to allow him to stay, given that we received word of Nightstar's death to confirm and now we have."

He turned his gaze to the small apprentice then, "Do you still wish to stay and continue your training in Thunderclan?"

Spiderpaw nodded despite his clear unease, "Yes."

"Then you will need a mentor." Redstar said softly.

Lionbright hadn't thought about that. Who would Redstar pick? He'd have to make someone train two apprentices as the clan was full of 'paws, all the seasoned warriors already had a cat to train.

"Lionbright." The cat in question looked up to his father. Lionbright blinked blankly. What? Why was his name said? He was supposed to step forward wasn’t he? He should do that. Why was his name called?

Lionbright carefully removed his tail from his friend’s shoulders and stood, stepping forward towards Redstar.

“Lionbright,” He repeated, “You are ready to take on an apprentice.” Lionbright felt like he swallowed his tongue, “You have received excellent training from Fernstorm, and you have shown yourself to be brave and caring. You will be the mentor of Spiderpaw, and I expect you to pass on all you know to him.”

Lionbright could barely comprehend what was going on. He suddenly realized that Spiderpaw - his ‘paw - his apprentice, was standing next to him again. He hadn’t expected to get an apprentice until Blossumfur’s future kits turned six moons old. But he has an apprentice now, and not just any apprentice, he was going to train his friend!

He turned to Spiderpaw then, barely able to contain his excitement. Spiderpaw gazed at him softly, giving him a slow blink which sent his chest fluttering. They both stepped closer and touched noses.

The crowd was quiet outside of a few murmurs. They stepped back and just looked at each other, Lionbright shuffled a bit in place, his tail sticking straight up in joy.

“Spiderpaw!” Someone called, both him and Lionbright looked to see Newtclaw yowling from just outside the elders den.

“Spiderpaw!” Beetlestrike repeated next to him. It wasn’t a naming ceremony, but it was half of one, and the rest of the clan picked up on it.

It was quieter than Lionrbight’s ceremony’s cheers, he noticed distantly, but plenty of cats called out the new Thunderclan apprentice’s name and Spiderpaw looked just a bit excited beyond his nerves.

"Also," Redstar said, once the cheering had calmed down a bit, "Ratpaw is missing again. Fernstorm may now begin organizing the patrols." He turned suddenly and returned to his den.

Lionbright held back a scoff. His brother missed his first apprentice ceremony, because of course he did! He's Ratpaw, he doesn't care about anyone or anything, least of all his own kin.

Spiderpaw licked his chest, likely embarrassed from so many cats calling his name. It was almost adorable. He glanced up to Lionbright, “Well then, any plans for your first day as a mentor?” He asked.

“Oh, oh um, no.” Lionbright mewed, still excitedly shuffling his feet where he stood, “Redstar didn’t give me any warning, but um, a tour? A tour of the territory is usually the first thing, I think. Do you wanna do that?”

“I would.” Said his apprentice. His apprentice!

“Let’s- Oh, do you want to eat something first? I’m not really hungry but walking sounds like it might take a while.”

“I can wait.” Spiderpaw said, he might’ve been holding back laughter, but Lionbright paid no mind.

“Then, let’s go.”

They made their way to the clan’s entrance, with Lionbright making a quick stop in front of the deputy to inform her that he'll be out of camp for a while.

Lionbright had an extra hop in his step he couldn't seem to stifle but he didn't mind, "Where do you wanna go first? The borders? The owl tree? Oh, I can show you the places to gather moss, that'd probably be helpful."

"It's your territory, you show me whatever you want to show me first." Spiderpaw said, he sounded distinctly like he was holding back a laugh.

Lionbright turned to him with a grin, "It's your territory too now."

"Yes," Spiderpaw huffed fondly, "But I also don't know where anything is, just pick a place and I'll follow."

Lionbright hummed, "Okay." he nodded, turning towards the lake. They could start there and make their way around Thunderclan territory.

Lionbright was downright giddy showing his friend everything. The best places to find moss, his favorite places to hunt, the training grounds where the forest floor was caked in thick moss, making it perfect for battle training. And also laying on after being exhausted by battle training.

In fact, he should demonstrate just how useful the training grounds were now. The moss was a familiar feeling under his feet, he hadn't spent any time ther since being an apprentice himself. Warriors were, of course, allowed to use the area, but he often found himself too busy to.

He had at least wanted to have a practice fight or two with Ratpaw, maybe teach his medicine cat sibling a few of the more complicated moves he doubted Frostpool had taught him, let alone if she knew them herself. But the thought of his littlermate did nothing more than dig a pit in his gut now.

"It's soft." Spiderpaw said, astonished.

Lionbright returned his attention to the tom, who was staring wide eyed at the ground and shifting on his paws.

"That's what makes it such a good location for training." Lionbright mewed.

Spiderpaw stepped forward, putting weight on the extended paw to feel the squish of the moss underneath. "We don't have any place like this in Shadowclan," he explained distractedly, "Little kits just play in the bedding and by the time they're apprentices they're used to taking hits to the ground."

Lionbright blinked dumbly, "Oh, that sounds a bit … harsh." Maybe not every clan was lucky enough for such an area, still, he'd worry about the chaffing alone from such training. It would be fine for play fighting, kits wouldn't make it to be warriors if they couldn't handle that, but genuine training from a full-grown warrior? Frostpool would never stop lecturing everyone about all the injuries.

Lionbright shook himself, attempting to lighten the mood, "Next you're gonna tell me that they get used to claws then to."

Spiderpaw looked up then, tilting his head in confusion, "They do."

"They…As apprentices?"

"Well, yeah," Spiderpaw said, "As kits too, usually, play fighting and all. No one ever really used their claws on me, Nightstar got a bit nervous whenever I was injured "

He shifted, looking down at his paws again, though Lionbright thought it might be for another reason. He stepped towards his apprentice and pressed their sides together, "Lets go to the next area.'' He suggested softly, Spiderpaw nodding, sticking close to his side for a bit as they traveled through the forest.

At the very end of their tour, Lionbright led Spiderpaw to the outer border. "Badgers and foxes sometimes show up around here so we usually patrol every other day or so. I wouldn't go too far out of the territory," he explained, "There's a thunder path full of monsters once you get too far out."

Spiderpaw looked downright scared at the mention of monsters, "I don't think I want to go out there at all."

Lionbright nodded. Even as a kit he knew to stay far away from the outer border, even if he paid little mind to the rule of kits not leaving camp.

"Come on." Lionbright said, turning, "We should head back to camp and eat something. I can practically hear a sparrow chirping my name."

Spiderpaw started after him but stopped. The warrior was just about to ask him why when he smelled it. Stuffy herbs mixed with sickening twoleg stuff and just a hint of other cats. He could barely parse out the Thunderclan on him.

A barely tamed fury ran through Lionbright, he fought for his shackles not to rise.

Ratpaw was trotting towards them, not a care in all the forest and beyond. He hadn't seemed to notice them yet, looking around at his surroundings instead, with the way the wind was heading he likely hadnt smelled their scent either.

He startled slightly when he saw them, only to pick up his pace, “Oh hello, dear littermate!” he said jollyly, “Have we reevaluated the rule on not letting kits out of camp?” he said, tilting his head to the other cat.

Lionbright stepped forward with a scowl, “I’m taking my apprentice on a tour of the territory.”

Ratpaw paused at that, his calm demeanor stiffened, eyes widening, “Your apprentice?”

He just stared at his brother. He almost wanted to unsheathe his claws and make the other’s betrayal known. He had thought, as unlikely as it was, that Ratpaw wouldn’t want to miss his achievements despite everything. But here he was now, with not an apology to show. Lionbright turned, “We’re heading back now, I suggest you come along.”

Refusing to look back, he only knew that Spiderpaw had followed when the apprentice bounded up to his side. He got confirmation that Ratpaw followed by the faint sound of occasional crunching leaves and the fact that his scent lingered even after a few paces. Lionbright didn't want to turn around to see but he was fairly certain the medicine cat was keeping his distance a few cat-lengths back.

He stepped through the clan entrance fuming, Spiderpaw sticking close to his side.

"Caught something! Though it smells like crowfood." Lionbright announced to no one in particular. Sheepbelly had heard and seemed to take it as a cue to run up to highledge, Redstar peered out a moment later.

"Ratpaw."

"Uh yeah?" he drawled like he hadn't vanished without a trace to go frolicking wherever he frolicked.

"Would you like to explain your absence?"

"Not particularly, no."

Redstar sighed, "I don't know what to do with you, Ratpaw"

"Talk about a lack of creativity! ‘Cause I can think of plenty, cast me out of the clan, kill me in my sleep, make me eat crowfood, or y'know, make me a warrior." He ground out the last part, "But, oh no! We mustn't go against our precious Starclan-"

"Ratpaw. You are not to leave camp for the time being."

"Oh, I've never heard that one before." Ratpaw said, his mew dripping with sarcasm.

Redstar just rolled his eyes and returned to his den, Lionbright could hardly blame him.

The warrior had led his apprentice to the fresh kill pile and was half heartedly looking for something to eat, though recent events seemed to have killed his appetite.

He twitched his ear at someone approaching but didn't turn to look.

"I didn't mean to miss the ceremony." Ratpaw said quietly.

"So you snuck out on accident?" Lionbright asked.

Ratpaw opened his mouth to reply but an angry meow cut him off, "Ratpaw, you get over here this instant!"

All three toms turned to see Frostpool standing near her den.

Ratpaw's face scrunched up and Lionbright almost thought he was going to start hissing.

"It's not fair." He bit out instead and walked to his mentor who was likely about to give him an earful.

Spiderpaw said nothing, just sidled up next to him and pressed their sides together. Lionbright rested his tail on the others back almost instinctively, though he was certain the gesture was more for comforting himself than the other this time.

~~~

posting this at 2am because my sleep schedule is excellent and not at all messed up

Tags~ @perfectly-princely-emo-nightmare @wasinotwantedatthisexactsecond

#thekrowiswriting #sanders sides #warrior cats #warrior cats fic #prinxiety #dukeceit #demus #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #fanfiction #A Spider’s Shadow

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