[ umm this is loosely timed around the aftermath thread! @Periwinklebreeze. @DEATHKIT @Witherkit @/frightkit , no need to wait for them! ]
Nightingalecry feels her shoulders weep with blood from stinging wounds. She doesn't even know who she's faced off with, in truth. The details are fuzzy. What she does remember is far off - a silver and black tail flagging from the gorse wall, racing away with the others of Sootstar's hounds. It had hurt then, and for the time in the interim, Nightingalecry had been scared to check the nursery. She spent it checking the camp entrance, talking (loosely) with the cats that didn't look at her too oddly - until finally, she couldn't hold back anymore. She had to know.
Her heart shatters as it collides against the cold, hard ground. A queen rests loosely around a bunch of kittens - her kittens, her little, fuzzy furred babies. Their litter.
"Where...?" She breathes, and every exhale hurts, as if she's run a marathon. The queen looks upon her solemnly, their own pelt tousled in the fight. A light apology lifted through the air, but no true explanation. Nightingalecry isn't sure she wants one. Everything hurts and she lurches closer. He left - just so easily, he left. They disagreed on so much, this was inevitable - so why does it hurt? "May I?" she asks, and the queen nods and steps aside momentarily.
Nightingalecry dips into the nest, curling tight around her three kittens. She wants to sob, everything in her throat and chest begging her to, but she doesn't. She won't have milk for these young, leaf bare souls - never will - and soon she'll have to pass them on to a queen who does. Her ears fold back as she makes quiet, hopeful promises. She does not pay close attention to other children lingering about, nor the warriors that might've dipped in to check on the nursery.
Nightingalecry feels her shoulders weep with blood from stinging wounds. She doesn't even know who she's faced off with, in truth. The details are fuzzy. What she does remember is far off - a silver and black tail flagging from the gorse wall, racing away with the others of Sootstar's hounds. It had hurt then, and for the time in the interim, Nightingalecry had been scared to check the nursery. She spent it checking the camp entrance, talking (loosely) with the cats that didn't look at her too oddly - until finally, she couldn't hold back anymore. She had to know.
Her heart shatters as it collides against the cold, hard ground. A queen rests loosely around a bunch of kittens - her kittens, her little, fuzzy furred babies. Their litter.
"Where...?" She breathes, and every exhale hurts, as if she's run a marathon. The queen looks upon her solemnly, their own pelt tousled in the fight. A light apology lifted through the air, but no true explanation. Nightingalecry isn't sure she wants one. Everything hurts and she lurches closer. He left - just so easily, he left. They disagreed on so much, this was inevitable - so why does it hurt? "May I?" she asks, and the queen nods and steps aside momentarily.
Nightingalecry dips into the nest, curling tight around her three kittens. She wants to sob, everything in her throat and chest begging her to, but she doesn't. She won't have milk for these young, leaf bare souls - never will - and soon she'll have to pass them on to a queen who does. Her ears fold back as she makes quiet, hopeful promises. She does not pay close attention to other children lingering about, nor the warriors that might've dipped in to check on the nursery.