a heart broken and torn | return



Why had she thought she could actually save Sparkkit? Why did she think she would be anything but useless in this Starclan forsaken position that they had dumped upon her? It's one tragedy after another and she feels it rippling through her body. It's taken some time to get back to camp because unlike her frantic racing through the marshes she's walked. She's let the defeat, the shame, the bitterness, the utter sadness spread through her being and she's wept for them. She wept for the kit that she could not save, she's wept for the life she ultimately failed to keep here because of how useless she's become. Her heart aches and she wishes things could be different with this tiny bundle and she realizes then that it is so unfair to have a clan of cats reliant upon her. Putting their lives in her paws that had only known how to cause death. The small cold corpse keeps bringing her mind in a loop of self loathing hatred as she walks along the marshes. Eyes far off and distant, the burning in them now only a weak flickering flame. She knows what is to come next, it's only plausible, no, no reasonable that it happens. Bloodshot eyes from tears spilled look at the entrance of brambles and bracken. Home. But no longer for Sparkkit.

Starclan has them now.

So she steps through the tunnel with her tail dragging against the ground. Limbs feeling so heavy almost like they hurt she takes her steps to the middle of camp and gently she lays the tiny bundle upon the ground. There was no help for Sparkkit and she holds that sorrow in her chest. "Sandra...." She calls for the queen then as she slowly sits down, her voice sounding worn and broken. It takes a longer moment still and she breaths in sharply. "Sandra I'm so sorry. I tried but...there was nothing that could be done. Sparkkit...they passed before..." Her jaw clenches then and she looks down at the small creature who had been a live just moments before. "I couldn't.....It's my fault." She moves away from the corpse now and she remembers what Beesong told her, how to cover the scent of death and she looks back out of camp. Rosemary and mint. She needs that stuff....

Since Bonejaw left with his littermate, Granitekit hasn't known what to do. He doesn't want to look at Ghostkit or Starlingkit, doesn't want to hear anyone talk or look at his mother fretting and crying. So after the ShadowClan medicine cat leaves camp, he stalks away from the nursery, towards the edge where Bonejaw had left, and he waits. He rubs his paw pads raw on the earth, shuffling them over and over out of some strange need to fidget.

He can't name the emotion that's bubbling in his belly. It's something like fear, though. He knows fear. It's when he wakes up from nightmares, panting and squeaking, and has to cuddle besides his siblings for comfort, seek Sandra's flank for reassurance. His nightmares are bad.

But somehow this is worse, because it's real. Spark-kit is really sick this time.

He waits, and waits, and waits, giving angry glares to any older cat who orders him to go to his mother. He refuses. Granitekit does not want to be around any of them. He does not want to be comforted or have to comfort. He wants Bonejaw to come back with Spark-kit. Then he can go back to playing and being a kit.

But when she pours like sullen liquid through the gorse tunnel, a tiny tabby shape in her mouth, Granitekit feels his blood freeze. She walks past him, presumably headed for Sandra, and he stares after her.

"I tried but... there was nothing that could be done. Spark-kit... they passed before..."

Granitekit clenches his jaw. The anxiety simmers into a vapor of fury that hangs over his gray and white body. He stalks toward Bonejaw with his tail sticking up straight behind him. He quivers and yells, "What did you do to my sibling!" His voice cracks, but only slightly. "Where did you go with them! How come when you left they were alive and now they're NOT!"

He knew, he knew Bonejaw wasn't good for anything. Spark-kit's body is all the proof he needs.


Fire had been waiting as well. The molly looked worried as time ticked by without a sign of Bonejaw or Sparkkit.

Her emerald gaze flickered to Granitekit, the young tom-kit sits and waits like a dutiful knight for his littermate to return. The sound of the entrance rustling would cause her to snap her attention away from the kit, but the sight wasn't one she was hoping for. The medicine cat looked so defeated, and Sparkkit hung limply from her jaws. Fire felt the grief tighten her throat, especially when Granitekit demanded answers fueled by anger and loss.

He didn't know. He couldn't understand, Bonejaw was still just a cat, they had only just become a healer, but the fiery molly was sure that the she-cat had done all she could have for the little kitten she carried home.

When Bonejaw moved away from the tiny body, Fire would solemnly walk over, taking a moment to touch her nose to the kittens' now cold form as a final goodbye before moving to try and brush against Bonejaw in comfort. She wouldn't as anything at first, the look on the medicine cat's face was enough for her to see she was beating herself up over it all. She wouldn't listen to any reassurances Fire had to say right now.

She would notice Bonejaw look over to the entrance again and she would murmur softly, "Do you need something, Bonejaw? Do you want me to go with you to get it?"


The sweet queen paced back and forth in front of the nursery, eventually settling down so her son could cuddle against her side, but her tail twitched with anxcious intent. They will be okay, they had to be okay. Bonejaw knew what she was doing right? She could get help! They would come trotting through the entrance of camp without a single sickly smell to them. Sparkkit had always been rather sick since being born. They always had a cough, a runny nose, they where small and frail- the runt of the litter. Sandra thought though it was something they'd grown out of, something that would pass, not something like this. The queen lapped at her sons head in comfort, but who was she really comforting? Herself or Granitekit? It was hard to tell.

The white spined she-cat finally emerged from the entrance, and Sandra rushed to her feet with wide amber eyes. "Bonejaw-," She started but halted her words as the medicine cat spoke. It felt like the world crashed down around her. Her chest felt tight like her heart was trying to escape its confines of her ribcage. Hot tears threatened in his cinnamon face, blinking as they trailed down her cheeks. Passed? They couldn't have passed! They where fine just yesterday! "No, there has to be something-," The queens words croaked, choking on her own sorrow as Granitekit hissed.

Her little grey tomcat yelled at Bonejaw, claiming she had done something to Sparkkit cause they had been in fact alive before she left. Where did she go? Was it someplace that helped Sparkkit or someplace that hurt them? The cinnamon queen moved to curl her tail around Granitekit, pull him back to her- her little baby boy. "Granitekit, its okay, Sparkkit has always been sick," She tried to reason, but at the same time agreed with her son. Did Bonejaw actually try? Wasn't there more that could've been done? What was Sparkkit sick with that their medicine cat couldn't heal?

Sandra didn't respond when Bonejaw spoke of it being her fault. Part of the sweet queen agreed, it was Bonejaws fault. She was suppose to heal, to help, and her child died because of her lack of knowledge. What was the point in Starclan appointing her as such if she couldn't help a sick kitten? Sandra looked back to her other two children, Siltkit and Twilightkit, and beckoned them over so she could hold them close. This was all her own fault as well. She shouldn't done more, taken Sparkkit in sooner, but yet she failed. Failed as a mother and let her child die.
[ Love Thyself Before Loving Another ]
Bonejaw is back. Her breath comes out heavy, her voice is dull. She isn't feeling good and...

Spark-kit isn't moving.

They're not feeling good. Bonejaw isn't feeling good and neither is Granitekit. No one feels good, they're upset. Their faces all droop like rain-watered leaves. He doesn't like it, when others look like that. He shakes his head at Sandra's words. She's lying because she's sad... Lying was never good, mama said so. "It's Bonejaw's fault..." he says, merely repeating her own words. If Bonejaw said it's her fault, why shouldn't he believe her? "You gotta say sorry to them now, good kits say sorry..." he tells her. He can feel his eyelids drooping, down, down...

He lips pull downward at Granitekit's display. Angry, angry, he didn't feel good. His fur bristled and his voice rose as he yelled. Ghost glances around the clearing. He needed something for Spark-kit, to make their ghost happy and smile big and bright. Ghost picks a flower on the edge of camp. It's small, but it's nice and yellow, like the sun. The sun hurts sometimes.

Ghost holds it in his jaws, and he waits his turn. Granitekit would be upset if he interrupted him... he's patient. He's a good kit. He can say buh-bye after Granitekit does... Gentle, gentle, or the petals will fall. White paws shuffle in the dirt. This is not a good day...
The vitriol directed at his aunt is disgusting. Pitch's lips curl into a sneer, trying to push himself between the growing crowd and Bonejaw. There is a protective flame that flickers within amber depths. No one would talk to his aunt like that. Especially when she isn't the one at fault. She'd done everything that she could for Sparkkit, she'd played the game as best she could with the cards she'd been dealt. Bonejaw has no medical knowledge prior to being thrust into this role by the dead.

"It's not Bonejaw's fault," Pitch levels a glare towards Ghost, a warning for the kit to shut up. Ghost knows nothing about this; he's just a dumb little kid. "If there's anyone you should blame, it's StarClan. They're the ones who chose Bonejaw as our medicine cat." If they're so wise, they should've chosen someone else! They should've known that Bonejaw has no idea what the fuck she's doing! And that's not her fault!

Granitekit's outburst brings a growl out of his throat. Pitch's spine bristles, his ears flattening themselves against his skull. The accusatory questions the kit aims at his aunt is undeserved, and Pitch thinks that Sandra should control her children better. "Because cats die. Life isn't perfect; quite the contraire, actually! Life is shitty, but you've gotta suck. it. up." It passes the threshold of insensitivity, and part of him is aware that it's aimed at himself, too. Because Amber died. He was murdered by a heartless bastard. Because life isn't fair, but he has to suck it up, because the world won't stop turning for him. Because he has to be strong for his clan, his family, even his enemies.
She can't speak, she can't do anything but stare as the accusations fly from the young kitten. Sparkkit was alive when she left and yes they are dead now and it's her fault. Her ears pull back against her skull for a moment and she looks away. She can't seem to find her words as she looks away from both the mother and her child. Her jaws clench and she takes in a deep breath. Pitch comes to her aid but her emotionally torn mind can't seem to be pulled out of the despair that she will cause more cats to die here in her home. She's supposed to save them and here she is not able to do anything of the sort. She's caused death to happen and she tries to reason with herself but it doesn't matter. She's useless at mending, at healing and she wants to scream at Hare Whiskers and make him take back his mistake. Remembering what Ghost said she looks at the kit and then towards Sandra again before she swallows thickly. "No..it's... I'm sorry..."

She can't seem to get her thoughts together and finally, finally she looks at Fire. Sees her and she gives a almost robotic nod to the other molly. "I need to get rosemary and mint....for the kit. Please come with me, yeah." She mutters softly towards her even as eyes stare at her accusingly. She can't stay here right now, she can't. She's being suffocated and she needs to get out. Quickly she pushes to her tall limbs and leaves the camp, trying to focus on finding these herbs.