’I’m sorry…’ the leader speaks and Robinheart manages a subtle shake of her head. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s a pain I put myself through… it was the better of the possible outcomes, I suppose,” she whispers as each outcome flits through her mind - the hound getting Rivuletkit, her leg not healing while in the nursery due to too much movement, infection, death, and so on. Dark and dreadful outcomes that StarClan had spared her from.
‘It is unfair.’
She nods. Tears well up in citrine eyes but Robinheart tries hard to blink them away.
‘It hardly ever... seems fair.’
“It is awfully unfair. But… I think… there’s no changing the course StarClan has set.” It is a reply that has had some prior thought behind it - some logic to outweigh the tonnage of emotion that gripped her heart like a vise. Robinheart feels a small sense of validation in Lichenstar’s agreement with her. Her sunbright gaze raises from the earthen floor and flicks momentarily skyward (not that she can see the sky from within the medicine den) as if briefly searching for Brookstorm somewhere among the vast distance. “I can only hope something good can come from this. That fairness will be granted in a way I have not anticipated yet,” the mottled queen utters in warble voice - it seems most unfair to complain solely about StarClan before the leader who has faced them and come back with lives ninefold.
Lichenstar takes a seat beside her nest and Robinheart exhales a shuddered breath. It is not often she is graced by the leader’s presence for more than a moment. The last time… the last time had been in the nursery. Brookstorm’s body curled around her own. Muffled cries pouring from her maw. Lichenstar entering and staying with her in bereavement morn. It feels odd to have moments of grief in the blue lynx point’s presence. As if Robinheart can only unload her pain upon scarred lofty shoulders. The very same shoulders she had supported after the rogue ambush, ushering a grievously injured Lichentail back to camp - to Ravensong’s care.
Oh how that felt like a lifetime ago.
‘Their names... how did you.... pick?’
Lichenstar breaks the brief silence and Robinheart turns her glassy gaze towards them. It is not a question she anticipated, but one she feels clenches her heart in some unnameable way. She is reminded of the night beside the river, fireflies dotting the horizon and cricket song floating on the breeze. Brookstorm curled around her and the kicks of kits not yet introduced to the world. “W-We talked of names before they were born,” she begins, shifting ever so slightly in her nest so she could properly address the lynx point. “Brookstorm didn’t want family names… she hated being named after an aunt she never met. But we liked strong RiverClan names. She also thought I would like softer sounding names. We tossed around so many… so many names,” a cross between a chuckle and a sob escapes her maw at the memory, “and in the end there was only one name that had been officially picked. One name that held a lot of weight - that would be big paws to fill one day but if anyone could do it it would be Brookstorm’s child,” she tempts a glance at Lichenstar and offers them a sad smile, “Algaekit. Brookstorm wanted Algaekit because of how much you meant to her. She wasn’t always good at showing her emotions but… I knew she loved you dearly.”
There is a momentary silence whilst Robinheart collects her bearings. The emotion behind Algaekit’s name pulls the misted tears from her eyes. She tries to swipe them away with her paw before continuing. “Rivuletkit is a testament of my desire to give our child a strong RiverClan name… and my penchant for breaking rules,” the mottled molly confesses softly, a ghost of a bittersweet smile on her lips, “she is named after Brookstorm. My mate didn’t want family names but I-I… I loved her so much. She had lost everything, stood alone in her lineage, and I wanted our child to have that same strength and resilience her mother bore. It felt right.” And now she is cursed to bear a name of someone she’ll never know, she thinks for a second before displacing the thought. “And Redkit. Our son, so strong and so sweet… is named for his color. Bright splashes of ginger like my friend, Foxtail… the swatch of fur upon my chest that gave me my name… the color of my collar that brought me such grief. A myriad of emotions tied to such a color. It is love that I feel now, stronger than anything else, when I think of red.”
[ penned by kerms ]
