camp the ghost of you - visiting nursery

[Flamestar]

( ★ ) The past couple days, she had noticed Sunfreckle's slowly growing absence in the camp. She had heard about the incident out by the border with Spotflare and his children's disappearance...and since then, she hadn't seen much of her friend. The last time they had really spoken was shortly after he had found out about the kits, and he had been crying...She had been meaning to check up on him, but with the threat of the boars, she found herself constantly on her paws.

The lead warrior finally had some free time, so she spent a little while outside the camp picking some flowers, and gathering feathers. The feathers were more for the kits to play with, but if he wanted some flowers too he could have them. When she padded back into the camp, she had petals and feathers stuck all over her, but she carried the majority of them carefully in her mouth. Her kits had loved playing with feathers and flowers when they were little, so hopefully nothing had changed in the past few moons.

She padded to the nursery, feeling unease wash over her as she got closer. Her and Flycatcher had talked about the possibility of kits again in the future, but just being this close to the den made her want to run off and not look back. Her paws grew heavier, and it felt like the den was trying to drag her in once more. Maybe this was how Sunfreckle was feeling? "Thunfreckle?" she called out, her voice muffled by the bundle. After a few moments, she padded into the den...

A wave of emotions were thrown at her that she wasn't prepared for. She took a step backwards, almost as if they had literally hit her. Her gaze locked onto an area of the den specifically...the place she had birthed her kits. Lilykit...Butterflykit... Her eyes widened, and darkened with grief. She heard a voice, and thankfully her attention was taken off of the nest. Her head whipped around, clearly avoiding the nest. "I brought you these flowers...I thought you might like them..I also brought feathers for the kits to play with. How are you doing?"

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@Sunfreckle

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( WHEN I FIND MYSELF ; I'MA BRING IT ON HOME )

 

[Sunfreckle]

He was sure everyone had heard of him foolishly following the patrol out of camp, shouting and acting like a madman before being sent scolded back to the den by Howlingstar like a misbehaved kitten. And he had acted as such, hadn't he? It was deserved, but rather than look upon him as though he were stupid he only saw flashes of pity in the brief glances of cats that passed by and he wished they were disappointed in him instead because that would be easier to stomach. Flamewhisker appears, a brand of fire momentarily silhouetted by the bright world outside the den behind her before she slinks into the darkness to join him. His gaze follows hers to the spot her old nest had been opposite of where his own was and he feels a flutter of anxiety rise in his chest. Her kits, lost. His...lost.
Flowers. His nose twitches slightly at the sudden floral scent now filling the den and it takes away from the stale air he had been sitting in for so long but whatever relief it might bring is quickly dampened.
For the kits to play with...She says, and his expression darkens, hollow stare unblinking for what felt like an alarmingly long time before he closed his eyes and opened them only partially; a clear look of exhaustion weighting his expression. "What kits?" He asks and his tone is a cracked finality, partial acceptance. Sunfreckle does not rise from his nest to greet his friend like he would normally, the nest itself a mess of a thing he had hardly bothered to keep clean and tidy as he'd done his first litter. Clumps of red fur layered the edges around him where he had scratched and rolled without much effort to groom himself, leaving him to look prickly and disheveled as a result.
"I mean...sorry, thank you." The tom says despite himself, despite his feelings, it was a kind gesture and he should at the very least accept it even if his mood didn't want to allow it. Flamewhisker was his friend and she had gone through something tragic here in his den once as well, the thought of it reminds him of the moment and he wants to shake it off but before he can a single question burrows its way deep into his head; would he even bother naming these kits? They deserved names, but the thought of doing so twists his stomach into knots.
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