Blackwolf gingerly stepped around the antler he was dragging. It was FrostClan tradition for toms to carve a bone for the Ancestor’s Perch whenever they were going to have kits, a symbolic duty that asked StarClan to watch over the kits before they’re born. He had scoured the tundra for a moose’s antler, the same bone his father Stagpelt had carved for his mother.
As soon as he stepped paw in camp, his brother, Sleetrunner, was at his side. The white tom was purring. “Is that what I think it is?”
Blackwolf felt a bit giddy himself. “Yes. Viperstar told me this morning.”
Though he knew Sleetrunner disproved of his choice of a mate, Blackwolf also knew his brother would love the kits as much as he already did. They had always been close, even as apprentices when Whitethorn would shove his whiskers into everything and steal the attention.
Sleetrunner picked up the other half of the antler and helped Blackwolf carry it. They set it down near the Perch, where the light was strongest, and Blackwolf began to carve delicate designs into the surface. He was never good at carving, but he put his heart into it. Ancestors, watch over my little ones. He thought. Let me keep them safe. Help me to raise them.
“Blackwolf, have you stopped being a warrior?” Viperstar’s voice cut through Blackwolf’s thoughts like a splinter of ice. He looked up in time to see her pad into the camp, Pounceshade and Lynxsmoke behind her.
She must have just gotten back from a hunting patrol. Blackwolf thought. With a twinge of unease, he patted the antler with his paw. “It’s a father’s bone.” He said. “For-”
Viperstar’s eyes narrowed. “Why?! I already told you, we are not mates.”
Blackwolf felt his legs stiffen. “But-”
“Get rid of it,” Viperstar ordered.
Blood growing cold, Blackwolf stared down at his antler. It was already mostly carved. He didn’t move for a long moment, wondering if Viperstar really meant it.
“Well?” The leader demanded. “Are you defying me?”
She… really does mean it. Feeling defeated, Blackwolf got to his paws. “Fine.”
“Viperstar.” Larchspeckle suddenly interjected. Blackwolf glanced over to see she had the spine of a rabbit. “This is one of our ancestor’s bones.” The Carver continued, putting it down in front of their leader.
“And?” Viperstar sounded annoyed.
“And,” Larchspeckle put her paw on the spine, “it’s the father’s bone of Redfur. He and the mother of his kits, Flurrynose, were not mates. Yet he still carved one.”
Blackwolf watched bleakly as Viperstar examined the bone. She huffed and whirled around. “Fine. But,” she glanced back, “don’t put it on the Perch. No arguments.” With that, she swept back into the tunnels.
The camp was silent. Blackwolf stared at the antler, feeling utterly crushed. I know she doesn’t love me, but does she expect me not to love my kits? With a derisive snort, he hauled himself to his paws and gave everyone a cutting glare.
Cats turned away or left wherever Blackwolf looked. Even bubbly Pounceshade wouldn’t meet his eye. Feeling as if his heart had dropped to his paws, he picked up his half-carved antler and drug it to his nest. He stashed it there before racing out of the camp, wanting to feel the snow and wind in his fur.
Maybe it will blow away this terrible feeling.
As Blackwolf stalked through the tundra, a blizzard began to howl. The wind tore at his fur and snow began a leeching demon that wanted to suck the energy from him. What does it matter? He thought bitterly. I wanted kits so badly, but I can’t even love them!
In the depths of the howling wind, the snow whirled around. It took the form of a cat after a moment… Whitethorn. Yes, he could recognize his brother’s stern glare from anymore. He had never been kind to Blackwolf in life and it didn’t seem he was any kinder in death.
The ghostly vision of Whitethorn seemed to be angry. It was the same anger Blackwolf had seen when Sleetrunner had been made a warrior before either of them, the same anger that had flashed across his face when Stagpelt complimented him instead of Whitethorn.
“You’re just a ghost!” Blackwolf shouted into the wind. “I just wanted to be happy! Is that too much to ask for?!” When his brother didn’t respond, the tom snarled and rushed at him.
Whitethorn faded away at once, but another image took shape. For a moment, Blackwolf thought it was his mother – the cat had dark black fur. However, it lacked her spots. There was a great nobility surrounding this cat, an unearthly aura of peace.
“Who are you?” Blackwolf demanded. “Are you here to laugh at me too? To tell me I was wrong? I can’t take it back. Those kits will be born and they will be mine. No one can change that.”
The stranger’s eyes were so deep and full of sadness that Blackwolf felt his own sorrows overwhelm him. “I just want to be loved.” His voice broke at the end of his words.
You are loved. The ghostly black cat’s mouth didn’t move, but the words rang clear in Blackwolf’s head anyways. The image of Larchspeckle standing up to Viperstar appeared in his mind.
Blackwolf’s sadness receded for the moment, and the black cat disappeared.
When Blackwolf returned, he saw Sleetrunner was sitting at the tunnel entrance, waiting for him.
Paws freezing, Blackwolf limped over to his brother. They said nothing, but Sleetrunner let him lean on his shoulder and they made their way to the den. Most of the warriors were already asleep, but Rabbitflower was polishing the moose antler with a piece of ice-covered moss. She looked up and backed away, murmuring “It’s a lovely carve, you know.”
Blackwolf nodded mutely as he collapsed in his nest, paws on the antler. A mouse had been left for him, Lynxsmoke’s scent on it. With a heavy sigh, the tom at the freshkill in a couple of bites. Perhaps I judged him too harshly. He would have to thank the warrior in the morning.
“Blackwolf…” Sleetrunner’s hesitant voice broke the peaceful silence. The tom glanced up to see his brother kneading his nest nervously. “You know it’s not about you, right?” He said quietly. “It’s about…”
“Whitethorn, I know.” Blackwolf said curtly.
Sleetrunner sighed. “Yes. You know that Viperstar wanted her kits to be Whitethorn’s. She’s just upset… give her time. She’s still hurting on the inside.”
“… I’ll try.” Running his paws over the bone, Blackwolf closed his eyes. It doesn’t matter if Viperstar doesn’t love me. Steely determination ran through him. I’ll love these kits with all of my heart. So what if they’re not Whitethorn’s kits, Viperstar?
When he slipped into sleep, at last, his dreams were filled with bright, curious eyes and the laughter of kits.