River of Blood (A Warrior Cats Fanfiction)

Chapter Thirteen

Wildheart raised her head, blinking sleep from her eyes as Honeyflower pushed her way into the nursery, her mouth full with the limp body of a shrew.

Soft light filtered in through the branches of the den. Honeyflower dropped the shrew at the paws of the queen, trying not to disturb Foxkit as he slept at his mother's belly. "Sorry for waking you, Wildheart. I figured you'd be hungry."

Wildheart purred, "thank you, Honeyflower. That was very sweet of you." She licked her lips, and immediately dug in.

In the corners of the den Juniperbush stirred, her tail curled around the sleeping bodies' of Nightkit and Twigkit. She shifted in a patch of shadows, opening her eyes and blinking to adjust to the sudden darkness of the nursery. Honeyflower dipped her head towards the queen, and immediately felt bad that she had neglected to bring her something. "I'm sorry, Juniperbush. I would have gotten you something if I knew you were awake."

Juniperbush shook her head. "I ate earlier," she said, yawning. "Nettleburr brought me a squirrel."

Honeyflower nodded. She turned back to Wildheart, surprised to find the shrew already half gone. She asked, "do you need anything else, Wildheart?"

"I'm alright for now," Wildheart told her. She stared at Honeyflower, her eyes unusually soft. "Thank you. And..I know I could never replace Finchflower, but I hope that you can one day consider me as part of your family. Both me and Foxkit."

Honeyflower smiled. She leaned forward, pressing her nose against the queen's cheek. She smelled faintly of milk and sweet-smelling sap. Just like Finchflower, she thought. Honeyflower closed her eyes, and breathed in her familiar scent. In a whisper, she said, "I already do."

-

When Honeyflower awoke the next morning, it was still dawn, bird song barely heard over the call of a raven in the distance. Her stomach ached, as if she had swallowed crow-food. Pushing herself to her paws, she stepped carefully around the sleeping bodies of her clanmates, walking past them and into camp, still cool with dawn.

It was so early that not even the dawn patrol had left. Barely any cat stirred, aside from Mossydawn, who guarded the camp while everyone else was asleep. Honeyflower nodded towards the she-cat, grabbing a finch at the very top of the fresh-kill pile and settling down to eat it beside a patch of warm shadows.

Patchpaw stumbled out of the apprentices' den, fur still ruffled with sleep. He dragged his paws over to Honeyflower, finding a spot beside her and stretching. "'Morning, Honeyflower," he yawned. His eyes brightened at the half-eaten finch and he licked his lips. "A finch! That's my favorite."

"Here," Honeyflower said, pushing it towards him. Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain surged through her entire body, and she stiffened. Her face twisted as white-hot pain shot through her, making her feel dizzy. When she spoke, her voice was hardly a breath, "y-you can have it. I'm not hungry."

"Thanks!" purred Patchpaw. He took a bite, swallowing as Honeyflower stood up, grimacing. His eyes grew wide with worry. "Are you okay?"

Honeyflower shook her head. "My belly hurts," she said, gasping. Patchpaw brushed against her, making sure the young warrior didn't double over from pain.

"Let's go see Spottedclaw and Sweetpaw," suggested Patchpaw, carefully. "You probably ate something rotten."

Honeyflower wanted to protest, but another wave of pain crashed through her, and it hurt too much to speak. She nodded her head in silent agreement, and followed the apprentice to the medicine cat's den, twitching her nose as strong-smelling herbs wafted out of the entrance.

The den was almost completely dark. Honeyflower blinked, her eyes forced to adjust quickly to the darkness. Spottedclaw was awake and sorting herbs with a paw, tossing out any that were old or dead. Honeyflower could see his apprentice, Sweetpaw, resting in her nest, stirring but not waking. She wondered, briefly, if Spottedclaw ever slept, or if he was just far too busy.

"Ah, Honeyflower," meowed Spottedclaw, seeming surprised to see her. He eyed Patchpaw for a moment before rising to his paws, dipping his head towards the young warrior. "What can I do for you?"

"I don't feel well," said Honeyflower. She grimaced again, belly still throbbing with pain–but at least she could stand properly now. "I think I have a stomach ache."

Spottedclaw flicked his tail. "Sit," he said, gesturing towards a nest half-hidden in a pool of shadows. "I'll see what's wrong with you."

Honeyflower sat. For a moment all Spottedclaw did was look her over, before pressing his paws against her belly. He did this for a long while before he finally rose and turned to Patchpaw. "Give us some privacy," he said, smiling softly. "Thank you for bringing her to me."

"'Course," he meowed. Patchpaw shook out his pelt and, dipping his head, added, "get better, Honeyflower." He left, and Spottedclaw turned back towards the she-cat, his smile falling.

"Who is it?" asked Spottedclaw. Honeyflower stared at him, not sure what he was referring to. Spottedclaw tried again. "The father of your kits. Who is he?"

"What?" She looked at him like he had grown three heads. "I'm not expecting kits."

Spottedclaw rolled his eyes. "I've been a medicine cat seasons before you were born. I think I know what an expecting queen looks like."

Honeyflower remembered Emberstrike. She flushed. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," she swallowed, and said, "I'm not expecting. I can't be."

Spottedclaw watched her carefully. Finally, he told her, "you don't have to tell me. But remember that StarClan knows everything." He shook his head, and murmured, half to himself, "I hope they don't judge you too harshly."

She was silent. Honeyflower looked at her belly, feeling sick to her stomach. I'm expecting kits, the realization hit her like a ton of bricks. I'm expecting Emberstrike's kits.