A Night's End

It's Going To Be Okay

[i]Her jaws were parted wide, her eyes screwed tightly shut and her ears pinned against her head. The pain in her tail subsided only for the briefest of seconds before it returned tenfold, digging through fur and skin and surely wrapping around bone.

[i]Instinctively, she tried to scramble free of the teeth that held her, but her mind was too focused on the thought that her tail would tear in two if she pulled. Besides, her limbs were trembling too much to so much as bear the weight of her above them. They stretched out, kicking spasmodically as her belly hit the cold ground.

[i]No thought came to her.

[i]No, that wasn't right–they all came to her, speeding by and circling back and striking one after the other like a swarm of angry wasps. She couldn't make sense of any of it, she couldn't focus on a single coherent idea that would help her get out of this, that would even comfort her.

[i]She could only think one repeating thing:

I am dying!

I am dying!

I am dying!

[i]And one thing lying beneath it:

I want my momma!

[i]In spite of the horrific pain she was in and the panic that sent her into hyperventilating spirals, a splash of relief managed to wash over her as her brother rounded the hill and raced towards her, his eyes wide and his fur spiked.

[i]"Oh StarClan, what's happened?" He wailed as he came to a stop beside her.

[i]"A fox!" Nightkit screamed. "It's got me! Get me away! Help me!"

[i]"There's no fox," Sheepkit told her, though he looked no less terrified. He moved to her tail, and from there Nightkit heard his voice again as he informed her that it wasn't a beast's fangs that held her, but a thin, silver line affixed to the ground. He tried to dig it out where it met the dirt, but his claws were too small.

[i]He looked around wildly. "I'll–I'll, uh, I'll get help! Yeah, I'll be right back!"

[i]He began to race away, but before his paw could hit the ground, Nightkit reached out and held it, a desperate look in her eyes. "Don't leave me!" she pleaded.

[i]Sheepkit paused, looking at her, to the direction of camp, and back again. Then he dipped his head and settled in beside his sister, licking her cheek in an effort to sooth her. "It's gonna be okay," he promised. "I won't let anything bad happen. I'm right here."

[i]He then lifted his muzzle to the sky and took a deep breath. Then with a long exhale, he let out the loudest yowl he had ever made in his short life, hoping–praying–that their Clanmates would hear it. He yowled over and over until his throat couldn't take it anymore, then he resumed his grooming and repeated that last mantra. "I'm right here, I'm right here, I'm right here."

[i]"Over here!" Rabbitsplash's voice sounded nearby.

[i]"See?" Sheepkit asked Nightkit, who although looked much better, still appeared frightened out of her fur. He nuzzled her, pressing his cheek against hers. "It's going to be okay."

—-------------

[i]"Is she going to be okay?" Hawksplash's voice shook in the small space. She sat next to Nightkit's nest in the medicine den–as close to her daughter as Coldsplash allowed her to without risking rubbing her fresh bandages.

[i]"She'll keep her tail," Coldsplash assured her. Her eyes were rounded with a sympathy not afforded to most of her patience. Even so, a harsh grating came through her teeth as she went on. "She's lucky all she'll get is a scar. A permanent one, at that. How could you let them out of your sight?"

[i]Hawksplash hung her head.

[i]"It's not her fault!" Sheepkit bristled defensively. His voice was low as to not wake his sister, who he was pressed against. Coldsplash couldn't convince him to move away from her. "It's called 'sneaking' out for a reason! You didn't notice, either."

[i]As soon as his confidence came, it was gone under Coldsplash's glare. Then she huffed and shrugged her shoulders. "I suppose you have a point there." Then she returned her attention back to Hawksplash. "She'll have to stay here for some time."

[i]"How long?" Hawksplash asked, gulping.

[i]"A moon at least. Worst case is she misses her ceremony."

[i]Hawksplash frowned deep and sorrowfully. "She's safe. That's all that matters."

[i]But Sheepkit was doused with fresh fear. "She can't miss her apprenticeship! We're supposed to train together!"

[i]Coldsplash shook her head. "Shoulda thought 'bout that before you broke the rules and went where no one knew where you were. Actions have consequences. Consider this a tame one."

[i]*But it was her idea!* Sheepkit bit back the retort. Nightkit was in enough pain as is. She didn't need scolding on top of it. He ducked his head. "Sorry."

[i]Silence fell over the den. Coldsplash left to collect herbs. Hawksplash stayed with her kits, comforting them with assurances that neither could really hear–Nightkit because of her sleep, Sheepkit because he couldn't hear anything outside of his own worries.

[i]As night came and he still couldn't find it in himself to close his eyes, his gaze shifted and he looked his littermate in the face.

[i]*I could have lost her*, he thought. He was already aware of the reality, but now it sunk in deep, ugly claws sinking right down to his heart. He looked at her face and remembered how it had looked before, her eyes so wide they bulged, her chest heaving with rapid, uneven breaths. Her mouth parted wide as she cried and screamed. Her tail–he blinked at it now, wrapped in layers of leafwrap and cobwebs and poultices.

[i]A wave of fresh guilt made him shudder. A new memory came. He was the one who suggested that they split up. If he hadn't, if he hadn't had been so annoyed with Nightkit being so afraid and just comforted her instead *before* she was injured, this never would have happened.

[i]She could have died because of him. She could have lost her tail. She was still under threat of infection. She would have a permanent scar. She might miss her apprenticeship ceremony. And surely the pain wouldn't go away overnight?

[i]"I'm sorry," he whispered, a sob catching in his throat. "I...I don't know how to make this up to you. But I promise I will."