A small sigh escaped Thrushpelt's lips as he watched Bluefur leave the clearing, the sun shining on her beautiful blue-grey pelt. He gave his head a tiny shake, he had to stop acting this way.
He had known for a long time that he had a small crush on her, he just couldn't help it. She was so wise, so smart, so skilled, so perfect. And slowly but surely, it had blossomed into something more than just a crush.
Love.
He could pinpoint when it happened, too. They had been at a Gathering, and he had looked in her eyes. Her eyes were illuminated by the moon and the stars, and he knew right there and then that he had fallen in love with her.
It was quite clear, though, that she didn't return those feelings. She only loved him as a friend. And he was fine with that, he really was. He tried so hard every day to force his feelings away, but...
Rosetail approached him, a sparkle in her eyes. He bit back a sigh. She had always been teasing him about his crush on Bluefur, but today, he just wasn't in the mood. But there was something different in her eyes today, not her usual teasing glint, but something else. Happinesss? Pride?
She settled down next to him. "Congratulations!" She purred.
He blinked in confusion, studying her kind and delighted expression. "About what?"
She purred with laughter. "You don't have to play dumb with me, Thrushpelt, Bluefur has already told me! I'm so happy for you, you know. After all those moons of pining for her, you finally—"
He cut her off, his head spinning with confusion. "Rosetail, slow down. Why are you meowing about? What has Bluefur told you?"
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "About the kits, mouse-brrain!"
Thrushpelt felt his heart come to a stop, as well as his whole world. Kits? Kits? Bluefur was expecting kits?
He didn't know what to do or say. What was the best course of action here? Be honest about how they weren't his? But he thought further: Bluefur had never shown interest in a single tom in the Clan. So that meant...
Bluefur's in love with a tom from another Clan!
He continued to stare at Rosetail in shock, blinking slowly. "I...I'm sorry, what?" He hoped that he had misheard her.
She suddenly let out a gasp. "On, StarClan no! She hasn't told you yet? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to ruin the surprise! I-I just thought she would have told you, with you being the father and all, and I..."
Thrushpelt felt a stab of sadness. Rosetail really thought that the kits were his. He wished, more than anything, that they were. He got to his paws, hoping his voice came out even. "It's alright, Rosetail. I think she's gone to Sunningrocks, I'll...go and find her."
He was relieved that he had actually spoken, and that his words hadn't been replaced by an agonised wail. He was happy for her, he really was, and he knew that she would make an amazing mother. He just wished things could have turned out differently.
He finally approached Sunningrocks and saw her sitting alone. Pity for her tugged at his heart. She looked lonlier than ever. For the first time, he imagined what she really felt like. The father of her kits, the cat she truly loved, couldn't be with her.
He sort of knew what it was like, through loving her. But he could still be her friend and see her daily by patrolling alongside her, and talking to her. But the father of her kits was far from her entirely. He couldn't imagine what it would be like.
Bluefur?" He called out gently.
Her eyes snapped up in surprise, meeting his.
"Are you okay?" Thrushpelt asked softly.
Her expression absolutely tore him apart. He had never seen her in so much pain, not even when Moonflower or Snowfur had died. He wanted to run to her and hold her, to whisper that everything would be okay, but his paws stayed rooted to the spot.
Bluefur swallowed tensely, moving to pad past him. "Just going back to camp…" She forced out with a broken meow.
Thrushpelt pushed his tail out in front of her before she could brush past him.
"Stop," he mewed softly, and Bluefur looked up, locking eyes with him.
"Rosetail has just congratulated me on becoming a father," Thrushpelt began, his voice cracking.
Bluefur let out a gasp, her blue eyes widening with anger, betrayal, hurt and sadness.
"She couldn’t! She promised!" Bluefur yowled, sliding her claws out and latching them into the ground.
Thrushpelt swallowed, forcing himself to continue. "Is she right? Are you having kits?" He asked.
He believed Rosetail, he really did, but he hoped with all his heart that Bluefur would shake her head and tell him no.
She didn't.
"I— I’m so sorry," She stuttered, her words tumbling out, "I didn’t tell her that you were the father. She just guessed, and it was easier…" She trailed off, her ears flat against her head, a look of shame clouding her eyes.
Thrushpelt nodded slowly, taking a deep breath. "So you are going to have kits?"
Bluefur blinked and gave a tiny nod. "Yes," She mewed, so quietly that he could barely hear her, "I am."
Her eyes looked soulless and dull, missing the spark in them that Thrushpelt loved and adored. She just looked so defeated.
He wanted more than anything to know who the lucky cat was, who she had fallen in love with. But he knew that it wasn't right.
"I’m not going to ask who the father is," Thrushpelt whispered, "I’m sure there’s a reason why you’ve kept this secret."
Bluefur looked down at the ground guiltily. "I’m sorry it didn’t work out differently," Her voice cracked, but she still carried on, "I-I would have been happy with you, I know. But, now everything has gone wrong, and I don’t know what to do…"
Thrushpelt watched her with sadness and sympathy. He wished more than anything that he was Bluefur’s mate, not whoever this other cat from another Clan was. But, he managed a smile. This still didn't change things, he had known for moons now that he would have to settle for being his friend, and that that would be enough for him. He'd still stay by her side, he knew that for certain. He wasn't going anywhere.
But what would the rest of the Clan think, if they found out? They wouldn't be so understanding. But then, he thought of Rosetail, who had incorrectly assumed that Thrushpelt was the father. He wouldn't be surprised if the rest of the Clan would do the same. It wouldn't be so difficult..
He continued to speak, his words pouring out before he even knew it. "You know…" Thrushpelt murmured shyly, shifting his paws. "You can tell the Clan that I’m the father, if you want. I mean, if it makes things easier."
Bluefur's eyes snapped up to meet his, and in them he saw a look of shock, surprise, but ultimately, gratitude.
"You’d really do that?" She choked out.
Thrushpelt gave her a nod, a purr rumbling in his throat.
"You know how I feel about you, Bluefur. I’d do my best to make you happy, I promise. And I’ll love your kits as though they were my own."
And that turned out to be very easy for Thrushpelt.
***
The moment Mistykit, Stonekit and Mosskit came into the world, his heart had been filled to the brim with joy and love for the three of them. They were the most adorable things he had ever seen.
Stonekit was kind, smart, strong and stubborn to a point. When he'd get frustrated, like about being told that play-time was over and he had to have a nap, he'd adorably wrinkle his face up and pout. But he was sweet and had a gentle side, especially when it came to his sisters.
Mistykit was calm and clever, and more timid than the other two kits. But she could get fiesty, and she reminded Thrushpelt of Bluefur herself.
But, although he wasn't supposed to have favourites, he'd be lying if he said that he didn't have a soft spot for Mosskit. She was the smallest of the litter, but it didn't stop her from being the most energetic and enthusiastic kit Thrushpelt had ever seen. She seemed to never tire, and loved playing moss-ball with her siblings.
Bluefur had never directly told anyone that Thrushpelt fathered the three of them. But because of how often he was around them, and how he obviously loved them so much, it was easy for the Clan to assume things.
He threw a ball of moss across the clearing and watched fondly as the three kits excitedly scrambled to get it, squealing and squeaking with excitement.
Goldenflower walked past, giving him a warm glance. "They're so cute. You must be so proud to be their father, they'll make amazing warriors."
Thrushpelt felt a stab of sadness, then shook it away. In another life, maybe he could have been. But in this life, this was how things had to be. And he was content with that.
"I'm sure they will be." He purred.
Stonekit darted over, puffing out his chest. "I want my name to be Stonesky!" He announced proudly.
Mistykit arrived at his side. "I wanna be Mistypool!" She purred.
"What about you, Mosskit?" Thrushpelt asked.
"I'll be Mosspelt!" She declared, burying her face into his fur. "After you!"
Thrushpelt felt his heart burst with love as he pulled the three kits close. He loved them all so much, as though they really were his own.
"Alright, it's time for a nap."
They all spun around to see Bluefur, who was approaching after being out hunting for a while.
"No!" The kits all whined.
"We want to keep playing!" Mosskit squeaked.
"We aren't even tired!" Stonekit seconded, which was immediately betrayed by Mistykit parting her jaws in a huge yawn.
Bluefur gave them a stern glance. "Too bad. Come on, we're going to the nursery." She whisked her tail out to beckon them and Mistykit let out a whine.
"But that's not fair!"
Bluefur spund back around, tail lashing. "Well sometimes life just isn't fair!" She snapped. When the kits flinched at her harsh tone, her shoulders sank and she sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to raise my voice. It isn't...none of this is your fault..." She had stopped looking at them, and now her blue gaze was locked on the camp entrance.
Thrushpelt looked at her worriedly. For the past couple of days, she had been...different. She was distant, for a start, and seemed to lose her temper more than usual, even if it was with the kits. He was concerned for her, but he knew she had a right to be upset, of course. Raising the kits to believe in a lie, lying to the whole of ThunderClan...it couldn't be easy.
Realising that she was already at the entrance to the nursery, he rushed to catch up with her. "Bluefur," He panted, "If you ever...you know, want to talk...just know that I'm here, alright? And I always will be."
Bluefur seemed surprised, taken aback, then gave him a warm look. She only dipped her head and turned away, which didn't ease his worries.
He shook his head. Everything was fine. Bluefur would be okay after a while, and the kits would grow into apprentices, then fine warriors, and Thrushpelt would watch them with nothing but love and pride.
He told himself that every night until they were taken away from him.
***
Thrushpelt pushed back through the camp entrance, and wasn't sure what he felt. He didn't know how to truly describe his emotions anymore. He wasn't even sad, or upset, or regretful, or afraid—
He was just numb.
It had been days. Days since the kits had disappeared, and he still hadn't stopped searching. He was wearing himself out, but he couldn't stop searching tirelessly for the kits. They had to be okay. They were okay, he'd find them and prove it.
Bluefur approached him, tears in her eyes, and Thrushpelt gave her a tiny shake of his head.
"I'm going out again later," He told her, "With Whitestorm and Goldenflower. We're going to have a look around Fourtrees—Stonekit always mentioned how he couldn't wait to go there—so we'll head out at sundown and—"
"No you won't," Bluefur told him, "You're going to rest, even if I have to hold you down in your nest myself. You don't need to try so hard. You don't need..." She glanced around to make sure no other cat was listening, "You don't need to pretend this much."
Thrushpelt gave her a confused look. "Pretend?"
"You don't need to spend so much of your time looking for them. I know you want it to seem like you're searching because you're the father, but..."
"Bluefur." He started, not breaking eye contact. "There's no pretence here. I'm not looking for them because I feel as though it's a role I need to step into, I'm looking for them out of genuine love for them. I loved..." He broke off. He wouldn't talk about the kits in the past tense, because they were still alive, still out there, waiting for him. "I love them so much, whether they're my kits by blood or not. I won't give up until I find them."
Bluefur's shoulders sagged, and she averted her gaze, mumbling something under her breath that Thrushpelt couldn't hear. For the first time since the kits had disappeared, he noticed just how worn down she really was. Her eyes were so dull, so hollow, and her ribs were visible beneath her usually glossy pelt. It wasn't glossy now, though, it lacked it's usual sheen, and he couldn't remember the last time he had seen her smile. She was exhausted and heartbroken.
"When's the last time you've slept?" He probed gently.
She swallowed. "I try. I really do. But I see their faces every night. Begging me, calling out to me, asking to go home, asking why things had to be this way, I couldn't have done anything to- to help them..."
Thrushpelt knew how she felt. He, too, saw them every night. Mosskit, her little eyes wide with fear. Stonekit, always the protector, trying to shield them from whatever had taken them away. And Mistykit, trembling with horror.
He'd wake up every night, shaking, and then he'd have to go out and look for them again, even if he had already been out eight times that day, because he couldn't give up on them he couldn't give up, he couldn't just sit back and—
But as the days passed, he wondered if he ever truly would see them again. After a couple of moons, he finally accepted that they were safe in the paws of StarClan, where they could play and hunt eternally, and that he'd see them again one day.
He didn't expect that day to be at the next Gathering.
***
The moment he saw the two of them, he felt as though the air had been knocked from his lungs. Because it was them, Mistykit and Stonekit—clearly not kits anymore, in fact Hailstat had mentioned two new apprentices in RiverClan —sitting proudly next to Oakheart.
He noticed for the first time how similar Stonepaw's build was to Oakheart's, and how Mistykit shared the brown tom's thick fur.
That was it, then, the answer to the question he had asked silently for moons. It was Oakheart. Oakheart had fathered the kits.
But now, another question burned in his mind. What happened to Mosskit...do I even want to know the answer?
He glanced over at Bluefur, who was sitting with the rest of the deputies. Her gaze rested on the kits too, full of pain and regret.
So RiverClan didn't find them and take them in? You...knew about this? Oh, Bluefur...why? Why did you do this?
He got to his paws. He had to go and say something to them, even if he was 'just congratulating two new cats on becoming apprentices,' that was enough.
But he sat back down again. He couldn't. It ran the risk of them remembering him, and with that, their time in ThunderClan, which clearly wasn't what Bluefur wanted.
Rosetail was next to him. "Uh, Thrushpelt? Can you hear me?"
His gaze snapped up to meet hers. "S-sorry, what?"
Rosetail playfully rolled her eyes, continuing to talk, but Thrushpelt wasn't listening this time, either.
How could he when his heart ached and his mind burned with questions?
***
He didn't get a full answer until he was lying on his side in Featherwhisker and Spottedleaf's den, each breath shallower than the last.
He missed his parents and siblings, and all of his friends, but he wasn't ready to join StarClan just yet. But after yet another futile battle for Sunningrocks, too many wounds had been inflicted on him.
Bluestar—who had ascended to leadership—lay next to him, watching him with concern. The den was empty; both Featherwhisker and Spottedleaf were gone to get herbs, and Thrushpelt was alone with Bluestar.
"I'll tell Snowfur you send your love," He rasped, trying to lift his head before having to place it back on his paws again.
Bluestar swallowed, shaking her head. "No, you won't, because you're not dying today."
They both knew it wasn't true.
But Thrushpelt was okay with it, he had lived a good life. But he couldn't go to StarClan without knowing the truth. Just as he was about to ask the question, Bluestar spoke, as though she knew what he was going to say.
"There's something you need to know," She told him, "Something I should have told you long ago. Mistypaw and Stonepaw of RiverClan...that's them, Thrushpelt. That's our Mistykit and Stonekit. They never died that night, I-I had to take them to RiverClan to be with Oakheart."
"I know all of that." Thrushpelt breathed, "I always have."
Bluestar's gaze flickered and she let out a small gasp. "You've known all this time? Why-why did you never say anything? Why didn't you hiss at me and hate me?"
Thrushpelt looked at her with shock. Why would he hate her? He realised right there and then that Bluestar hated herself for her decisions more than any other cat ever could.
"On, Bluestar..." He breathed, "I could never hate you. But...what happened to Mosskit?" He thought of the grey and white kit, her adorable little face, and prepared himself for the answer.
"She died. When I took them out of camp, she...didn't make it..." Bluestar choked out, and Thrushpelt knew that she had never truly forgiven herself for her actions.
"Why did you do it, anyway?" Thrushpelt rasped, "Why did you give them up?"
Bluestar swallowed back her sob. "I had to. Sunstar would have made Thistleclaw the deputy, and I couldn't let that happen. Thistleclaw was a fine warrior, yes, but he was too impulsive and good at fighting, he was too intent on violence and his love of bloodshed...it would have destroyed the Clan! I had to give them up, but I-I've watched them from the other side of the river and wished for things to be different for as long as I can remember."
Thrushpelt nodded weakly, taking in all of her words.
"I'm sorry I lied to you. I hope you can forgive me." Bluestar spoke, her voice wavering.
Thrushpelt purred warmly. "There's nothing to forgive. There never has been."
Bluestar gave him a loving look. "Oh Thrushpelt, you were the greatest friend a cat could have asked for."
Thrushpelt allowed his eyes to flutter shut. Friend, the word echoed in his mind. He had always just been her friend. As he took his final breath he wondered for the last time what it would have been like to be more than just her friend, but he shook the thought away.
He had been her friend. That had always been enough.
