Squirrelflight's Hope

Sparkpelt stared ahead blankly as Flamekit and Finchkit chased each other between Daisy’s legs.

“I saw Larksong,” Squirrelflight mewed softly.

Sparkpelt jerked up her head. “Where?”

“When I was hurt,” Squirrelflight told her. “I saw him in StarClan.”

“You were never in StarClan,” Sparkpelt grunted. She circled in her nest, tramping the bracken into a fresh hollow before slumping heavily into it. “You’re making it up to make me feel better.”

“He had Flickerkit with him,” Squirrelflight pressed.

“Flickerkit?”

“That’s what he named your kit.” Squirrelflight searched her daughter’s gaze, searching for a glimmer of happiness.

Sparkpelt lifted her chin. Interest sparked in her emerald eyes. “That’s the name we chose for him. No one knew it but me and Larksong.”

“Larksong told me to tell you he loves you and he’s okay. He’s going to look after Flickerkit until you join them, and he wants you to be happy. He wants you to make a good life without him. He doesn’t want you to grieve.”

Sparkpelt stared at her mother, her gaze suddenly far away.

Squirrelflight’s heart ached as her daughter’s eyes glistened. She wished she could make her pain go away, but she knew Sparkpelt must face it alone. Time would help, and love. She called to the kits. “Come play with your mother.”

Flamekit looked at her, puzzled. “But Daisy likes playing with us. Sparkpelt just wants to sleep.”

Sparkpelt sat up. “No I don’t,” she mewed earnestly. “Not anymore.”

Squirrelflight pricked her ears. It was the first flash of energy her daughter had shown since Larksong’s death. She hurried to Flamekit and scooped him up by his scruff.

“Hey!” Flamekit churned his paws in the air as Squirrelflight carried him across the den. “I was playing with Finchkit.”

Squirrelflight dropped him in front of Sparkpelt. “Finchkit can come too.” She beckoned his sister over.

Sparkpelt blinked nervously at her kits, as though she didn’t know what to do.

“Here.” Stormcloud quickly tore a lump of moss from her nest and rolled it into a ball. He bowled it past the kits

Flamekit leaped after it instantly, his pelt fluffing with excitement. Finchkit’s eyes rounded with determination. She lunged for the ball and knocked it away.

Squirrelflight nodded to Sparkpelt. “Go on,” she encouraged.

Sparkpelt hesitated, then reached out a paw and scooped the moss ball away from the kits. They turned on her, pelts prickling with indignation.

“That was ours!” Finchkit told her.

“Then you’d better catch it!” Sparkpelt knocked the moss ball across the den floor.

Squeaking happily, Flamekit and Finchkit chased after it. Sparkpelt’s eyes glowed. She hurried after her kits and hooked the ball away again, this time tossing it high above their heads. Flamekit leaped for it, spinning as he jumped.

“Great catch!” Sparkpelt mewed as he snatched the moss ball from the air.

“Throw it again!” Finchkit stared eagerly at her mother. “I want to catch it too!”

Sparkpelt purred and threw the moss ball high, watching proudly as Finchkit batted it away before it hit the ground. “You’re going to be great hunters,” she told them.

“Can we go and practice on real prey?” Finchkit blinked at her.

“Not yet.” Sparkpelt’s eyes were bright now. “But we can go outside if you like.”

“It’s a perfect day for chasing leaves,” Stormcloud told her.

“Outside the den?” Flamekit’s pelt bushed with excitement.

Finchkit stuck her tail in the air and marched to the den entrance. “I’m going first.”

“No you’re not!” Flamekit hared after and tried to barge past as she reached the opening in the brambles. Finchkit pushed him away and scrambled out of the den.

“Be nice!” Purring now, Sparkpelt hurried after them. “And fluff out your fur properly! It’s chilly outside.”

Stormcloud watched her go. “Do you think she’s going to be okay?”

“It will take time.” Hope glimmered in Squirrelflight’s chest. “But with the help of her kits and her Clan, she’ll find a way to get over Larksong’s death.” She ducked out of the den. Flamekit and Finchkit were already chasing across the clearing as the wind whisked a leaf ahead of them. Sparkpelt bounded after them, her tail fluffed with excitement as a fresh flurry of leaves showered down and the kits leaped for them, squealing with delight.

Squirrelflight sat down to rest her leg. Why had she wanted kits of her own so much? There would always be kits in the Clan. It didn’t matter that they weren’t hers. The Clan was like kin, and their kits would be her kits too. The Sisters weren’t the only cats to believe that a kit belonged to every cat. Had she forgotten that warriors had been helping to raise one another’s kits for moons? She purred to herself. That would never change.