| Lightningpaw |
An odd numbness coursed through Lightningpaw's body as Leafpelt got up, nonchalantly taking hold of her remaining kit, leaving the others behind. There had been no emotion. No attempt to see if they were alright. Simple practicality. It made sense, really. She had been told to leave for the nursery, and yet... the apprentice was certain she would have argued. Yelled at her. Berated her for not saving her other two kits' lives. Was that it, then? Was that life? You just... left the ones who didn't make it in the past?
Lightningpaw understood Leafpelt had a point in not spending her waning energy on hopeless endeavors... and yet. She could not help herself. Dainty paws scooped up the lifeless body of the third kit, her raspy tongue passing over it urgently, paws poking and prodding, toes being inserted into closed maws as she tried to coax it back to life. The apprentice's adrenaline was dissipating. The queen had survived. She would have to let Cowtuft know what had happened. Give a proper report. Let the medicine cat check the queen. Perhaps there had been an underlying health issue that had caused this? Maybe it had been the stress of the attack and the fire. Even age could account for it, she supposed.
None of it explained why her vision was so blurry, however. Why there was a wetness becoming more and more evident as it streamed down her face, going down to her trembling paws as she struggled to keep a hold of kits who would never cry out for their mother. Staring down with ever increasing difficulty at the small bundles of fur left behind at her feet, Lightningpaw turned her gaze on her shaking paws as they seemed to fade in and out of focus. Jaw becoming set, the lithe calico attempted to allow her mask to settle once more, only to feel it crumbling the more she fought to restore it. Soon there would be nothing left. She knew this the moment she felt her lower lip quiver, her face slowly sinking to her forepaws in misery. She had faced death before. But not like this. Never like this.
Her mind desperately tried to make a list. A schedule. Sort out what needed to be done. Talk to Cowtuft so he could check Leafpelt. Talk to Twilightstar so she could go give the young kits a proper burial; they deserved as much. Yet all she could manage was shaking shoulders and muffled sobs as apologies stumbled from her maw. She had failed them. Again. What use was she as a medicine cat if she would lose her patients before they'd had a chance to breath for the first time.