[goddess of ducks]

@Noire

With Scorchedpetal and Beachkit in the medicine den, Cliffheart felt extra responsible for protecting and caring for his little Stars. The tan Abyssinian padded in, eyes landing on the nest filled with the three of his remaining kits. Redkit, Sagekit, and Strikerkit in their nest peacefully. They, unlike him, didn't have a constant worry biting in the back of their head on whether Beachkit and Scorchedpetak were going to be okay. They didn't know that Scorchedpetal had been inches from joining the stars above, they didn't know that their brother had a chance of not being able to walk properly. They just knew that Mommy was sick and she was staying with Ebonyfrost to get better. They didn't know any better, they were kits.

But he could tell them. He could tell them that Mommy might die. He could tell them that Beachkit might have a hard time playing and messing around with them. But what good would it do? It would most likely make them cry. He would have worried kits. They knew less than he did, and some times it was good. They didn't have to deal with worry yet. Good for them, because that's what a Cliffheart felt like he was doing all the time. Every morning when he crawled out of nest, he was jolted from drowsiness by worries for his little Stars, for his Twin Star. He sent prayers up to Starclan every evening and every morning for their protection. That's how worried he was. And now that Two of his Stars were hurt, he felt betrayed by Starclan yes, but himself. He had himself to blame.

He should have been quicker. He could have saved Scorchedotal from her near death experience. He would give anything to trade spots with her, her an Beachkit. He just wanted a happily ever after, but it seemed like someone liked messing with his life. Someone liked to screw up his family, and that was the one thing he didn't want to happen. He wanted to save and protect his family of Stars at all costs, even the cost of his life.

He padded over slowly and gazed down sadly at the three kits of his. They were his. Red kits fur stick out painfully. Her bright red fur replicating that of her mother's. Strikerkit was there, a decent blend of coloration between him and Scorchedpetal. Then Sagekit, a fluffy version of himself. They were his, and he had to care for them, now even more so that his Twin Star was out of commission.