https://warriorcatsonline.com/forums...ictureid=59328
Spring
long-furred, scarred, oriental-shaped, gray-and-orange calico molly with blue eyes; torn right ear
purrks: herbal knowledge - tier 2 | the collector | mind reader | dreamwalker
she/her | … | 24 moons

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Being in the nursery made the former medicine cat feel… guilty. There wasn’t a word Spring could use to fully describe the pit that had settled in her stomach. Her paws felt heavy, the familiar scent of milk and moss now suffocating instead of comforting. She had avoided this place for moons, knowing that every step she took closer reminded her of what she had left behind—what she had run from. It had taken so long for her to gather the courage to even set paw back in camp, let alone the nursery. It wasn’t like she had a choice to be in the nursery in the first place. Bumblestar told her that she would be staying in here until her kits were born. There was no escaping it, no running away from the reality of her situation now. The clan leader’s words echoed in her mind, weighing her down with each passing moment. Spring hated the feeling of being caged like this, confined to the nursery walls. But more than anything, she hated the shame that hung over her like a storm cloud. Her heart clenched painfully as her mind drifted back to everything she had left behind. Her old life as a medicine cat seemed like a distant memory now, something she could barely recognize. The responsibilities, the sense of purpose she had once held—it was all gone, buried beneath the choices she had made. Choices that haunted her every waking moment. She had let them down. Every cat she had once cared for, every life she had touched—she had abandoned them all. Spring didn’t need anyone to tell her what a failure she had become.

The looks from her clan-mates were enough to remind her of that every day. And now, here she was, waiting for the inevitable. She shuffled her paws, curling her tail tightly around herself as if it could shield her from the reality of her situation. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at the other queens that held themselves residents within the nursery, to face the quiet judgment in their eyes. Instead, she kept her gaze firmly on the ground, her ears flattening against her skull. What would Dovefluff think of her right now? Spring swallowed hard at the thought. Her adopted mother had always been her anchor, the cat who guided her when she had been going through the hardest times, and soothed her when doubt clouded her mind. But now? She couldn't even bear the thought of facing her—of facing any of the cats she was close with. How could she explain what she had done, the choices that led her here, with kits growing inside her? Kits she had never planned for, never wanted—yet here they were. She could already see her mother’s disappointed expression along her face, and see how angry she would be right now from her mistakes. Spring’s chest tightened, her heart feeling as heavy as her paws. She curled in on herself, tricolored tail wrapped tightly over her nose, as if closing herself off could lessen the ache. Memories from seasons ago rushed back to her—the pride in Dovefluff’s eyes when she’d first taken up the role of medicine cat apprentice, the gentle words of encouragement on days when the weight of her duties had felt too great.

Back then, she had been someone and had held purpose within the clan. She had been a healer and a guide. Cats had looked to her for hope and help, trusting that she would always be there. But now? Now she was nothing but a shell, bound to the nursery as if she were prey waiting to be devoured by her own regrets. Every noise in camp felt amplified within the nursery’s walls—the laughter of kits playing, the calls of clan members sharing news. Spring wondered if they were all secretly talking about her. Whispering, perhaps, about the once-esteemed medicine cat who had returned, belly heavy with kits and shame. She tried to block it out, to shut her ears against the imagined voices, but the silence only seemed to draw her thoughts deeper into the past, to a life that now felt almost foreign to even think about. Crippling senseless guilt dragged her down as she remembered being told of the horrid news of Dovefluff’s death from Pinepaw in a dream she had shared with him, her claws slipping and digging deep within her nest. Spring’s breath hitched at the memory, her heart twisting painfully as she recalled Pinepaw’s solemn gaze in the dream, his voice thick and heavy with sorrow. After he told her, Spring had felt something within her shatter, like a thread binding her to home had been cut. She had woken with her heart pounding, desperate to escape the truth, yet it lingered like a weight, sinking her deeper into the dark.

She’d lost the cat who had been her mother in every way that mattered than Smallsky ever did, the one who had believed in her even when she couldn’t believe in herself. And she hadn’t been there to say goodbye or see her one last time before the owl took her away. The shame was almost unbearable. She had abandoned her clan, her duty, and the cat who had loved her unconditionally. Her tricolored tail tightened over her nose, a vain attempt to stifle the aching sob that threatened to escape her. She could picture Dovefluff now, her warm blue gaze full of disappointment rather than the pride Spring had once seen reflected there. Had Dovefluff died believing she had failed her? Had her final thoughts been tainted by the knowledge that Spring had run, choosing her own path over the one meant for her? Spring had never been able to live up to the image Dovefluff had held of her, the vision of a strong, selfless medicine cat who could shoulder the burdens of the clan without wavering. She’d crumbled under the weight, letting her selfish desires take her far from everything she’d ever known. Her paws felt heavy as stones, each reminder of Dovefluff’s absence settling like a giant rock in her heart. Had she ever truly deserved the role of medicine cat, or had she only been an imposter, fooling herself and everyone around her? A bitter taste filled her mouth. She had dedicated her life to healing, to offering comfort to those in need, yet she had ended up causing only pain.

A wave of fatigue washed over her, and she closed her eyes, hoping it might drown out the gnawing ache within her. But instead, an image rose in her mind—one she hadn’t allowed herself to think about in days. Lioncrest. Just the thought of him made her heart clench painfully. She had avoided him ever since her return, skirting around the edges of camp to make sure their paths didn’t cross. Yet despite her efforts, his face lingered in her mind, being sharper than ever. Lioncrest had always been a source of strength, a presence she could lean on even in her most troubled moments. He was her mother’s mate and had always treated Spring with an almost fatherly affection that Spring had yearned for deeply from Foxstep. He’d been her silent supporter, never intruding on her duties but always watching over her with a sense of pride and warmth as she grew into her rank. Spring had quietly admired and respected him. But now… Now, she couldn’t even bear to look at him. The idea of facing him—of seeing disappointment in his golden eyes—filled her with dread. How could she stand before him, knowing how thoroughly she had let him down? He had trusted her, believed in her, and she had abandoned everything she had once stood for all just to help some deranged family that she didn’t even know. A shudder ran through her. The image of Lioncrest’s face, worn with grief or disappointment, flashed in her mind.

She imagined him looking at her with that piercing gaze, asking the question she feared most: Why didn’t you come home sooner? Why did you forsake the path you were meant to follow? And what could she possibly say in response? She had no answer that could satisfy him; they didn’t satisfy Bumblestar, she knew that much. No words that could undo the damage she had done. Spring felt her claws dig into the moss, her breathing growing shallow as the weight of her own guilt seemed to press her deeper into the ground. What kind of mother would she even be if she was even allowed to keep her kits? If she could barely face the consequences of her choices, if she was consumed by regret with every step, how could she possibly care for them? They would see right through her, would sense the uncertainty and the shame. She would be nothing but a hollow shell, incapable of offering them the love and guidance they deserved. But, the truth is though, she did love them, but she didn’t even know how. They deserve better. She knew she couldn’t run from this any longer, couldn’t hide from the life she had brought into the world. Soon, the kits would be here, and she would have to face the harsh reality of her choices, whether she was ready or not. With a shaky breath, Spring pressed her head down into her paws, feeling as if she were being swallowed whole by the shadows of her past. If Lioncrest were here, at this very moment, she would easily imagine him staring her down in disappointment. Well, little did she know, that was about to happen sooner than she thought.

@Jayvines (eyes you)