They laid trapped, curled tight in one of the nests meant for queens- for, they were a queen now, two- no, one- one beautiful kit to themself. A little fluffball that they would have to take care of. And they had been so excited. So excited, to meet those two little suns, but they would only ever meet one. Only one of their precious lights, for one would never be seen but in the stars. Two, to one, and in their heart they felt a fear, a terrible fear that one would become zero, that their last little kit would fall ill, or stumble off somewhere dangerous, and meet his sister in the stars. And all they did was sleep, all it felt they could do was lay there. Helpless, and so, so tired. Paralyzed by their fears, by their sorrow, seeming to weigh them down like a brick, tying their heart into knots. They were supposed to be there for them, be an unwavering support for their kit, for Zenithhope, but they hardly felt 'there' at all, let alone for others. So they lay, for stars knew how long, buried in thoughts and grief and exhaustion and heartbreak, hardly coming out of their nest to eat, besides on the rare day when they forced themself to get up, forced themself to visit Zenithstar, to play with Raspberrykit, with a tired smile on their face as they buried the pit in their stomach, forced themself to carry the weight in their chest. They were just being dramatic. That's what they told themself. They were fine. They were fine. But it was so, so hard to be fine.
