Before his nose could touch her neck, she retreated into him. She pressed back, up against his broad chest so that his muzzle couldn’t reach her. He huffed an incredulous laugh at the absurd intelligence in the move.

“What? I don’t know,” she managed.

“Yes you do,” he said.

Everyone hated someone, and anyone she might hate could be responsible for what happened to her children — and the same would be true for someone who hated her.

Before he could lose his grip on her entirely, he grabbed her tighter and threw the full force of his weight to the left. He pulled her to the ground. His body twisted so he was upright, to position himself on top of her.

“Don’t think about it. First name in your head.”

He would try to pin her fully with paws on her chest, back paw gently on her belly — as one might do to rake apart the vulnerable skin there.

“Swanflight!” she cried just as he held her to the ground. She swept a blow at his face, but he pulled back, just out of her reach. “Happy? Please get off. You win.”

I’ve made no killing blow — you can still fight, he wanted to say, but found himself too surprised to care, and doubted she would care much either. He’d struck a nerve.

Brow creased, he just nodded and stepped off of her, tail flicking once as he sat down and wrapped it around himself. He waited for her to gather herself up from the scuffle, and didn’t bother to hide that he watched her. He wondered if he pushed too far — if this would be the first and last time they ever trained together.

”It’s not often that someone admits they hate their parent.” He kept his voice low, and gentle. ”What made her your answer?” His eyes held no judgment.

Irisfrost groomed the dirt from her long pelt — it was beautiful and sleek, something she so clearly carefully maintained. But there was a charm to the messiness, to the fierce determination that came with it, and he wondered who else, if anyone, got to see it.

“It’s… complicated,” she answered after what felt like an eternity of silence.

Dawnclaw nodded. ”I understand.”

She didn’t have to tell him anything, didn’t owe him that. He thought to end their session there and agree to retire to their nests. He even opened his mouth to say so, but she surprised him with continuing.

“You know I didn't get to name my sons? Swanflight wanted one named after my dead brother, and the kit's grandfather wanted one named after his dead son." Though he wasn’t a father, he sometimes he wondered if he one day would be. It only took a second of imagining Sunstorm doing something like that for him or for Duskfang to wrinkle his nose in an almost-snarl. "That was my life. For the longest time. Swanflight is my mother, but I was never a daughter. All she wanted was a vessel for grandkits. A continuation of herself."

His own anger caught him off guard. He felt that ache she must be feeling, and stars, it made him mad. “That’s foxshit,” was all he could articulate through his clenched teeth, but kept a tight rein on urge to over-react. Sunstorm never allowed that sort of thing, and forced any fire to stay burning under the skin of his children. After a second of a few slow breaths, he nodded a little. “I was Sunstorm’s legacy. His heir, his protegee. Molded in his image. I… understand.” His tail lashed with a thump on the ground, and his half smile was bitter. “Here’s to shaping their legacies ourselves, hm? Fuck living up to their expectations.”

Not that that made it better. Not that sentiments like that did anything to sooth the pain of what was lost. Dawnclaw shook out his pelt, and a cloud of dust lifted from him when he did. He tongued away the dust sticking to his shoulder. He and Irisfrost had more in common than he’d ever thought.

He sat beside her again, brows pulling together. “Have you..." He paused, and knew he was treading over uncertain ground. "Have you given thought to whether or not Swanflight has anything to do with your children?”

"There are several potential motivations for her. She might've stolen them to convince the clan I am unfit and take over in my stead; after potentially finding them herself. In which case they would've been found moons ago." He agreed with a nod. It had been too long. If anyone wanted to play hero, it would have been done already. She kept going, spilling more words than he thought he’d ever heard her speak at once. "Or she might've taken them to free myself up for a new mate. No strings attached, no prior kits from a dead mate to worry about. But if that was the case, I would likely have felt even more pressure to find a new mate. It's still a distinct possibility."

He wasn’t surprised at how much she’d thought of her mother being responsible, but he was dismayed. Forced to take a mate? And she spoke so simply of her dead mate. Had he been forced upon her too? Dawnclaw swallowed hard, jaw clenching as his claws unsheathed to dig at the dirt.

"Another thought is that maybe she only intended to take one or two.” He narrowed his eyes, unsure of where that was going. “I could imagine her taking them as punishment for trying to keep them away from her. Or for naming Blizzardkit something so un-queenly. In which case she would have one or two go missing as an excuse to stay closer to those left while watching me suffer. If that was the case, then for all three to be gone her plan would've gone awry, some unforeseen disaster."

Dawnclaw stood and stepped closer, and he placed a paw over the top of hers with a meaningful look. “She may have put someone up to it,” he said. “Who else could have motivation for this? For kits to disappear so thoroughly, the cat couldn’t have been working alone, whether it was Swanflight or not. And there are so many loners so close to our lands, they may have still been smuggled through them.”

He frowned and drew his paw back to sit down in front of her. “Most loners are amicable enough, from what I know. I believe your kits to be safe.” If death was desired, he was sure their bodies would have been found in the nursery, not gone missing. “Someone has them for a purpose. And someone sent them to wherever they are…. And I do fear it was someone here. It’s unlikely any loner or another Clan was in camp, all scents were normal, right?”

He hadn’t been there, but he’d asked questions when he was first accused. Yet still, he hadn’t heard everything. He hadn’t heard it from Irisfrost herself.

“Tell me everything we have. We can get back to training later. Maybe we’ll come up with enough to go to Hailstar about searching further together.”

Irisfrost shut her eyes and breathed deep — he couldn’t blame her. "You're right, having an outside cat to smuggle them too would be easier. Even easier if two cats in camp worked together, one to distract while another sneaks them out."

He nodded, having much the same thoughts. But if she couldn’t remember anything out of the ordinary, what was the distraction? Had someone been waiting outside camp for cats stealthy enough to sneak bouncy kits away? There were so many questions to ask, and none had an answer.

"That day, I got up for a walk. When I left they were calm. Curled up together. I think they might've been napping? Or just tired." He gave a shade of a smile, hearing her love for them, seeing her pain for them. "I came back, they weren't in the nursery. I looked around camp, I thought they were playing a game. Or exploring, they loved to explore… And when I realized... well it was chaos. Everyone was looking for them. I really remember the emotions more than anything else. I can't recall odd scents or smells, but I wasn't looking for anything odd. All I wanted was to find them."

Dawnclaw took a deep breath and held it, brow furrowing. He wished he’d been there, wished he had something more than speculation to offer. He let the breath go in a puff.

“Have you questioned everyone?” he asked. He was sure she had, but he needed confirmation. “I think it would be wise to question the Clan again. Everyone who was around then.”