Eve had agreed to join The Kingdom and Laurelfern had been thrilled. She had been so sure the ruddy-furred she-cat would prove to be a valuable member of their group, and she already had. She’d brought with her beneficial skills and also her littermate, who had priceless knowledge. Eve would also eventually bring kits to The Kingdom, kits who would give Kingdom cats hope, hope that this wasn’t all for nothing. Laurelfern had been adamant that Eve spend the last stretch of her pregnancy in camp so she could relax. Eve had, after all, spent a majority of her pregnancy fighting to survive. She deserved some rest, because for the next six moons, she’s going to be very busy trying to rein in her kits. Laurelfern knew all too well what Eve had signed up for. Her boys had been the tiny terrors of RidgeClan. Looking after them had been exhausting, but it had been worth it. Today would be a happy day for The Kingdom.

As she crossed the clearing to the nursery - the first den they’d built - to check on Eve’s progress, a low wail flooded Laurelfern’s ears. She froze in place in the center of the camp and knew immediately what had happened. One, or more, of Eve’s litter didn’t make it. She lowered her head as sorrow rushed through her and closed her eyes tightly as if she were in pain. Eve’s moans of grief made Laurelfern try to close her eyes even tighter. Eve was living every parent’s worst fear. She needed support. With a deep, shaky breath, Laurelfern found the strength within herself to continue onward. What she felt was nothing compared to what Eve was feeling. She was lucky enough to have both her children still with her. She slipped into the nursery and her gaze immediately settled on Eve, crying into the lifeless form of her kit. Laurelfern looked away from the tragic scene, releasing yet another shaky breath, and found Sable in the den. She gestured for the dark-pelted cat to exit the den and Sable was kind enough to oblige.

Laurelfern sat down, curling her tail over her paws and stared down at the ground. She didn’t think it would be right to leave Eve alone right now, but she also didn’t think it would be appropriate to interrupt her mourning. While she patiently waited, she took this time to collect herself. When Eve was ready to talk or even just sit in silence together, Laurelfern had to be prepared, too. She closed her eyes, not too tight this time, and focused on her breathing. In, out, in out. Each breath had trembled ever since she heard Eve’s heartbreaking wail, but they steadied as she concentrated. Eventually, she felt more like herself, like she could remain composed during what was sure to be a difficult interaction with Eve. Even once her breathing was back to normal, Laurelfern refused to open her eyes, trying to give the new mother the privacy she deserved while also not leaving her completely alone. She remained still, barely moving except for the subtle rise and fall of her chest so as to not disturb Eve’s grieving, and tried to stay strong as she listened to the queen’s sobs.

Laurelfern was both grateful and surprised Eve had spoken to her so soon. She had expected to sit there in silence for a long time, but it was nice to hear the queen’s voice, even if her tone was full of heartbreak. The fact that Eve was talking meant she hadn’t gotten lost in her grief. It was there, the distress, and there was lots of it, but Eve managed to remain aware of her surroundings - at least, enough to notice Laurelfern was present. She opened her eyes in time to meet the queen’s gaze, which silently begged her to agree to her request, and thought that even if she wanted to, there was no way she could bring herself to reject the new mother. “Of course,” Laurelfern meowed softly, quietly rising to her paws and making her way around Eve. She was careful to keep her distance. Eve had proved she trusted Laurelfern by asking her to keep her daughter warm, but she didn’t want to risk a mother’s wrath by unintentionally disturbing the distraught she-cat and her lifeless kit. She wasn’t sure what might set Eve off, but she didn’t want to find out.

Eve’s daughter continued to wail until Laurelfern carefully settled down around her, pulling the kit close. She shifted slightly to find a more comfortable position, making sure she didn’t accidentally hurt the newborn as she did so. Kits were resilient, but she’d never forgive herself if she somehow messed up. Fortunately, she remembered her time in RidgeClan’s nursery when her sons had been born and she seemed to instinctively know what to do. They were in the mountains in leaf-bare with harsh, cold winds howling past the entrance to the den. Luckily, they were inside the nursery, but Laurelfern still felt the urge to protect the she-kit from the elements. She curled even tighter around her and licked the kit’s fur in the opposite direction in an attempt to warm her up. The kit’s cries died down and once she was sure there was nothing more she could do for the child, Laurelfern glanced up to check on Eve.

Her ears twitched as Eve whispered, picking up on what she said, and she had to tightly close her eyes for a moment to fight back tears. Laurelfern looked at Eve this time instead of averting her gaze, hoping she’d look back at her and see in her eyes how much she meant what she was about to say. “Eve, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Her tone was firm, but compassionate, like she needed Eve to understand how true her words were while also trying to avoid causing the queen any more pain. “I know there’s nothing I can say to ease your suffering, but you must know there’s nothing you could’ve done differently.” There was sorrow in Laurelfern’s expression as she continued, “There’s not always someone to blame. Sometimes these things just happen and there’s nothing we can do about it. I’m aware that’s not exactly a comforting thought, but it’s the truth. You did everything right, Eve.”