Ever since Wormwood had killed thirteen cats, there had been a certain melancholy in camp. Even now, after he'd been killed, their grief had not gone, nor would it for some time. Mountainsound, personally, felt stifled by the air, perhaps because it was her own child that had caused it, and had left without a word, traveling beyond the furthest reaches of the territory to where Wormwood's grave laid. It wasn't surprising, perhaps, that he hadn't been allowed to be buried on sacred land, let alone among the sunflowers that were so meaningful to the cats of the clan. They had, however, been kind enough to allow Mountainsound and her family to give him a proper burial, albeit one that wasn't in rogue lands. So here her son resided, by the roots of a large tree, stones heaped upon the grave to signify his final resting place.

    Some, probably wondered why she would come out here. He was a monster in every sense of the word. Wormwood deserved no grief, no sympathy. But that wasn't the way of the Senator. Much like her mate, she couldn't hate her son. She hated what he had become, yet she couldn't bring herself to hate the kitten he'd once been, or the kind Soothsayer he'd started out as.