Rise from the Ashes

Characters:

Starling M (42 moons)

Willow F (47 moons)

Rain's Shadow M (21 moons)

Dancing Stars F (28 moons)

Withering Mist F (1 moon)

Rising from Ashes M (1 moon)

Dying Cinders M (1 moon)

P r o l o g u e: w i l l o w

'Willow! You can do this.' A small voice in my head said. My stomach heaved with my new kits. 'Oh my kits. Just survive this last snowstorm, I promise.' The snowstorm was worse than ever and it was even worse because of my tiny kits. They had become a wiggling worm for the last few days. A blast of icy wind greeted me as I moved down the slippery slope. Rain's Shadow was next to me, but his compliments are nothing to me but some dung. He doesn't know how it feels like to be me right now. "You can do this Willow! Just a few more steps then you are almost at the beginning of the forest! Then you can give birth to the wonderful kits I will know you will have…" Rain's Shadow babbled on and on while I glanced at the endless valley below me. It was impossible. The sheets of ice clung on to me like burrs on my pelt. My paws were… no. I can't even feel them. Rain's Shadow talked on and on while I struggled in the wind. I promised Starling I would meet him there with my chattering nephew but I knew that was just one promise I couldn't make. I collapsed on the rocky slope, my stomach hurting more than ever. This was the place my kits would be born. Then my stomach dropped into a dizzying black.

A small jerk of pain woke me. It was my kits. I didn't imagine I was even alive. The pebbles that stuck to my aching back felt more like needles than pebbles. Rain wasn't here. No one was. Obviously they abandoned me. They didn't need a small withering pregnant she cat. Another thing caught my mind. A agile but muscular ink jet black she cat with shining stars on her pelt. Is it stars? I really didn't care though. The quiet she cat walked briskly towards me, seeing that I was awake. "Hello, tired one. Your kits are coming. I am Dancing Stars by the way. Sorry if I disturbed you but I can't leave a hurt one dying," she said, in a more of a commanding type of voice. "Another fine fellow, I think his name was… Chatter Box? Fox Dung? No… it was Rain's Shadow, who went down the valley, searching for a tom named Starling. I suppose he is your mate? He wanted to let him know you were kitting. He was foolish, alas, to leave you alone," she continued, dryly. Another jolt of pain surged though me. I tried not to flinch at the pain. Dancing Stars did not continue her talking; she brought me only some moss and a stick. My temper already grouchy from the pains, I blurted out, "Why did you only gimme moss and a stick?! Fox dung. I thought there will be a special herb type thing for me?!?! You are the lousiest thing in the world. Yes, thing. I don't even consider you a cat!" I rambled on and on until she shushed me. By then, I was feeling like the Dancing Stars thing was trying to kill me. Why else would she give me a stick? Is that a magical wand or something? I afraid so, it was not. "You are a first timer, aren't you. Kitting is the most natural thing in the world. As long as you have enough strength, you will be able to withstand the pains of kitting," Dancing Stars said very patiently, like instructing a kit to hunt. The stick in my mouth broke as my first wave of a new type of pain settled in me.

I knew pain. I withstood many pains, from a broken leg (which I still have a very slight limp from.) to a long ragged scar on my flank from an infected scratch. But this was in a whole new level. My breath literally blew off as my first kit started slithering through. I can't tell you how bad I felt. It was worse than I ever felt. You wouldn't be able to feel the same level as pain as I did. But I had three healthy kits after what it seemed like moons. Dancing Stars was next to me the entire time, guiding me to the progress and letting me relax. She is a natural healer. By the time we were done, Rain and Starling was next to me, soothing me. I had three kits, a blackish blue kit like Starling, and two russety colored kits. The blackish blue one was small and withering; she was the runt. "Let's name her Withering Mist." Starling agreed. We named the rest, Rising from the Ashes and Dying Cinders.

//το βε ςοnτιnuεδ//