Onestar's Kits

A fail non-canon story by your truly. Cleverpelt

Onestar's Kits
Onewhisker padded through the moor, sniffing around for prey. Whitetail popped up in front of him, and said something that shocked Onewhisker.

“Onewhisker, I’m expecting kits. Your kits.”

“Wonderful!” purred Onewhisker, stretching forward to nuzzle his mate. ''My kits. Her kits. They are going to be wonderful.''



“Push!” cried Onewhisker. He couldn’t bear seeing Whitetail in such pain.

“Come on,” soothed Barkface. “There’s only one coming.”

“Well, it feels like a thousand!” snapped Whitetail. She turned to look at Onewhisker. “Help,” she whispered.

Onewhisker tried to walk towards her, bur Barkface pushed him back. “The first kit is coming,” he hissed.

Whitetail gasped in pain. Barkface massaged her belly as a kit slithered out. He bit open the sac and licked the kit fiercely.

“Well?” demanded Onewhisker.

“He’s breathing.” Barkface sighed in relief.

The kit wailed as he snuggled closer to Whitetail. He began to suckle, kneading his mother’s soft belly.

“This is our son,” Onewhisker told her tenderly. He pressed his muzzle to her head. “You can call him whatever you want to.”

“How about Owlkit?” asked Whitetail.

“Owlkit would be perfect,” Onewhisker said, licking the top of his newly-named son’s brown head.

Onewhisker watched as his son grew into Owlpaw, then Owlwhisker. It wasn't until Onewhisker had been named Onestar that he heard those words again.

“Onestar, I’m expecting your kits.” Whitetail had said.

“Again?” Onestar asked.

“Yes, again! Are you pleased?” Whitetail asked.

“Yes!” cried Onestar.

So Whitetail had another kit. It came by herself, like the first one, and was a brown tabby, too. Onestar remembered her kitting.

“I named Owlwhisker. You name her!” Whitetail had laughed.

“Fine.” Onestar had replied. “Do you like Heatherkit?”

“It suits her just fine!” Whitetail mewed, looking at her daughter.

Now Onestar sat at the entrance to his den sometimes, watching Heathertail and Owlwhisker sit proudly together.

Onestar leaned over to Whitetail and whispered, “I couldn't be more proud of my kits,” he mewed.

“Me neither.” Replied Whitetail.

 The (Lame) End