mint leaf [closed for clover, kits, and swan]

Hesitantly, Mintkit poked her head out of the nursery. The sun was shining bright. Real bright.

The tiny kit — not yet two and a quarter moons — squinted, almost painfully. Sunlight still lit through the reeds of their den, but in more of a soft glow, warm and perfect for naps. It was lit more gently. But Mintkit was tired of naps, and the den was also so... full!

There were lots of kits and queens in the nursery; often so many Mintkit felt they could get lost and jumbled — wrong kits with wrong mothers! Sometimes, Mintkit whispered to them to help, nudging with paws and tail; she mostly knew every kit, by pelt if not by name. But it was hard to keep track of!

Some kits got mistaken, and some mothers (in the dark mostly). But her mother couldn’t have been mistaken ever, by anyone — pure white, with pretty yellow eyes that Mintkit could find even in the dark. And her brother and her sister, too. They had light pelts, light eyes. And, well, they were in there… in the nursery.

But… it was still full. So Mintkit blinked, shaking her head, until the sun didn’t seem so bright, and stepped out with a little hop... and into some snow. It was always so cold! But it was a familiar thing, and the only thing she’d ever known. She only brrr’d into her fluffy grey coat a moment before setting off with an excited squeak, bits of snow on her whiskers.

She’d been out before, of course. But not without grandfather Snowdash or their mom — she’d been too little, probably. But Mintkit walked fine now, and spoke like grandfather, and so she went around to the familiar sights: the dens, the river, the reeds and the sun and the snow. Sticking her head in, sneaking around corners, pouncing on shallow snowdrifts... No one stopped her!

Only…

She paused, by the pile of… fish, she remembered. That was the word. All in reds and browns and silvers, a little icy from the snow. She sniffed.

It smelled… vaguely like food, but not milk or rich mouse, and not bad. Familiar, like it lingered on everyone, touched every place.

Mintkit approached, curious. They were so... cool looking.

But... whenever her mother came near anycat with it, the white queen turned away sharply, as if it pained her — and Mintkit saw something pass through grandfather’s eyes, too. Her mother flinched. It was for others, but… not them? They never ate it, not even when it was given to them.

Something in her understood, chest tightening, and the young kit turned away too. They seemed so… pretty, and shiny, and some were small enough to bat between her paws. It was enticing! But… maybe it wasn’t good.

Mom wouldn’t like it.

Mintkit considered going back — the sight of the fish making her feel weird — but it was then that she noticed it. A scent. Something... different! Kind of familiar. Sharp, strong... Not like fish! But like she’d been near it before. Something that some queens, and kits, smelled like.

Or — oh! When cats were hurting.

Nose to the ground, briefly, the young grey kit padded across well-worn, snowy trails to find where it was strongest. And… it was another den? It looked much like the others, except instead of cats, it smelled like something else.

Oh! It smelled like plants. Not like reeds, but like bits of green.

With only a brief hesitance, Mintkit slipped inside. She’d certainly never been here before... but once again, nobody stopped her. Mintkit snuck in curiously, her right paw — a little crooked, with soft bones beneath; molding further with every step — curled beside her chest.

Swanmist never thought this would happen. Something felt different. Every time she glanced at one of the three alive kits she felt some sort of... protective... instinct? It... kept growing stronger. They were probably old enough to eat solid prey now and she had been keeping them very far away from fish. she fed them stories that she were convinced that were true...

All because she wanted to... protect... them...?

Mintkit was growing fine, even with her weird paw... Swanmist didn't really think of it as weird anymore... Her... unique paw, seemed like a better fit.

Flurrykit was fine, too. She was a little feisty, definitely a fighter, but the whole litter had been weak.

But still, every time she looked down at Pebblekit, a feeling got caught in her chest. It's not his fault. But... he definitely had issues. He was very wobbly on his paws, even though he should've been walking okay by now.

Her father- the kits grandfather, had been helping her. Helping her through the pains of these... Things... No- not things, kits, her kits. Everything felt wrong, but... At least Snowdash was there. Sitting next to her, watching over the two other kits. She lifted her body a little as Mintkit began walking out. Snowdash rushed towards Pebblekit as Swanmist stood up. What was the little kit doing?

What if she got hurt?

She padded towards the exit of the nursery, her tail lifted slightly, her head tilted and she peeked outside. No... She was being too protective. Just let-

Her fur raised as her kit stopped near the fresh kill pile- with the fish. She was approaching it, her paw hesitated as she instinctively went to come outside of the nursery. But- to her relief, her kit turned away.

She was safe.

The scent of fish on her or her kits would bring dogs, but, oh, the prey pile was already so low, this leafbare was already proving to be a harsh one, but cats had survived in the past. But... Even in the warmer season the kits and I were still so thin... Dogs and twolegs would make it worse.

She was convinced she was protecting her clan like this... But her fur wasn't soft, it was rough to the touch, not silky, not smooth... Not... Healthy.

Swanmist just had to pretend she was fine. She would get through, her kits would grow up.

They won't eat the fish and they wont attract the dogs...

She was so caught up in her worried thoughts she hadn't noticed Mintkit was heading towards... The... Medicine den? Oh no- she wouldn't want her to bother poor Cloverheart. She rushed over there, her ribs slightly visible when she turned, even through all of that thick, clumpy fur, when she was close enough, she whispered to her kit. "Mintkit, you're allowed around camp, but please, leave Cloverheart alone, she's busy enough..." Her voice was quiet, soft, yet shaky and somewhat weak. Her eyes and ears drooping with sleepiness, but how could she sleep? She hadn't shut her eyes for a big sleep for a couple of days already, she took very short naps. Because she was a horrible mother if she let the kits go off, eat fish, get killed by dogs and be haunted by the loss of her father while she was in a deep sleep.

Deep in thought, Mintkit's exit from the nursery went unnoticed. For Flurrykit, it was highly unusual for her to be somewhat disconnected from her surroundings. It was only when her mother's flank bumped against her thin body that she realized Mintkit was not in the den. However, thoughts were still whirling in her mind, distracting her from whatever was going on.

Lately, Flurrykit had observed how her mother always looked uncomfortable for a brief moment whenever she happened to glance at the kit's littermate. Was she worried because Pebblekit was too weak to walk properly? No... That's not it. Something else..

Her long, now matted fur sagged when she got onto her paws. Poking her head out the nursery, she realized that she was disappointed her father hadn't been there to greet her. To the kit, he was a mystery. An unknown thing. She longed to understand why he had never visited them in the nursery or why her mother always changed the subject whenever his name was mentioned. It even felt wrong to be thinking about him. Still, her conscience wouldn't stop her curiosity. It's my right to know! she reasoned.

She saw her mother padding towards Mintkit and ran after her, just catching what she had said to Mintkit. Now's my chance- "Mom...?" she begun, hesitant to ask. "Why doesn't dad ever visit?" Before she could respond, the kit bursted with a realization. "Is it because he doesn't like us?? Because.. because he- ...doesn't want us? " Her voice choked into a soft mewl at the end, her piercing yellow eyes round with sadness.

Pebblekit had been dozing comfortably between the warmth of his littermates and his mother— then, of course, a chill began to creep into the nest as one by one they stepped out into the snowy camp. With a yawn, he turned over onto his side in a flail of gangly little limbs to see where everyone went.

Did Flurrykit and Mintkit go out to play without him? It was entirely possible— Pebblekit often had some trouble trying to keep up with his sisters. The little tom looked up to see his grandfather watching over him instead of his mother.

Did Swanmist take his sisters out into camp without him? The thought sent an icy thrill down his spine. He had noticed the way she had looked at him. She didn’t look at his sisters the way she looked at him. She didn’t seem to like him all that much. Maybe she was trying to ignore him.

Pebblekit’s fur bristled and his bushy tail lashed from side to side. He would have to be a lot harder to ignore.
“Ma!” He yowled, bunching his legs up underneath him to launch himself as far as he could out of the nursery. The tom flew barely a tail length before he hit the snowy ground and rolled, sending up a shower of white fluff.

“Ma! I wanna come too!” Pebblekit scrambled to his paws, stumbling a little too far to the right before course correcting sharply to the left. His fur was caked in snow and he’d already begun to shiver from the cold but he was determined.

A half-limp paw dangled over a loose pile of poppy seeds, as if it was ready to reach for them yet too unbothered to go through with it. Letting her leg rest and slowly lower, Cloverheart observed the seeds for a moment before just sighing and turning away. There will only so many of them– not enough to carry the Clan through leaf-bare. And she'd be so hard-pressed to find more, not without spending more time out of camp than she wanted to, not without burying herself in the snow, and–

And the sound of uneven pawsteps and reeds rustling pulled her out of her thoughts. Slowly turning, the medicine cat's attention slid over to find who had decided to join her. It was just a kit– one of Swanmist's kits. That one was... she couldn't remember the name straight away, but it was the one with the twisted paw. I don't really need to think to know that." Cloverheart thought idly as her gaze drifted to the paw in question.

Rising to stand, the she-cat closed the short distance between them, looming for a moment before lowering herself into an uncomfortable crouch. "Hello," she mewed gently. Before she could go on to ask for a name, larger pawsteps followed. Swanmist was lurking just outside.

"It's okay!" Cloverheart called, giving the kit a pitying look before pushing back to height. "It's fine, I promise. I'm not busy at all." Tapping her tail against the kit's flank, Cloverheart brushed outside, into the cold and the snow.

It wasn't long before the rest of the family followed: another frail-looking she-kit, and... a tom-kit, who was trying his best to sprint after his family, even if he was lunging in every direction except the one he wanted to go in. Letting the rest of the litter tumble closer, Cloverheart blinked slowly before hazy green eyes turned to focus on their mother. "I see you've brought everyone," she started softly, whiskers twitching. "What brings you all here? Or does one of the kits want to tell me?"

The little grey kit had her nose to the ground, sniffing the smells. They're so different.[i] Even if it clogged her nose a bit. But then she heard a sound, like shuffling, and... it was a [i]cat? (Someone lived here?) And she smelled much like this place, too!

"Hello," Mintkit mewed shyly back. But the molly wasn't scary; her voice was nice and not too loud. She wasn't a queen, either -- Mintkit knew all those -- but still, the little kit felt she'd seen her before. Her fur was so... different, than theirs'. And Mintkit noticed she had markings on her, like thin strips of bare skin. Some warriors had them, too, didn't they...? Pawsteps thudded behind Mintkit, but the kit could hardly pay that any mind, as she was busy taking in the new, kind stranger. 

And then, with a blink, Mintkit looked up with wide eyes. 

It was her mom, above her. I thought she was asleep. Swanmist's scent was always soothing, and still faintly like milk, and the little kit nestled closer. Sometimes her mom seemed... unhappy, like a little buzz of it around her, but being close seemed to make it better. She also spoke very, very softly -- but Mintkit's ears were sensitive. "Oh," Mintkit mewed, then glanced back at the stranger with pretty, patterned fur.

Cloverheart. Cl-o-ver? That was her name?

Just after, she heard her sister say something, too -- voice tinier and yet louder than their mom's -- and Mintkit turned. I don't ask those things... but I want to know, too. It seemed forgotten, though, as the patterned molly told her mother it was all fine, and Mintkit was okay. Oh, that's good. There was a touch on her side, gentle, as the plant-smelling molly guided them out into the snow. 

Now Mintkit could see Flurrykit; small and the whitest of their litter, like Grandpa Snowdash. Part of Mintkit had always wanted to be like them, too -- like their mama -- but... other kits must have been grey like her and Pebble, in the family. Right? (Not just... their dad, who Swanmist also flinched at the mention of.) It was hard to tell with her sister, but hesitantly, Mintkit laid her head on Flurrykit's shoulder as she passed, brushing pelts. Hoping it was okay. "I wanna know, too," she mewed quietly, glancing into her eyes, then turned away.

As she did, Mintkit saw a glimpse of her brother. "You're here too?" 

Ears perking, Mintkit saw as her brother ran for them, calling for their mom. Dashing one way, and then the other... Pebblekit was always like that. It was silly! (And he was always silly; it made her smile.) The desire to pounce on him -- tackling them both into the snow to wrestle -- was suddenly very tempting as he grew closer. She struggled with the decision, a look of intense thought on her tiny face. But--

But then Flurry was sad, so maybe she wouldn't join them -- and Cloverheart was right there. (She was nice, but still a stranger.) Too bad, she thought, tail swaying; they could have a really good game in this snow. ...Later. 

Didn't mean Mintkit didn't give him a quick, playful nip on the ear, though, as he skidded to a stop beside them. It was her brother. "Hey, Pebble," she mewed. And then the new, strange-smelling molly was talking to them, and not many cats talked to them, so she swivelled around. 

Mintkit's eyes found their mother -- but was the molly talking to Mintkit? "Um... I thought your den smelled different, so I came to look at it," she spoke up; it felt... weird, talking as loud as Cloverheart, but maybe not bad. Then tilted her head. "But you're the medicine cat, right?"

Swanmist glanced back, hearing voices behind her, kit voices, her kit's voices. She looked a bit worried as she saw Pebblekit stumbling about, it was normal for him but he was in the middle of camp, he could be stepped on! Or... worse! She noticed Snowdash slowly leaving the nursery, but not before freezing at Flurrykit's question. She bent down, whispering really quietly. "Because he's a very bad cat. He doesn't like me, you, or your littermates. That's how bad he is..." She shook her head slowly before her ears perked up to Cloverheart's voice.

She did... have something on her mind.

She wasn't going to talk, she didnt know Cloverheart that well and talking made her uncomfortable. She had been using a mix of signing and voice when it came to communication. But only some some cats she was close to. Swanmist started by waving her paw and Mintkit and Pebblekit. Tilting her head after she was done.

What's wrong with them? That's what she wanted to ask, but she was unsure if it came through.

She had taught the kits a little bit about her signing, so she glanced back to see if any of them would want to be a translator for her or something..  if they even understood.

Hopefully they do, hopefully Cloverheart does... I don't want to cause confusion because I'm uncomfortable with using my voice... Wouldn't it be nice if everyone was just a whole lot quieter? Swanmist got into a comfortable sit, taking a deep breath to stop her thoughts from racing.

Suddenly the fluffy white kit discovered that it was rather crowded. The whole family was here, and a stranger too! It was rather claustrophobic. All the sounds, weird scents, combined with the information her mother was telling her was overwhelming. Flurrykit wanted to shut her ears, squeeze her eyes tight and go hide somewhere quiet. Her legs didn't feel like carrying her and the warmth from Mintkit's pelt against hers made her curl up in the snow, tail over her nose. The noise died down. Her mom was signing to the stranger, but Flurrykit wanted to be left alone with her thoughts.

My dad... he doesn't like me, or minty or pebble. why? There's nothing wrong with us! Why...? Minty's lucky paw, pebble's.. silly.. ness- and me.. we're just special! How could he say he didn't like us? We didn't even get to meet him! He.. he- he left us. He abandoned us.. h-how dare he?! We deserve better than that! Mom, deserves better than that.. if- if we're the reason he left.. no- abandoned us.. why.. did he abandon mom too? If he could see the state mom is in now.. I- I.. hate him.

That was her conclusion. She hated him.

Pebblekit had managed to catch up to the rest of his family. Mint nipped at his ear and he gave her a playful nudge, side eyeing her in case she decided to return the gesture.  That’s when he caught the tail end of Flurry’s question.
Oh, right. Pa… He frowned and settled-- well, more flopped onto his side-- beside his sisters. He hadn’t thought much about the tom that everyone else said was their father. Unlike the other kits, their Pa never visited the nursery or played with them. He barely even knew him.
“... He doesn’t like me, you, or your littermates…” Pebblekit heard Swanmist whisper. Then we don’t have to like him back, he thought with an indifferent sniff. He never needed his Pa, anyway. Swanmist and Snowdash and his littermates were all he needed.
The little tom looked up when the conversation hit a lull to see Swanmist was trying to sign to Cloverheart. Pebblekit looked from Mint to Flurry; when neither of them spoke up, he lurched back up onto his paws.
“Ma wants you to look at us.” He piped up, trying to catch his mother’s eye to see if he’d interpreted right. “Dunno why, though… I feel fine...”

The first of the kits to arrive piped up from Cloverheart's heels, and the she-cat let out a gentle purr in response. "Yes, I'm the medicine cat. And yes, my den smells funny," she mewed softly, ears lowering at the sound of Swanmist's strained voice. A gentle paw moved to draw Mintkit closer to her, as if somehow she could keep the little thing from hearing about their father. It seemed... cold, to tell them that way. I guess I can appreciate the honesty, at least.

With that out of the way, it seemed like Swanmist had more important things on her mind as she gestured towards her kits. Cloverheart's expression soured at the question at paw, whiskers twitching in distant acknowledgment as Pebblekit rose up to translate. "Thank you. That was very helpful," She murmured to the tom-kit. Rising up a little, she stretched out a paw to sweep Pebblekit and Flurrykit closer to her. "Now, you're all going to sit still while I look you over, right?" Of course they weren't. They were kits. It was nice to ask, anyway, especially in that sweet little voice; if she was lucky, they would at least nod and pretend to be patient and quiet.

Flurrykit looked... fine. Thin, with heavy, patchy fur. When Cloverheart pressed a nose to her hip, she wasn't met with bone, though. That was better than anything. Green eyes flickered sharply towards Swanmist, but the look only lingered for a moment before she turned her attention to the kits with a smile. "Flurrykit, you look fine. Go play." Mintkit and Pebblekit, though... At least she didn't have to look Mintkit over too closely to know what was wrong with her. Thin, too, just like the rest of her family, and a twisted paw Cloverheart wasn't sure if she could set. At least Pebblekit looked healthy; she wouldn't have guessed anything was wrong with him except for going hungry if she hadn't watched the way he had tried to gallop across camp.

She wasn't sure if she could set Mintkit's paw, but she could at least help it grow stronger. She would make a good warrior, in time. The brother, though... "You two can both go play with your sister. Not too rough, now." Even if the kits chose to linger around their paws, she at least tried to dismiss them. It wouldn't be her fault if they heard anything they weren't meant to.

"Swanmist," Cloverheart started gently as she rose back to height, eyes level with the pale warrior. "Have you been feeding them? For that matter– have you been feeding yourself?" Swanmist's pelt hung from her thin frame like it was the coat of another. The medicine cat grimaced at the idea. "I don't know how much I can do for them, not at this point. Mintkit and Flurrykit I'm sure will be fine– they might have a wobble, but they'll be fine. They'll grow up strong and healthy. Your boy, though..." Her words trailed, and she shrugged. He would survive his kithood, probably, but Cloverheart wasn't sure how far he would make it beyond that. Maybe he'll surprise us all. Maybe he'll be the best warrior RiverClan's ever had. She thought about the kit, a little older, trying to swim, or trying to outrun a particularly hungry weasel. She hated the thoughts and shuddered them away.

"They need to be eating, Swanmist. Fish. Not just the little mice and water voles. They're growing up– they need a lot more food than you probably think. So do you. Fish. And they need to be outside. I know it's cold, but you have a whole Clan of warriors dedicated to watching them. They won't freeze, or get lost, or bother anyone. They need the space and the sun." Cloverheart paused, tipping her head this way and that, then not-so-gently added: "It would do you well to spend that time outside with them. You can bring them to me, too. You can come see me, too. Let me do my job, and let me look after you all."

Mintkit was tempted to push Pebble back, once she’d replied to Cloverheart  — but that would probably end in them wrestling. (It was tempting.) But then their Mama leaned in to whisper to Flurrykit. Ears perked and sensitive, the little kit wanted to hear — but then a large paw pulled her further away.

It was… something about their dad, for sure. Not good. From her littermates’ frowns. But… Mintkit knew that. He won’t look at us like Mom won’t look at fish.

It felt like something very sad, to not be looked at. And it wasn’t usually like that. Mintkit watched the other kits, and their dads were different; they smiled at them and played with them. But that’s what Grandpa Snowdash is for. Their Mama’s dad did that for them.

She sniffed, deep in this thought. And then realized next to Cloverheart, Mintkit could smell the funny stuff really all over her. Even outside. It almost tickled her nose! She wanted to ask why when she heard Pebble’s voice. And then, soon after, the medicine cat gently pulled her littermates closer, too. And then looked them in the eyes.

The little grey kit looked at both her siblings, then back. And then nodded — even if the desire to nip Pebble again was strong! I can be still… I think.

Mintkit couldn’t keep her lucky paw off Pebble’s ears, though, while Flurrykit went first. She still felt a little sad at the thought of their dad, but fluffy things were her true distraction. She giggled. “You’ve got big ears, Pebble,” she whispered. They all did, but as the tallest, Mintkit could touch theirs.

Then it was her and Pebble’s turn. It didn’t really hurt; the stranger — but not really anymore — was gentle, and looked her over with those big, green eyes. At some point it tickled, and Cloverheart seemed to focus on her lucky paw. Not long, though.

Told to go play, Mintkit nodded. It would have been eagerly, because playing was what she’d wanted to do this whole time… but there was something in Cloverheart’s eyes. Like she was thinking deep. And the cat frowned, when looking at Pebblekit, if briefly. Does she think something’s wrong?

So she padded away a bit slowly, batting at the snow. But her sensitive ears could still hear the sound of the pretty cat’s voice, maybe more than they could tell. And Mintkit heard bits of words. I need to eat? But… fish are bad.

The little kit didn’t quite catch the rest. But… something about Pebblekit? And fish and sun. She swiveled her ears. I’ll have to ask Mama. But Pebble’s fine. I think. She butted heads with her brother, to seal the thought, and padded to brush pelts with her sister, too.

But for some reason, she didn’t feel all too much like playing anymore.