First Taste of Winter [FennelSoot Kits]

When he had first heard the familiar shriek that had pierced the chilly air, his first instinct was to jump to his paws and rush to his mate. It didn't take long for him to realize that Fennelbreeze faced no danger-- or rather, no danger that he could protect him from. Sootstorm insisted on staying by his mate's side, despite knowing that he could offer little in the birth process. He may even be getting in Daisyfang's way, but for once the tom was acting irrationally. His tail stroked Fennelbreeze's flank, only stopping once Daisyfang nearly bit it off.

The scent of blood was heavy in the air. Sootstorm closed his eyes to calm himself down, only for that awful memory to resurface. Ferntwist. Rabbitkit. Acornkit. Greykit. His claws slid into the soft moss, and distantly he could hear Daisyfang announce something. Just as he did for Tallshadow, when his son was on the verge of death, he prayed to StarClan. Please, if Fennelbreeze had to leave him too, at the very least let him say goodbye. Let him tell her how much she meant to him. Let him have a chance to spend one last day with her.

A part of him was convinced that Fennelbreeze wouldn't make it through. She was sick, it was in the middle of Leafbare, and they had barely any herbs on them. And StarClan had proven time and time again to be unreliable. He licked Fennelbreeze's ears in a soothing rhythm, more of a way to comfort himself that her. She was still here, alive, and here she would remain. Daisyfang was here. The other Clans were just a whisker away, if anything happened. She'd be- she'd be fine. She had to be.

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.
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He didn't even realize that it was over until Fennelbreeze spoke up, her gentle voice, though strained from the screaming, finally formed words. Stoatkit, Rapidkit and Fidgetkit. Sootstorm blinked the tears out of his eyes as his gaze focused first one the five lively bundles nestled in the curve of the queen's belly, then up to meet his mate's weary eyes. He echoed the names, tasting them on his tongue. "They're beautiful," He spoke up at last, surprised at how raspy his voice was. How long had he been crying? His tail curled around Fennelbreeze's, and gently he nuzzled her cheek. All the while, his gaze was scanning her body, checking for the slightest signs of sickness. Was she coughing again? He'd better speak to Daisyfang, and see if they could find any herbs to help Fennelbreeze. "I'm so proud of you," He whispered.

A squeak from the kits brought his attention back to them. Sootstorm blinked at the two unnamed kits, two perfect daughters. One was a soft, milky white, with bursts of cream closer to her eyes and tail. Her ears were curled like her mother's. He touched his nose gently to the she-kit's flank, breathing in her sweet scent, and named the first thing that came to mind. "Heatherkit," he purred, peering over at his mate as if to check that the name he had chosen was alright. He then turned his attention to the second she-kit. Cream and silver patches covered her fur, blending into each other by darker stripes. She, too, had curled ears. A small milky tooth poked out of her jaw, and already her mews were louder than her littermates'. Sootstorm cooed as he rested his paw gently on her, laughing softly at her firey personality. "Crakekit?" He suggested, reminded of the small bird by his daughter's pelt. Crakekit and Heatherkit. His two beautiful daughters.

His kits were certainly cute, and very active. And aggressive as well, it seems, as the kit he had just named Crakekit suddenly lashed out like a disturbed beetle, and in her fit of sudden rage her fangs sank into his paw pad. Sootstorm yelped, hurriedy removing his paw from his daughter and giving the wound a sniff. It oozed a little blood, and he winced to imagine the pain that would come from walking later that day. Before he could process that his newborn daughter had somehow just managed to attack him, Daisyfang and Lavendercloud were offering their congratulations. He dipped his head in thanks, but even before he could open his mouth they were gone, leaving him with his tired mate and his litter of wriggling bundles of fur-- and tooth, apprently.