A ray of hope [Birth Topic]

The flood waters had receded and left Sunningrocks the only oasis in the area where RiverClan could make their home. The rocks were uncomfortable, the moss barely cushioned her swollen belly but Larchleap endured the discomfort as there was no alternative. Her kits with Patchface were ready to be born, and this was the safest place, unfortunately. There was softer ground further back but that was too close to ThunderClan territory, StarClan only knew what they'd do to a vulnerable queen from RiverClan. She had to make do.

It was dusk when the cramps began. A spasm of pain, a lance of fire through her.

This was her first litter, but it was progressing quickly.

She felt dampness around her tail, which was to be expected but blood tinged it. She didn't need Cloudstone to tell her what was happening, considering how stressful the past few days had been, she had half expected this. It was time to rejoin her mate in StarClan, but not before bringing these little ones into the world. When the silver pelted deputy, Ivyfall came over, she met her gaze with a wistful yet pained look, shaking her head when the deputy nearly ran off to fetch Cloudstone. "Don't."

Nodding her head, Ivyfall came over to curl around the she-cat to offer her comfort as she endured through the kitting.

The first to be born was a black and white kit, Ivyfall quickly picked her up and placed her on the she-cat's belly. "A she-kit." The deputy announced, Larchleap looked down fondly, licking the kit once before another spasm took her attention away. The next born was tom-kit, golden brown. "A to-" He was followed quickly by a ginger she-kit. "Two kits. A she and a tom." The next kit was another she-kit, light cream in colouring and seemingly gentle as she barely squirmed. Ivyfall licked her vigorously in concern that she wasn't active enough before placing her with her mother.

Before Ivyfall could say anything, another kit was born. A silver tabby, taking after his grandfather.

"That was a tom.... Are there more?" Finally, the deputy asked, her question was answered when Larchleap groaned again, curling around her kits before giving birth to two kits in quick succession. One was a handsome brown tabby while the other was a stunning brown patch kit. Spitting images of their parents. "Two toms, Larchleap, you did so well!" Ivyfall praised her but there was no reply, instead the queen murmured softly to the kits with the last of her strength.

"I-Icekit." To the black and white kit.

"Sunkit." To the golden kit.

"Lilackit." To the ginger kit.

"Petalkit." To the cream kit.

"Sleetkit." To the silver kit.

"...Ripplekit, and... Flint... Flint... kit." She said to her tomkits before slowly resting her head against the ground. The she-cat closed her eyes for the final time, leaving the deputy with her seven kits.

"Goodbye, old friend." Ivyfall whispered.

The small, faint brown and white tom mewled. Making every attempt to whine for his mother, shakily crawling to nuzzle into her stomach for both comfort and her loving warmth. His strangling mewls grew louder and louder once he grew accustomed to his newly discovered cries.

His frail paws did the best they could and curled into his dearest mother, his nose being filled with all sorts of new scents along with his littermates, and his parents.

His mews shrank to quiet whimpers as his little mouth latched onto his mom, attempting to suckle as his first instinct after being born.

Lilackit squirmed around besides her mother, she soon found her way through pawing at the floor and bouncing off things she didn't know of. She began to suckle as she began to fight for a little more room around her other littermates, she was kind of kicking around, fighting for more room.

Ripplekit laid steadfast, tightly clutching onto whatever ground was beneath him and his little muzzle fastened around his mother's milk. He did his best to ignore his dominating sibling, and standing his ground in regards of getting the source of nutrition the small tom needed.

Once he had gotten his fill of the milk, his tiny maw released his mother's nipple from his clutches and make a comfortable spot leaning against her stomach and drifted off to the pleasantry of sleeping; even if he gets pawed at by his more rougher siblings.

Cloudstone hovered a few rocks over, watching with an unreadable, blank gaze. He swayed on his paws ever so slightly, suddenly overtaken with the sight of blood and kits and someone moving far too little. It was all over before he had even registered what was going on. He had been absolutely useless. His first opportunity to gain some experience had passed, and would it have mattered if he was there anyway? No. It wouldn't have. Because he'd only learned from the words of his mentors, not the harsh, demanding, on-site occurrences that he had been lucky enough to avoid when he was only an apprentice. It was becoming easier for the black tom to see that physical injuries were the easiest to cure. Mental ones, however, easily grew infected, and symptoms were hard to catch. There was nothing he could do. So he sat in a crevice between two rocks and wondered if he was ever going to be fit for this job.


What was happening? Fogheart's head raised up from her rock at the edge, alarmed at the scent of blood. She rose from her spot and wobbled over, still quite a bit unsteady from the amount of water in her airways, and confused as to why she could smell blood through her mostly blocked nose. The blind warrior shuffled across Sunningrocks until she found the source, bumping into her sister almost immediately. She opened her mouth to say a quick "sorry", and made to turn away, but another scent made her stop in her tracks. Larchleap and blood, those too smells were combined with perfect fluidity, as well as the faint trace of new death. It couldn't be. She opened her mouth again to test.

It was true. Grief grasped at her heart, but not directly. Her sister was the one she felt the most sadness for. So many of her children were gone. 'You don't deserve this.' Nervously, she sat by the deputy, curling her paws under her chest, and staying as far away from the kittens as possible. She refused to give Starclan a reason to curse these children as they had her own by touching them. She'd be there for her very last sibling, whether she needed her or not.

Petalkit let out a pitiful meow and found her way to her mother's belly which was oddly cold. Letting out another mew, she climbed on Sunkit, confused as what what happening. Suckling, the little cream colored cat calmed down, enjoying the warm of her siblings. From the looks of it, this would be a good life, and even though she wasn't able to see or really think about anything, something told her that she'd be very close to her littermates.

Icekit felt joyful since the moment she was born. Somehow Petalkit's meow had annoyed her she started kicking her other littermates for more room. Life in the nursery was going to be hard.

Flintkit's mewl as soon was high-pitched and short as he squirmed to suckle beside all seven of his littermates. All he could feel was fur on either side of him and warm milk going into his body as he latched on to put the warm milk into his body.

Greedy. Sleetkit pawed away at his littermates, mewling, kicking back, climbing and fighting past them as he nuzzled closer to the queen's belly, even as her warmth began to fade. I don't know how to do birth topics, it's been way too long since I roleplayed cats. ;;

Ivyfall looked more like stone than the lush plant that she was named after. Looking down at the cold body of Larchleap, all the she-cat could do was mourn quietly so that the little ones weren't disturbed. This was just how clan life worked, cats died of all sorts of reasons. She'd been lucky enough not to die during a kitting, Larchleap just hadn't been fortunate enough. If she hadn't literally met StarClan in the flesh, she would have cursed them, called them out to be false for taking a mother from such little ones that desperately needed her.

Unable to watch the sight of the kits curling up to a dead body, Ivyfall looked away to see her sister, Fogheart and poor Cloudstone in the distance. Her eyes met with the medicine cat's reflecting the bone deep pain they both shared over a life lost. This was just how things were, but by StarClan, it hurt.

In a moment of weakness, she stalked over to the only kin she had left and gently placed her muzzle against her shoulder to not startle her. She needed a moment buried in another's scent, washing away the stench of sweet decay that slowly oozed from the queen's body. She took salvation in the warmth of her kin, her backs to the kits for this moment. She'd be there for them again, she'd rear them to the best of her ability, but for now, she needed this break to grief.