Where We Are Now [Open]

While the moon had begun to sink in the sky, the night was far from over. Flamestrike's pawsteps were heavy as they made the trek back to the Shadowclan camp. As they walked, his mind flashed through the past couple of moons, trying to make sense of all that had happened. Somehow, he had fallen in love with a medicine cat. She wasn't the prettiest she-cat ever, nor the least troubled, but to Flamestrike, Honeydrop was better than any other cat he had ever laid eyes on. Through all of their heavy past, they had found peace with each other. Not long after her stomach had begun to swell. The day she told him that he would become a father, Flamestrike's whole world felt like it had been turned upside-down. He had committed one of the greatest crimes in the clans- mating with a medicine cat, and now their relationship would bare the proof of kits. Part of him had been overjoyed to have kits with the love of his life, the other half was darkened with a creeping anxiety. Leopardstar would not go easy on them for this.

However, Littlebrook had offered some how. When the pair explained their predicament, she vowed to help. With Honeydrop's extensive knowledge of herbs, they were able to fake her pregnancy. All the clan knew was that Littlebrook was to have kits. None of them would ever know that the medicine cat was really their mother. When the time came, it had all happened so fast. One moment Flamestrike had been in camp, pushing away the anxiety. The next, him and Littlebrook were rushing out of camp on the golden cat's heels. The birth could not have happened in a lined den in the nursery. No, that was luxury that they could not afford. Instead, it happened on the driest piece of land he could find. His mind had been a mess as he rushed to make a bed for his kitting mate. Everything seemed so wrong in that moment. Having kits should have been a joyful occasion, but he could not feel it at the time. His mate looked so exhausted as the pain had wracked her frame. And then it was over. Then, they had to go back to camp as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Just another queen had bore her kits.

It felt surreal, much like after the moment he'd murdered his brother. Flamestrike's paws were once more cursed to feel like a heavy stone. His green eyes darted up to glance at Littlebrook who was a couple of paces ahead of him. It should have been his mate as his side. Any of the bitter thoughts were quickly replaced by a wave a gratitude. The warrior she-cat had save not only him and Honeydrop, but their kits as well. The kits that were born out of an illegal love. How can it be so wrong to love someone? How could it be possible for a clan to hate kits for the sins of their parents? While it didn't make sense to him, the orange tom knew that this could have been their fate. He stared forwards until his vision blurred. The newborn scrap between his teeth wriggled softly. Another one let out a tiny mew. Despite the fact he could not wrap his head around it, the fact remained- Flamestrike was now a father.

As they entered the camp, Flamestrike numbly padded towards the nursery after his supposed mate. The clan all believed he was with Littlebrook. She was an amazing cat, but he did not have the feelings for her that he did for Shadowclan's medicine cat. But she was his kit's adoptive mother now. Before stepping into the nursery, he cast a nervous glance over his shoulder. Honeydrop was out there all alone. He had hoped to see her beautiful golden pelt flash through the entrance. While the desire to turn and help her back to camp overwhelmed him, he knew this was his place now. As soon as they were in the nursery, all of the kits latched onto Littlebrook and began to suckle away at her herb-induced teats. Apparently being a kit was exhausting work. For a brief moment the warrior stared at them in wonder. Were Bear and I like that as kits? The memory he searched for was far to old to possibly surface. It simply nagged at the edge of his conscious. As the clan began to join them and look over the newborn kits, he stared in silence, trying to process it all. Things would be different now.

By running the second-fastest she had ever run in her life, and going around the back way into camp, Honeydrop had managed to reach the ShadowClan medicine den minutes before her mate and kits did. Her kits... StarClan, she was a mother. She had gone against everything she was to be with the love of her life, Flamestrike. Her time with him had felt so wrong, but confusingly right. She loved him then. She still did. When the medicine cat had discovered she was pregnant, her whole world had shattered. She had known that the life she had worked so hard to gain would be destroyed the moment Leopardstar found out. But then Littlebrook, StarClan bless her, had offered to help. Due to her herb knowledge, Honeydrop had managed to convince the whole Clan that Littlebrook was pregnant with Flamestrike's kits. Taking parsely with her meals and living daily with the pain of pregnancy with no one to help her but herself had been excruciating, but better than the alternative. Not even Roaringpaw had known.

Last night, she had known that it was time. The three cats had rushed out into the forest, finding a secluded and uncomfortable place, and the ShadowClan medicine cat had given birth. Despite Flamestrike trying to help, the pain had been worse than anything she had ever known. But it had been quick. In a few hours, the work of her labor lay snugly at her paws. All three toms. Gingerkit, Firekit and Sparkkit- three strong, beautiful orange kittens. Thank StarClan they looked nothing like her- that would have been difficult to explain away. It had been almost as painful as the birth, not being allowed to feed her kits and hold them close to her. It was hard to keep herself from crying as they were wrenched away to join Littlebrook in the nursery. And despite her exhaustion and numbing grief, Honeydrop had made it back to the medicine den. Licking up a few more parsley leaves to staunch the flow of milk so eager to feed her newborn kits, the golden dappled she-cat smiled at Flamestrike as he came into camp bearing three kits. My kits. She shook off the thought- they were Littlebrook's, now. But somewhere in her heart, they would always be hers.

---

A small ginger tabby tom hung from his father's jaws, mewling in protest at being dragged away from his mother's warm side. The night air was cold, chilling his small body to the bone. His fur was still wet where his mother's tongue had licked it, making him look like an orange and white thorn bush. Dangling by the scruff of his neck he couldn't do much, but his paws flailed weakly in the air to show his tiny fury at being stolen away from the she-cat who had birthed him. Ignoring the strange scents that met his nose, emerald green eyes still sealed tightly shut, the scrap of ginger tabby fur was dropped unceremoniously, but not unkindly, next to another warm body. This was not his mother. But as the small kit tried to crawl away, out of the comfortable mossy nest so unlike the one he had been born in, the strange cat's paw pushed him back in. Mewling in frustration and longing for his mother, the tom tried to leave again, but was dragged back the same as before. About to try and get away a third time, the kit stopped as he smelled milk. Still confused, but more content now, he settled his tiny form next to his brothers and began to suckle, all half-formed memories of his real mother slowly melting away.

The flame colored kit cried trembling when someone took him far away from the belly of her mother. The smell of herbs and the warm sensation wasn't there anymore and the kitten meowed sadly to return. The breeze was cold and his whole body was trembling because of the low temperature.
But the cold soon disappeared when he entered with his siblings to a warmer place full of strange scents but the one of her mother. The same cat that took him away from her mother left him in a soft place where another she-cat was laying down. He could felt her even with his green eyes closed and the dappled kit was sure that she was not her mother.
However, she was warm and had the scent of the milk that his tiny stomach desire. The kit crawled meowing to her belly, still unsure because she was still wanted to be with the she-cat that was truly her mother. But she wasn't there and the kitten was hungry, so he just approached her and started drinking with his brother and sister by his side.

Not so long ago, it seemed, she was telling Flamestrike and Honeydrop that she would care for their kits as if they were her own, and keep their secret. She felt sympathetic with her friend, but maybe even more so for the golden medicine cat. She'd been through so much, and now she couldn't even care for her kits. They probably wouldn't even know she was their mother. It broke her heart to think about it, but what broke her heart more was the thought of what Leopardstar would do if he found out. She had to take these kits in. There was no question about it. Flamestrike was a dear friend and she would always be there for him. She cared for the young fiery tom like a little brother, and couldn't even dream of not helping him in this dire situation.

Now it was time. Honeydrop had her kits in what seemed to be the driest and secluded, though uncomfortable, place in their territory for Honeydrop to have her kits. Flamestrike had been great in trying to help her through the kitting, but she knew all too well what pain she was enduring that very moment, though she knew there was also another pain she frail medicine was enduring, and would probably endure the rest of her life. It pained her to think about it, so she focused her attention on the kits that were born. 3 fiery orange kits. Two toms and one she-cat. Thank StarClan they looked more like Flamestrike than their mother, or that would be a little harder to explain. Touching her nose to Honeydrop's cheek, eyes shining sympathetically, she helped Flamestrike bring his kits home.

Once she was curled up in the soft nest with the kits snuggled up at her belly, after guiding them back a few times, she glanced up at their father, blue gaze glimmering compassionately. "Would you like to name them now? Or wait for Honeydrop to help?" She meowed gently, attempting to steer his mind away from the unimaginable pain he must be going through. While she waited for the tom to respond, her mind drifted off to Mudfoot, and her heart quickened. She didn't know what he would think, and she wasn't quite ready to admit to herself why she even cared. She did not regret her decision to help her friend, and would gladly do it all over again, but she couldn't help but worry about Mudfoot's reaction or thoughts. It doesn't matter. Since when do you care what others think? She thought, shaking her head slightly to clear the worrying thoughts.

A small, light ginger tom squirmed in the grasp of a she-cat, being ripped away from the warm, cozy belly of his mother. He grasped onto thin air in a vain attempt to pull him back towards his mother, and tiny distressed mews echoed from his mouth. He settled down a bit when a familiar scent filled his nostrils, and he slowly drifted off to sleep.

"Gingerkit. Firekit. Sparkkit." He meowed flatly. Honeydrop and him had briefly discussed names before the hurried rush back to camp. His eyes scanned the tiny bundles as they suckled away. Being so young, they had no worries other than food and warmth. Their innocent offered them ignorance to the situation. Flamestrike's ear twitched uncomfortably. Honeydrop and his children suckled at another cat. Their relationship could never be known, save for Littlebrook. As much as he wanted to thank her in the moment, the numb feeling that clouded his chest prevented any words from coming out. Instead, he attempted a weak smile at the she-cat. He hoped that she understood how unbelievably grateful the pair was. Without her, there would have been no guarantee for any of their futures.

One that shared his flame colored pelt wriggled into his adoptive mother's stomach. Flamestrike hesitantly leaned forwards to sniff at it. The tiny pelt was warm and pulsing with new life. It was strange to think that his was the product of his love. He had never seen himself as a father, but now three newborn kits squirmed at his forepaws. They were his. At the thought, he blinked slowly. It felt like a heavy burden had just been laid upon his shoulders. A rush of love shocked him as he looked at the tiny scraps. It burned fiercely through his chest. Leaning forwards he nudged Firekit with the tip of his nose. Even if their start was less than ideal, the warrior vowed to care for them and do the best to raise each one. It was both a thrilling and terrifying prospect.