Small Blessings (OPEN Kit Topic)

After a few moons of pain and nausea, and an excruciating number of minutes, the fruit of Redwing's labors lay at her side. Only two kits, one fluffy and tortoiseshell, one poofy ginger, had survived the birth. Two other kits had been born dead, and one had only taken a few weak breaths before going to StarClan. It seemed that the strenuous conditions of the fire's aftermath had been too much for them. One red kit like her, one black and white like her mother, one red and white like their father... Why did they have to die? With tears in her eyes, feeling that no kit should go nameless, the mother had named them Sparkkit, Violetkit and Poppykit. Each for important cats in her life that had died, or simply vanished. She still refused to believe Poppyheart was dead.

But the two kits who had survived, Redwing loved all the more fiercely with all her heart. They were strong little kits, destined to live, determined to stay on the earth they'd been brought into. With every breath the kits took, their mother adored them more, holding them close with her fluffy red tail and not ever wanting to look away. All the pain, all the anguish... this feeling was worth it. Her son and daughter were worth it. And if two of her kits could survive all the smoke, then why couldn't Poppyheart have survived that fight and just be recovering, somewhere, waiting to return?

But what should she name the tiny kits? Possibilities ran rampant through her head, and she debated for a few moments. Seemingly out of nowhere, two popped into her head that seemed perfect. Perfect names for perfect kits... "Cedarkit, and Sorrelkit" Redwing whispered, adoring her kits' names, feeling joy despite the physical and emotional pain.

Cedrakit, blind and deaf, wriggled towards the warmth of her mother's belly. Happily, she had her first taste of milk - it was amazing. When she had finished her meal she opened her mouth and let out a loud wail, relishing the beautiful sound she made.

It sounded like Redwing's kits were finally here. Poppyheart was now officially a father, wherever he was now. Asterspark smiled gently as he approached the entrance of the nursery, mewing softly to let his brother's mate know he was coming in. He then did just that, making sure to firmly ignore Blazeflight as he approached Redwing to meet his nieces or nephews for the first time.

When he saw only two kits nestled next to Redwing's belly, however, he blinked in surprise. He remembered the queen having telling him she was going to be delivering five kits when Morningpaw had done a check-up on her a few days before they had been due. The others must've died from Redwing's smoke inhalation when the Carrionplace exploded... he concluded sadly. It really was a shame, Redwing had been through so much in the past couple months, and now she was burdened with knowing more than half of her litter died either before they were born or just minutes after. Hopefully they were at least given names for their departure to StarClan.

Then Asterspark honed in his attention on the two living kits. And he smiled. These kits were the strongest of the litter. There was no doubt in his mind that these kits would grow up to be just as strong as his brother, and with Redwing to care for them, they would grow to be just as kind and loving as well. Perhaps even he could teach his kin the importance of loyalty and justice.

The tom lowered his head to rasp his tongue gently along each kit's ears, feeling a purr of genuine happiness rumbling in his throat for the first since he could remember. Then he looked up at Redwing. "Your kits are beautiful, Redwing. What did you name them?"

The small kit that was one of the newest product of life’s generous paw was awfully sensitive, considering how much she was squirming. It was no different from the place that he had come from; darkness, but he could feel a welcoming and glowing warmth, somewhere right in front of him. His desperation to cling to this warmth drove him to opening his tiny maw and letting out the smallest, quietest of wails. The newly-named Sorrelkit shuffled toward the source, feeling the heat begin to hold him. He felt safe and comforted, again. He latched on, instantly, and began to fill his body with the milk that he needed to live. The lovely heat that smothered his little self continued to swirl around his pelt. No more noises came out of his jaws. The ginger kit was at the peak of satisfaction, now.

They were perfect.... She didn't deserve them. Every little paw, every tiny breath, every fluttering heartbeat. They were hers. Her own kits.... Redwing was staring down at them in a state of delirious happiness, pain growing more distant as exhaustion and euphoria took over, until Asterspark walked in the room. Her dear friend... But for a tiny moment, she resented that the blue-furred tom wasn't his brother, Poppyheart. Then reality returned, and she smiled weakly, glad to see a supportive face. "Hey," she purred quietly. "This is my daughter Cedarkit, and my son Sorrelkit... Your niece and nephew. Aren't they beautiful?"

When his good eye lay on her three deceased kits, a pang of grief tore at her heart again. How could she ever face that her actions had taken away innocent lives? Better to not think about it now... Her deep green eyes looked down at their three cold, still bodies, before glancing back up at her friend. "These three..." her voice was hoarse. "I named them, too. Violetkit for my mother. Sparkkit for our friend." Her paw touched each one reverently, and raw grief was clear in every shaky breath she took. "And... Poppykit, for their father."

As she nudged the tiny dead tom, identical to her mate in every feature, she finally broke down. A tear slipped from one eye, and started a flood. What if he didn't come back? The horror of that possibility finally caught up with her, and in her vulnerable state it was too much. He couldn't leave her. He couldn't. They'd just truly found each other... Then, he'd been attacked, and she'd decided he couldn't be dead, because it wasn't allowed. But what if he was? Even with how much she loved her two living kits, the pain and sadness of it was unbearable, and suddenly, horribly, real. Ugly sobs tore from her throat. When she finally caught her breath, her voice was a broken whisper... "I need him, Asterspark."

Asterspark fixed his one-eyed gaze down at the beautiful pair of kits nestled by Redwing's belly. His niece and nephew. His kin. He smiled and purred, watching as they suckled their mother's milk, filling themselves up to the brim with her warmth and love. Cedarkit and Sorrelkit. These two weren't even his own, and yet he already fell in love with them. He swore to himself and to these two kits that he would always be there to protect them no matter what.

Then Redwing began listing off the names of her three kits who either didn't live past the delivery, or died a few moments later after taking their first breath of air. His eye fell on the deceased Sparkkit, and immediately he was filled with strong emotion himself. What would have happened between him and Sparkfeather had she survived the battle? What would their kits have looked like? Would they be a beautiful shade of sandy-yellow with unique gray and black stripes and gorgeous blue eyes like her? He would've loved to have named that one Featherkit, after their mother. Or maybe... if they had a kit who looked just like him... He'd have named them Orchidkit. Sparkfeather did seem to have been really fond of his former kit and apprentice name.

Of course... that was never going to happen now. And it filled him with such grief and despair. So much so that he began to lose himself. He had struggled to find ways to cope with his loss. But none of them seemed to work. If anything, those methods only seemed to draw himself away more and more from the ones he loved the most. Frog, his first apprentice, whom he neglected during her training, forcing her to learn how to hunt and fight herself. Would she have lived if he had been a better mentor, more willing to obey his warning of staying away from Carrionplace?

And what about Poppyheart, his brother, his only full littermate, all his other brothers and sisters being only half-kin thanks to his father's one-night stand with his mother? If he had just been honest from the very beginning when he learned of their true origins... Would they have still been friends? Would they have been able to support each other through their midlife crises, instead of having to do it all alone? ...Would it not have hurt nearly as much when Poppyheart would have gone missing, not having to worry about whether his brother was dead or alive, knowing that the last memory he would have had with him was filled with bitterness and the cold feeling of betrayal? Would his disappearance have been prevented entirely?

And, sure enough... Poppykit was one of the three kits to have died. Was this a sign? Was this StarClan's way of telling them their brother and mate hadn't survived after all? Or was he all lost and alone out there, on the brink of death, without anyone to help him or lead him home?

At Redwing's sudden confession, he looked up at the pretty queen. Her forest-green eyes used to be filled with so much love and life. But ever since Poppyheart's disappearance, they had grown even duller and less vibrant by the day. It seemed he wasn't the only one who was losing hope that he was still alive, wherever he was. Redwing... She needs her mate. ...And I need my brother. Oh, great StarClan, Poppyheart, I'm so sorry... The den was filled with little dripping sounds as tears rolled down Asterspark's fluffy cheeks, splashing against the nursery floor. They both needed Poppyheart so badly.

"...At least we have each other," Asterspark mewed hoarsely. At least that much was true. Despite his falling-out with his brother and taking some of his frustrations and feelings of betrayal out on her, Redwing was, is, and always will be one of his closest friends. Perhaps... that will be enough to... "Maybe... if the two of us keep holding on to our hopes and dreams that Poppyheart will come back home one day... he will. He's... He's always seen the good of everything, and he's always believed in all of us. ...Perhaps we should believe in him, too. He... He will come back home. I... I just know it." He had to. He just had to. This just had to work.

He nestled down next to Redwing, encompassing Cedarkit and Sorrelkit in his own blanket of warmth and love, and nuzzled his friend's cheek with his own, their collective tears mingling together and dropping to the floor.