Six Little Comets, Now Five

This was a strange place. Firflower lay tucked in a dark corner of the cave, bright blue eyes glittering from the darkness. The muffled mews of her new kits could not reach her, and though she should be overjoyed with all those that lay beside her, a dark cloud emanated from a scrap of pure white. The queen gingerly placed her nose on the cold, weak form of one white she-kit, knowing that any attempt to revive her would be in vain. Every time her gaze rested on her unmoving pelt, the SkyClan she-cat felt herself dragged back to that terrible night of Leaf-fall, when her claws had broken the dreams of a young queen just like her. Along with her neck. She shook her head and turned away, the blood and mud disappearing from her paws, now curled around her five living kittens. She could faintly remember that these young additions to her family had tribal blood running through their veins. They were surrounded by far more family than they realized. All but one of them had ginger and white fur, with one little tom being the spitting image of their father, Elmcloud. Her heart ached to see him again, but many of their Clanmates had disappeared with the disaster that washed them from their homes. She could only hope he was alive somewhere, though past experience told her it may be a lost cause to try. Still, she had to be here for them, nameless as they were now. The wounds she'd received from the battle with the dogs still stung, but she wasn't the worst off. She could deal with it.

Though she felt far more alone in her hidden corner than someone surrounded by five kits, five clans, and a tribe had any right to be.

Sandkit would never know the pain or hardship that Newleaf had wrought. He would not mourn the cats who drowned or died in battle. He would hear stories for the rest of his days of the flood that split the forest, but he would never fear the cold water. Right now, all he felt was the warmth of his mother's belly. He curled up and mewed softly, as all kittens did. His siblings and him swatted paws a few times, as all kittens did. There was no suffering. Just for one quiet moment, he was safe. All he knew was love.

Swallowkit wriggled alongside his siblings and let out a loud yowl for no apparent reason, just trying to get someone's attention. He, too, would not know the grief and pain of the flood; for now, he would spend his time swatting at his siblings and fighting for the best spot to suckle. The not quit-so-large, yet not quite-so-small tom squirmed fiercely, mewling and shoving past his littermates. The light tabby tom settled on a comfy spot closer to Firflower's legs. He suckled to his little heart's content; once satisfied, he let out a huge yawn and passed out instantly.

As he squirmed beside his siblings, the yet-unnamed tomkit didn’t think of his mother's troubles, how far from home SkyClan was, his sister who would never breathe. In fact, he didn’t think of much at all. All he knew was that he had been warm and now he was cold and, more than anything, he wanted quite badly to be warm again. Before he could do anything about this, the warmth curled around him; he settled into it, his discontent eased as quickly as it had come, only giving the smallest mew of complaint when a paw jammed into his side.

Maplekit had gotten her perfect spot and was suckling happily. She mewled annoyedly when Swallowkit nudged his way to his own spot. Well. At least hers was safe. And these kits would be. She and her siblings would grow up in a perfectly normal world, with the plentiful prey of Greenleaf. Of course, the forest wasn't at its best yet. But Maplekit would only hear about the disasters that had just ripped though the clans. And she would likely never know nor be able to mourn her fallen sibling. She did, however, scent sadness in her mother. Why? It was warm, and Maplekit was happy, and all of them were loved. But she would not question it. What would be the point? In her case, ignorance was bliss. And boy, she wanted it to stay that way.