New Life Arises

The sun was nearing it's highest point in the sky, and Goldengale was exhausted. She had woken with the sun as normal, but this time something was wrong. No, not wrong, different. The pain in her belly would increase to the point of being unbearable, and then ebb slowly back to normal. Just when she thought there was no way anything in the forest could hurt more, the pain got worse. She had called for Aspenheart and Mistystripe, and they had both come quickly. The time was drawing near, of that the young queen was certain, but she had no clue beyond that. Her blue eyes searched for Grousefrost, wondering if he was nearby, sitting with her parents and brother. How much more could she take? This hurt worse than that Dark Forest cursed fox's fangs. Gritting her teeth as more pain washed over her, she stretched out her legs as far as she could in an attempt to relieve it, but nothing helped. Eyes glittering, she sought out Aspenheart's and hissed through her teeth. "This.... hurts, Aspen.... heart." As it began to ebb away, she tried to catch her breath before the next wave came.

Mistystripe was beside her sister, nuzzling a stick her way. "Bite down on this, Goldengale. When the next surge of pain comes, I want you to bite with all the force you can muster. You got that?" She thought for a moment on what she had said. "Just....don't break the stick." She joked. True, it wasn't really the time for fun and games, but she wanted to make her sister feel better. "It will all be over soon. Then you will have a new bundle of joy." She smiled as she looked at Aspenheart. He knew what he was doing, much more than she knew in this situation. For the most part Mistystripe was mere support, but one day she would be able to do so much more.

Cloverpaw's round silver face peered into the nursery, his wide amber eyes looking even more round than usual. The sight and sound of his sister in such distress made him uncomfortable. Truthfully, even her swollen belly near the end had made the apprentice wriggle with an almost, shamefully, disgusted feeling. It was a great and wonderful thing that his sister was growing their family, having a kit, but - stars - Cloverpaw didn't want anything to do with the whole... process. His dark-tipped ears were flat as he stammered to the medicine cats, "H-Hey, is she okay? Do you, um, n-need anyth-thing?" He swallowed hard and looked in at his sister as she sprawled. He felt sick to his stomach.

"'Cause I-I-I could go get some water o-or another stick or something," he offered, suddenly realizing how much he couldn't stomach the idea of being there.

"You aren't required to stay, son; you don't need an excuse," a mildly amused voice rumbled. Barleytuft stood outside the den gazing with dark hazel eyes at his son. "I'm sure Goldengale, Aspenheart, and Mistystripe will be glad to call on you should they need anything, though."

Looking slightly ashamed but overall relieved, Cloverpaw shot Goldengale a look that was a nervous attempt at reassurance before he backed away, turning awkwardly around and scampering towards the other side of camp's clearing to continue staring with uneasy interest at the medicine cat's den.

Meanwhile, Barleytuft turned inward, limping slightly as he took Cloverpaw's spot just outside. He looked in to Goldengale and the medicine cats and offered, "I'm here for company or support or someone to dig your claws into, or for you all to tell me to stay out of your fur." The senior warrior's glimmering eyes landed on his daughter, squirming and panting in her nest in the nursery. He felt a pang of worry. Certainly it was only one kit, but it was his first grandkit - his daughter's first child. He could think of little else. He would likely pace uselessly beside Cloverpaw if Goldengale wanted her privacy, or if the medicine cats needed space.

Aspenheart was not good with she-cats in labor, that much could be seen. Maybe that's why he merely leaned over Mistystripe's shoulder, happy to bark commands into her ear without actually watching the whole thing go down. She was doing well for a beginner, of course. 

Pushing a small leaf towards his apprentice, he began his next set of instructions. "Sticks are nice, but she'll be thankful for chervil when this is all over. Have her chew it. Now, why don't we give queens poppy seeds until after they've given birth?" Aspenheart licked the scruff of Goldengale's neck comfortingly. "Nothing's gone wrong yet, which means your chances of things going wrong are significantly lower now," he teased. "Mistystripe, get the chervil moving. Brother, I'm sure she'd appreciate if you soaked some moss in the stream. She's not moving anytime soon."

It was time.

The golden landscape of the plains rushed past his vision as he bolted towards the sun. It’s gleaming rays catching his silver tabby and pale pelt as he leapt over the small rabbit holes he’d normally have been careful around. His wounds ached, he felt a couple split open. The wiry tom behind him could see the blood, but didn’t dare to stop the tom who was racing towards WindClan as though it was facing mortal peril.

His paws skidded as he scrambled down the side of the massive indentation in the grass. The small cliffs that were sturdy felt like crumbling sand beneath his paws as he leapt halfway down. The ground couldn’t touch him yet. Not until he skidded to a stop directly outside the medicine den sand flinging from his paws as his heavy panting joined the sounds of his mate giving the clan new life.

It is time.

Grousefrost padded into the den slowly, his head dipped in acknowledgement to the cats who were already there. Particularly deep wounds on his shoulder and mid back coloured the pale part of his pelt an odd red, but he hardly cared as he padded to Goldengale.
“I came as soon as I heard.” He rumbled softly, watching her chew the strange thing the medicine cats were giving her. “The rabbit thanks you.” He offered the small paltry joke as a small token for his near miss of this moment. He had missed Vinepaw’s birth… he couldn’t miss this one.

Gripping the stick Mistystripe offered, Goldengale's eyes found her sister's with a nod. Mumbling around the stick, she managed Ey-mm guhnna mreahk uh thtick." Her tail tip flicked slightly, a sign of her teasing, but she appreciated her sister's words. She was right, soon everything would be okay... It had to be. Vaguely she heard what sounded like her brother and father, but another wave of pain gripped her and she bit down on the stick as hard as she could. The stick splintered under her jaws, the wood hard on her tongue, but she kept her jaws locked on it until the pain started to ebb.

She set the stick down, spitting on the bits of bark as Aspenheart spoke about a herb, and some water-soaked moss. A small mrrp came from her chest, ears perking up slightly at the mention of some water, she hadn't realized it but she was desperately thirsty.  Her gaze turned to Barleytuft, searching her father's and finding love and worry in them. Offering a tiny smile, she huffed out, "Hi Dad.... I'm okay, see? Things are... Fine..." Her mew got slightly higher with the last word as her head turned to grasp the stick again, feeling the start of the next pain coming on.

As this one faded, Grousefrost came sliding up to the den before entering slowly with a soft rumble. A purr rose in her chest as he came to her side, and she raised her head slightly to try to meet his. "He can thank me personally when this is over and I'm chasing him across the moor." She uttered between deep breaths, expression twisting as she tried to hold the next wave off. Her efforts were fruitless though, and despite her wanting more time to welcome those around her it wasn't granted.

As time had passed, the pain had lasted longer each time, growing worse. Now though, the den was quiet, matching the quiet of the camp surrounding it. Goldengale was curled around a single kit, a dark tabby tom. Purring in contentment, the pain not nearly what it had been, she looked down at the tom. He was so tiny, so unbelievably small, had she ever been that small? Even with him being so small, he was one of the larger kits she had ever seen, having had plenty of room to grow. Looking up to Grousefrost, she smiled at him and uncurled slightly. "Look, Grousefrost, we have a son! What should we name him?" She whispered, nuzzling his cheek gently.

The dark tom-kit mewled, trying to bury himself in his mother’s pelt as his wet fur, slightly longer than either of his parents’, began to dry and fluff up. His ears pricked at Goldengale’s voice, and his head swung around, as if trying to find other sounds. He was a healthy kit, certainly, breathing steadily and paws kneading the ground. His eyes, still both blue with youth, cracked open for a fraction of a second, before shutting tightly in relation to the light of the new world.

The white-patched kit eventually found his mother’s belly, where he firmly latched himself and began to suckle.

When Aspenheart spoke, Barleytuft had nodded and loped off immediately - despite his limping - to fetch moss and soak it in a stream. Cloverpaw had refused to come, simply staying in the clearing of camp staring towards the nursery with a thrilled and horrified expression. As Barleytuft left Grousefrost came sprinting in, and the senior warrior chuckled through his mouthful of moss. After a short time her returned and delivered his gifts, and then he gave his daughter, her mate, and the medicine cats their privacy. The pale tabby tom, now feeling exhausted despite his excitement, moved to lay beside his son in the clearing.

Some time later, the tiny squeak of a newborn kitten's mew hit Barleytuft's ears. Within a heartbeat the senior warrior was on his paws and moving swiftly towards the nursery, his tail high and eyes seeing nothing but what was before him. Cloverpaw stayed behind, calling, "Uhh, let me know when it's safe to look!"

Barleytuft scoffed, and then he moved his wide head into the opening of the nursery and immediately he spotted his daughter curled lovingly, wearily, around a little suckling kit. He waited patiently, looking to Grousefrost and then the medicine cats - his own daughter being one of them; Barleytuft seemed to have entered at the tail-end of a question and he hoped it wasn't private.

He felt useless as his mate tensed in pain. The stick creaked in her jaws as he leaned down to give her a few affectionate licks on her shoulder. His purrs soft in the nursery as he waited for their first kit to be born. His blue eyes never away from Goldengale’s blue until she spat out the remnants of the stick, and a new scent flooded the nursery.

Carefully, he stepped aside to let Aspenheart work and bring the kit into the world. Then, it was over. What Goldengale had tenderly carried in her belly for moons was suddenly there, alive and mewling. He blinked down at the tiny black tabby, then smiled as he lowered himself to lick the bundle of fur. Carefully drying off some of it’s little pelt as he moved aside to curl up so their bodies surrounded the tiny kit.

Foxes would have to get through him before it touched a hair on his families pelt. The question weighed in his mind thoughtfully. The black coat reminded him of a raven, but he quickly threw that option away. Raven was associated with Raventail, the traitor that left them. His eyes narrowed briefly as he reflected on choices, before he looked up at Goldengale with a smile.

“What about Crowkit… for his dark pelt?” He suggested, then spotted little white patches, but it was fine. Crows were clever, and no doubt his little tom would be too. He glanced towards Barleytuft, and Cloverpaw in the distance with a huff. “How can you effectively greet your cousin while outside?” He scolded gently, with a small hint of amusement as his tail wrapped around Goldengale’s to keep her close.

Mistystripe smiled, but then glared at Grousefrost. "I believe the mother has the naming rights. After all, she did the hard work. You, on the other hand, stood back and merely watched." She licked Goldengale's ear comfortingly. "He is very healthy, all he needs is a name, Goldengale. Take your pick!" 

She looked outside to her brother Cloverpaw. "Get in here ya big lump! He's here!" Then she bent down and began to lick the kit's fur with her sister. She made a promise to herself to care for this kitten as much as Goldengale would. This was her nephew after all. Wow, she actually had a nephew now....

Aspenheart watched the little kit suckle with less discomfort now. Mistystripe's defensiveness surprised him, as it wasn't in her nature. He figured that a new nephew was both a stressful and joyful thing. She couldn't help but be protective of her sister. 

He leaned over and gave Mistystripe a questioning look. "Hey, it's alright," he said gently. "Grousefrost is just as much a parent as Goldengale, you know. Besides... I like Crowkit." A softness came over him, penetrating the strict facade of his medicinal practice. Watching the little kit wiggle around, he already looked like both of his parents. "Eh, I probably would've named him Ballkit or something. That's all he looks like to me. A big, fuzzy ball."

Rustling at the opening to the nursery turned Goldengale's eyes from her mates face, and she smiled as she saw her father's figure standing patiently. Her tail tip flickered up slightly as she purred. "Hey dad, come on over and meet your grandson. We were just asking about a name!" Her mate's presence throughout the ordeal had been comforting, and every time Goldengale looked to him for support she found it. She smiled as he gazed at their son before curling up beside them both, a rough purr rumbling in her chest. Grousefrost offered the name Crowkit, but Mistystripe quickly scolded him. Concern and confusion filled her expression, it was unlike Mistystripe to be so harsh, but the new sensation of the kit at her belly drew her attention back to him quickly. She'd have to talk to Mistystripe later, and try to find out what was eating at her pelt to have her so on edge. "Crowkit..." The new queen tried the name out, rolling it around her tongue as she gazed down at the dark-furred tom. "Yes, I like Crowkit! Welcome to the moors of WindClan, little Crowkit. My son."

She nuzzled the top of the tiny tom's head before raising it to look at Aspenheart. "Well, Aspenheart, you look nothing like an aspen tree now do you?" She teased, smiling up at him. "Every cat in WindClan would be named Ball-something if you had it your way!" She smiled as she waited to see if Cloverpaw would make his way inside, encouraged by the
many voices telling him all was well. She looked up at Barleytuft as he stood for a moment before looking past him, confusion and maybe a hint of sadness in them gathering in her face. Barleytuft was here, and she had heard Cloverpaw's mew right before her father walked in.... Mistystripe and Grousefrost were both here, along with Aspenheart, but where was..... "Dad? Where's.... Where's mom? I haven't seen her yet... Is she okay?..." Worry for their mother flared in her chest. Wait, if she wasn't okay, Barleytuft and the medicine cats wouldn't just be standing around... So where was she then?

Goldengale spotted him and welcomed him in immediately; it seemed that he had come in at the time of naming. Barleytuft smiled and worked his way in to find a spot. The look on Goldengale's face was familiar - he'd seen Graybriar give birth to four healthy kits, after all: the queen was exhausted and overwhelmed and content and comfortable and full of love beyond understanding. Even Grousefrost, usually so stoic and dutiful, had a look of appeasement and genuine affection spread over his features as he observed both his mate and his kit. The clarity was satisfying. He does love her, Barleytuft confirmed. He listened as Grousefrost offered the name Crowkit.

Mistystripe's interjection shocked Barleytuft, and he sat up and gave his eldest daughter a hard and quizzical look. Had Grousefrost done something during the delivery? Aspenheart spoke to her first, keeping it a little more subtle, and Goldengale, though she had also noticed the odd exchange, seemed satisfied with Crowkit, giving the small tom a lick and introducing him to the world. "Welcome, Crowkit," Barleytuft echoed with a hearty purr.

Outside, Cloverpaw watched his father disappear into the den, and a short time later the apprentice heard his family calling his name. The silver tom's kinked tail shot up as he jumped to his paws, and he immediately raced to the nursery. He hesitated just slightly as he peered in, but everything was clean and warm and cozy. Goldengale's golden tabby frame was curled around a teeny, tiny, half-fuzzy little black kit. He heard the name, and he looked at the kitten and mewed in adoration, "Awww, Crowkit!" He looked at Grousefrost and giggled, "He must get the bird thing from his dad, huh?"

Goldengale's voice called Barleytuft's attention from the little kit, and he perked up his ears to gaze at her. "Yes, sweetheart?" he meowed, and she asked a question that suddenly made his stomach knot and filled him with confusion. "Where's mom? I haven't seen her yet." "You know, I-I'm not sure. I saw her earlier this morning." That's not like her, he thought, feeling disappointed and concerned. He gave his daughter a reassuring smile and said as evenly as he could, "I'm sure she has a reason to be away. Do you want me to find her so she can come meet Crowkit?"

Graybriar didn't hear the news until after the fact. She had been sitting alone in the territory, trying to center herself, staring out at where the moor met the sky until her eyes watered from lack of blinking. Lately she'd just been so... empty. Not even full of nothingness- just lack of feeling. She loved her family. They loved her. Those were facts of life. For some reason, they didn't help. She'd just woken up, feeling the void inside her gape wider and wider until she had to excuse herself from camp. Couldn't even bring herself to talk to Barleytuft. But in her quiet contemplation and hollow stare, she'd forgotten. Forgotten until it struck her like a flash of sunlight in the pitch black night. Goldengale-

"Oh my stars."

And once she'd remembered, some semblance of feeling had returned, she'd spun around from her solitary spot and sped back to camp. She'd never forgive herself, missing her daughter's kits, her first grandkit, and what if the kitting didn't go well? What if she missed everything and returned to losing another kit? The thought was unbearable and she pushed it away, filling her mind instead with the wind that she created as she sprinted towards the small, sheltered valley. What had she done?

By the time she arrived, panting, out of breath, wild-eyed, she'd missed it. An apprentice cheerfully told her the news as she stopped, shocked, then stumbled into the nursery. Sure enough, there Goldengale lay in a nest, looking somewhat less bloated than before, surrounded by her family. Most of her family. Grousefrost and Barleytuft and Cloverpaw and Mistystripe were all there... and the new addition. A tiny spot of dark tabby fur nestled against her daughter's golden side. Purring and smiling, all of them, laughing together. She'd missed it. As the emptiness threatened to grow inside her, however, almost on the point of breaking open the mask she'd worn all morning, she heard the meow of a tiny voice. Barely even a mewl. High pitched, pleading, helpless. A minuscule drop of warmth- not much- just the amount of a scarce winter sunbeam- trickled down her back, and a small smile cracked through the stunned look on her face. Memories of her own kits deluged her for a few moments, and she inhaled the scent of all her favorite cats in one place together... with a tiny shiver, she let herself feel.

Suddenly, Graybriar was aware that everyone was looking at her. She blinked slowly, then shrugged helplessly and her small grin grew, chagrined. "I missed it, didn't I?... I'm so sorry, Goldengale. But he's beautiful."

Her heart was full to the brim, bursting with love and happiness as her father moved forward to welcome her tiny kit, and her brother appeared close behind. A tired smile was aimed at her brother and her sister, and then her father answered her question. She wasn't sure what to make of it, she had been seen this morning... The stutter in his words did not go unnoticed, and a veiled expression came over her eyes as she stared pointedly down at her kit instead of meeting her father's eyes, hoping that the disappointed tears starting to well in her eyes would simply blend in with what was already there. "No, no it's alright... She must have gotten chosen for a patrol or something, it's no... No big deal, she'll come once she's done I'm sure..." She would, wouldn't she? Surely.

Just then, rushing pawsteps sounded and Goldengale instinctively curled closer around her son, teary blue eyes looking towards the sound. A gray tabby she cat stood, panting and wide-eyed at the nursery, staring at them all, and specifically the little ball of fur positioned carefully at her belly. "Mom!" Goldengale exclaimed, her voice cracking slightly as she unwound a little bit. The she-cat's face broke into a small grin, barely there, but still present. "Thank you, mom. His name is Crowkit, would you like a closer look?"