New life arrives, followed by heartbreak (Open)

Grayleaf lied in the nursery, wrenching in pain. She screamed, the agony too much to bear. "Make it stop!" She cried out repeatedly. It was her first litter of kits, and boy were there a lot of them. "Mossbloom! Please help me! Mistwalker! Somebody!" Her eyes moved wildly around the den, looking for somecat that would help her, mainly the ones she had named. She wanted it all to end.

Another surge of pain rippled through her body, and it was a miracle that tears weren't streaming down her face. Why did new life have to be so painful? Could StarClan not show any mercy for the queens? But of course, what was to come would make it all worth it. If she made it that far, that was.

Mistwalker immediately looked up from his grooming as he heard Grayleaf's cry of pain. He swore to the maybe-existent Starclan, if anyone tried to hurt his mate he would rip their throats out! Instead of an intruder, he found a relatively normal scene - Except for the fact that Grayleaf was in pain. He grabbed the stick they'd kept by the nest in preperation, and gave it to Grayleaf. "Are the kits... " He licked her cheek. . "Come on, Mossblossom will be here in just a moment. She will assist you, and I will be by your side the entire time."

She had been preparing for this moment, it had become oh so clear that Grayleaf was expecting any moment. The wail of pain sent her to the back of the medicine den quickly, snagging the carefully wrapped herbs in her teeth before swiftly darting towards the nursery, to Grayleaf's side. Setting down the herbs, she nodded to Mistwalker as he passed the young queen a stick, relief flooding through her. Good, that should help, at least a little bit. In the mean time....

Mossbloom pulled out the chervil, chewing it carefully before dripping the juices onto a leaf and moving it in front of the queen. "Here, Grayleaf, you're doing great. This will help." Making sure that Grayleaf got all of the juice from the chervil she could, Mossbloom set to work to ensure all was well. Gently pressing her nose to Grayleaf's belly, she could feel the tremors racking her body. Yes, it was definitely time. Any heartbeat now, and they would welcome the first of the kits. Sympathy wrung her heart, this would be one of the largest litters she had seen. Nonetheless, Grayleaf would do great, and all would be well.

Grayleaf fell to another surge of pain. It felt like seasons, but alas, it all stopped. There were 5 tiny little bodies nestled up besides her. They were so small, Grayleaf felt like she could fit them in a single paw. She looked up at her mate with loving eyes. “We did it.” She whispered to him. She then looked at Mossbloom. “Thank you, friend, for being by my side.” She smiled at her, then at her kits. Then a look of worry swept over her as she pointed to one of the bodies with her tail. “Why is this one not moving? Is he ill? Surely you can make him better, right?” Her worst fears were being lived. She just started, and already she was failing at being a mother. 

She desperately nosed the kit, licking the small body. But it did not move. He lied motionless, and tears began to form in Grayleaf’s eyes. She pushed the kit to her belly. “Come on, little one. Drink like the others. You will feel better soon.”

The new kit just about shrieked, tossing his head upwards in a hurry as Grayleaf's whiskers gently tickled his back. He mewled at the faint vibrations of her weary voice, his head clunking back down just a moment after, unaware of the scene going on above him or the brother that he'll never get to know.

His small, pink-tinged paws soon propelled his body forward, guiding him clumsily over an equally eager sibling and towards the patient embrace of his mother's warm belly; however, he blindly plunged a paw into a crevice made by the kitten he clambered over and another squirming body, the misstep throwing away what little balance he had.. and resulting in him accidentally becoming wedged between the two.

A pitiful screech followed suit, his limbs flailing wildly as he tried to figure out which way was up and push away whatever had him stuck at the same time.

Mistwalker purred. "You did great, dearest." He began to point out which one would be which name they had chosen. "Eaglekit, Weedkit, Birchkit, Marshkit, and Rainkit." But Marshkit wasn't moving..? He nudged it. "Come on, little Marshkit... Be strong like the cat you are named after."

"You're welcome, Grayleaf, you did a fantastic job. You'll be a wonderful mother." Mossbloom purred in response, looking at the five kits. Four of them were moving quite a bit, one of the toms getting caught between his siblings. With a gentle nudge of her nose, she rolled him onto his belly, freeing him from the capture of his littermates. However.... Concern rose as she took a closer look at the fifth kit, the one so recently named Marshkit. She blinked as the nudges and licks of his mother did not stir him, and moved closer to the tiny body. "Shh, Grayleaf, let me take a look, stay calm dear..." Her mouth went dry as she licked the fur of the kit the wrong way several times, rasping as she did so. There was warmth there, but it didn't seem to come from within the motionless figure.

Pressing her nose to the kit's chest and belly gently, her blood ran cold as she couldn't sense a heartbeat. No, there just had to be one, it couldn't be so. She strained every one of her senses, but still there was nothing. Peering into the kits mouth revealed that there was nothing blocking his throat, he was just... Gone. Gone before he had ever taken his first breath. Her green eyes looked to Mistwalker first, sadness and regret shining in them. This was the first kit she had been unable to save, and it was one of her dearest friends, a she-cat she had watched grow from a kit. She took a deep breath, gently rolling the tom-kit onto his belly as if he was sleeping, before bringing herself to look at Grayleaf. The tears in the she-cat's eyes threatened Mossbloom's own, and her head dropped slightly. "Oh Grayleaf, Mistwalker, I'm so sorry... There's nothing I can do...."

She wished that Pricklebush were there, he would know better what to say. What can you say to a queen that just lost her kit, and from her first litter? There were no words to make the pain less, and there was only so much herbs could do. She hoped, prayed, that StarClan would return the young kit, but was met with only silence broken occasionally by the little squeaks of the surviving kits. Extending another prayer, she begged for StarClan to grant these four kits protection, and keep them safe. If they must take their brother, surely they could hear that request.

Grayleaf's mouth hung open in a wordless cry. This couldn't be so. This was all a dream! It had to be! The birth must've not happened yet, and this was just reflecting her fears! She would give birth to healthy kits. 5 healthy kits. She nudged Marshkit still. 

"My dearest friend. You know I love you so, but you are wrong." You have to be, she added silently to herself. "Come one now Marshkit, wake up now. Come join your siblings." It was a common form of denial. She merely couldn't believe that her kit was dead. She began to lick her kit's fur, still trying to stir the kit's movements relentlessly.

Mistwalker smiled, happy for himself, happy for Grayleaf, happy for the whole clan. Five new kits, five future warriors. Mossbloom began to check up on little Marshkit- probably the runt of the litter, but he knew that Marshkit could grow to be the biggest and strongest of his siblings. He nuzzled his mate. “Yes, Grayleaf, stay calm now. Marshkit is perfectly well. I’m sure he merely…” Mossbloom’s expression wasn’t his favorite. “Merely is resting. Perhaps he is not hungry.” He pushed away the horrible feeling that had settled in his gut. Mossbloom’s expression was one of concentration, surely, not of bad news. He himself was known to make faces while concentrated on hunting, and so was Grayleaf. It was one of the many things he loved about her. Now distracted, his heart felt full of love for his mate and kits. Such beautiful kits, of course because of their beautiful mother.

He moved in closer to his tired mate. Oh, he loved her so much… She was his sunrise, more beautiful than the starry night sky in personality and demeanor and words and such dazzling teal eyes unlike any he’d ever seen. He could stare into them and talk to her for the entirety of daylight. And now they had kits to enjoy life with. She’d brought him out of his codebreaking funk, helped him see the light of life. And she was the light. Now he had five more lights, five little kits. He would raise them well, with the help of every cat he loved. He hadn’t been this happy for a long time. It felt good. Perhaps he should bring her some prey after working so much. He was so proud.

Mossbloom looked up, eyes holding tears in them. That expression… Mistwalker didn’t like it. It was the expression that held bad news, that held devastation, that held sadness- No, he refused to make assumptions. There had to be something else. Maybe he was deaf. Yes, maybe the young kit was going to grow up blind, or deaf, or something that meant Marshkit was alive. Perhaps this “Starclan” had told her Marshkit was destined for the elders’ den the moment he became a warrior. I’m so sorry... That voice didn’t merely hold a disability. That voice didn’t hold a storm coming, or a mauling or a fox attack. That voice held… death.

No.

No, he couldn’t be…

Not his kit… Not Marshkit. He couldn’t simply be dead- He… He couldn’t…

But he was. The scent of death had already hit his nose. Grayleaf wouldn’t believe it. And Mistwalker didn’t want to. He was smarter than that, though. He knew he had to accept it. That didn’t make it hurt any less, though. Nothing could take away the pain. “H- He’s… No… My kit… There has to be something you can do, t- t- to fix him, bring him back, something, anything...” He stuck his face in the tiny bundle’s fur. “Pray to your Starclan, tell them to give him back, come back, please, I can’t lose… I can’t… Please....” He begged, to no one in particular, voice cracking and quieting as he failed to hold back the tears.

“No, no, please, come back...” Terror and guilt blossomed in his chest and tore at his heart. Was this Starclan’s way of punsihing him for not believing before. “I’ll do anything, just please don’t do this to me, to us… please… come back, come back, don’t… I can’t… I’ll give anything…” He began to sob, pressing his face into Grayleaf’s fur instead, drinking in her scent. Her living, breathing self. He could no longer speak, only seek comfort that never came.

Perhaps his kit was in paradise. In Starclan. Happy. Oh, he wanted to believe it so bad. Perhaps it was. Perhaps Oakstar really did have nine lives. That thought… That Marshkit wasn’t gone forever… It brought him peace. Hope. It alleviated the pain that gnawed at him, if only by a small amount. He had to accept it, he knew. There would not be five new cats welcomed into Thunderclan today. There would be four. Four kits he would raise to grow strong. He knew, if the time came, he would sacrifice anything and everything for any of them. But still… If he could trade his life for Marshkit’s he would.

He wasn’t stupid. He knew that wasn’t possible. He pulled his tear-stained face away from Grayleaf, trying to calm his breathing. If only. So many if onlies. At least he still had the other four. And Grayleaf. And Oakstar, Dustcloud, Nettlepaw. Perhaps he could get through this. Yet, as much as he tried to cheer himself up…

None of it would take away the horror that the rest he had could be ripped away from him just as Marshkit had been. Dead before he knew it. He could only hope and pray.

And fear.

He was proud of his son. It was an indisputable and uncontested fact. Despite their different views, he held a deep love for his family that was as large and eternal as the night sky that held the precious stars. The wailing of Grayleaf upon entering the camp had his immediate attention, but as he watched Mossbloom rush into the nursery, he stood back.

He waited. As sounds quieted into silence. Until he felt like it was safe and appropriate to approach, finding a scene that made his heart swell, then plummet. Four healthy kits, nursing and happy. His grandkits. It was the sight of the fifth that had him feeling sorrow. The little kit was hapless, unmoving despite the lavished attention.

He stepped back, out of the nursery to give them a moment to breathe as he looked up towards the sky. Tears welled in his Amber eyes as he prayed quietly to the stars hidden by daylight.
"Starclan… I will give you one of my lives, if you will allow him to return to us." his tone was soft, inaudible to the clan around him, but the tone of yearning sadness wasn’t. The ache in his chest felt loud enough for the world to hear.

The yowl immediately set Dacepaw's fur bristling, her eyes widening in alarm as she immediately abandoned her task of grooming her belly to sit upright and gaze for the source. She realized quite quickly that it came from the nursery; however, it only made her stomach knot with discomfort. Grayleaf is a queen, like that cat at the Gathering. She's kitting, like momma told me. Dappleshine had told her it was painful, but it brought new life into the forest. The medicine cats were there to help.

The small tortoiseshell apprentice went uncertainly back to her grooming, and she passed the time until the nursery had gone quiet. Dacepaw watched with curiosity and wariness as Oakstar, quite aware of the happenings inside the den, drew close after his long watch and entered the den. She waited in the clearing, sitting up and wondering what her leader was seeing. And Mistwalker - he had been there with Grayleaf. And the queen! The new mother, how would she be? Dappleshine had explained that if the medicine cats were there then everything would be okay, and so some of her nerves soothed a little.

When Oakstar emerged again, however, Dacepaw immediately saw the shadow of grief on his face. For a moment the apprentice sat motionless, watching the strong, brave tom several fox-lengths before her as he took a soft breath and gazed up to the sky, murmuring something. She saw her leader's tears and slowly rose to her paws, moving towards him.

"O-Oakstar?" she asked, her voice quavering. "You're... You're sad. What's wrong?" She gazed up at him with big, searching eyes full of concern and sincerity.

Mossbloom's head lowered sadly as Grayleaf refused to believe her, saying that she was wrong. But the cold, breathless, tiny kit would not listen to his mother's pleas... Just as StarClan hadn't listened to Mossbloom's silent ones. She watched through tears as the new queen attempted to revive her kit, the twinge of desperation in her voice clawing at the medicine cat's heart. Mistwalker registered her words, and her ears flattened against her head in regret. His shaking voice filled the nursery, and as he buried his head in Grayleaf's pelt her shoulders started to shake. There was nothing she could do, not for Marshkit, at least.

The other four kits were all moving relentlessly, which was a good sign. They were oblivious to the scene happening around them, and would never know their brother, properly at least. None of them would. Stepping out of the nursery quickly, she almost walked right into Oakstar's back. As her eyes met his, the tears started to fall and she looked away quickly. Their leader was their grandfather, and she had failed them all. Moving quickly, paws heavy as she tried to see in front of her, she headed towards the medicine cat den and found by scent more than sight her stores of thyme. Grabbing a generous clump in a leaf, she headed back for the nursery, ignoring the rest of the clan around the camp. Stopping next to Oakstar, she gingerly placed a sprig of thyme in front of his paws before continuing into the nursery.

Slowly, she added a couple sprigs of thyme to the borage and raspberry leaves she had already gathered for Grayleaf to have after the kitting, and pushed them in front of her gently. "Grayleaf, my dear, you need to eat these... Don't worry, I'll keep doing all I can, but for now you need to focus on eating these, okay?" She glanced down at the still motionless kit and her breath caught, knowing there was nothing that could be down. But StarClan, she would certainly try. Touching her nose to Mistwalker's shoulder, she placed a couple more bits of thyme before him. "You're not immune either. You need to eat these if you're going to be around your new kits. It will help." Hopefully the thyme would offer them some comfort and ease of mind.... Even as she wished she could make it all go away. As she looked over the fifth kit once more, she tried everything she knew. Anything she could think of to get a cat to wake up, to move, to start breathing again.... Yet nothing worked.