Small thundering voices (closed)

(Ooc: for now it’s just oak, dust and moss, will be open for the kits soon)

The chill of leafbare clung to the leaves outside of the nursery. A cold breeze filled the air as Oakstar lay curled around his mate in the early dawn light. Within the confines of the sturdy woven den, warmth seeped into every inch of pelt and muscle. His ear twitched briefly at the sharp sound of a late acorn falling onto a rock outside.

Amber eyes opened slowly, noticing the brightness with a low groan. His muscles were sore from the constant alternating between night and day shifts. He licked Dustcloud’s silver forehead with a rumbling purr. Affection swelled in his chest for his mate, who was now burdened with new bundles for the clan.

Ones that would be arriving soon. He stood slowly, and winced as his tail brushed the nest a bit more than intended. Dustcloud needed every inch of sleep she could get, and he didn’t want to wake her.

Snow fell gently in the realm of Dustcloud's dreams, delicate flakes landing on her fur as she weaved past trees and shrubbery. With each thud of her paws against the cold, hard ground, a flurry of dry grass and powder-like snow flew into the air. A rather plump hare had caught her attention, and now the chase had ensued. Agility and speed were both owed to the WindClan blood flowing through her veins, adrenaline lending a hand as she finally pounced, easily landing the catch and ending it quickly. Before she could turn around to bury the hare, though, a rustly sound filled her ears and her eyes fluttered open, landing on her mate in front of her. Before her vision cleared, she knew it was time.

"Please f-fetch Mossbloom, d-dear." She bowed her head to her mate, flicking her tail towards her stomach to signify what was to begin shortly. "I b-believe it's time n-now." As soon as she finished the sentence, the first wave of pain lanced throughout her body, reaching the tips of her paws. With a wince, she nodded to Oakstar, hoping Mossbloom would be swift with the herbs and, hopefully, a stick to bite down on.

Time? Oakstar’s eyes widened as those blue eyes he so loved opened. The pain that flittered through them wrenched his chest for a moment until it clicked. Now. She was having the kits, Now. His purr caught in his throat as he leaned forward to offer her a nuzzle of comfort before he bolted from the nursery. A great dark streak against the stark whiteness of the new snow as he skidded in front of the medicine den.

"Mossbloom! Dustcloud… she needs you, they’re coming!" He called, choking back panic. There was no need to panic or worry. The kits would be born, and they would be fine and healthy. There was no reason to think otherwise…

...stories of she-cats lost to birthing rang in his head. He shoved them back with a vengeance as he thought of Mistkit and Nettlekit. Both of them had been born healthy… they had become strong and dependable warriors. He bit back any notion that this would be a different situation. Their kits would be strong, and Dustcloud would be fine. She had to be.

Mossbloom had been keeping a close eye on Dustcloud. Her belly had swollen with the weight of the kits she was carrying, and she knew it would be any sunrise.... So she had prepared the bundle of herbs in anticipation, along with a stick for the queen to bite down on. The older she-cat had seen many litters, and was an experienced queen, and unlike her last litter Mossbloom was more experienced in the birthing of kits, but there was still the haunting nervousness that accompanied the task. All it took was one wrong step... 

Skidding paws outside her den, followed quickly by Oakstar's voice, pulled her from the memory of Mistwalker and Grayleaf's litter, and the young members that did not manage to take their first breaths. Her head shot up immediately, meeting Oakstar's panicked eyes with calm green ones. Standing at ducking in to grab the prepared herb bundle, she passed the stick along with a single, wrinkled juniper berry to the leader. "Eat that, Oakstar. Don't worry, all will be well. She's a strong she-cat." Mossbloom muttered around her bundle before brushing past Oakstar, letting her tail tip brush across his shoulder in reassurance before darting through the camp to the nursery. 


Pushing her way inside, she set the herb bundle down and opened the leaf, and set some chervil and juniper in front of the kitting queen. "Here you are, Dustcloud. You eat those, I'll check on the kits, alright? Oakstar is bringing a stick for you." She purred as she gently pressed her nose to the swollen belly of the queen, gauging the tremors and using her paws to gingerly feel the kits within. "It won't be long, Dustcloud, you're doing great. We'll be fine." She smiled to the older she-cat before focusing on her task. All would be well. It had to be.

A gentle, pained smile worked its way onto Dustcloud's muzzle at Mossbloom's appearance, grateful for the herbs that were set in front of her. The taste hardly bothered her anymore, and she downed them quickly. "You're doing great, Mossbloom." Thoughts of what had happened to her son's litter filled her mind, and she was sure that Mossbloom and Oakstar were thinking the same thing. They'd had so many litters now that it almost felt natural, but the thought kept creeping into her mind despite her efforts to push it away.

Frequent glances outside the nursery made her worry even further, waiting for her mate to arrive. She wasn't sure if Oakstar had to go retrieve the stick or if Mossbloom already had one prepared, but nonetheless, she hated his absence. Aside from Blacktwig's kits, she'd never had a litter without him, and she didn't want to do it now. Where could he be?

Oakstar felt a pang of relief as Mossbloom responded immediately, giving him a stick and a strange leaf to chew down before racing off to the nursery. He grimaced at the taste of the leaf, allowing it to calm him down as he looked around the camp for a moment. Nettlefire and Mistwalker… they deserved to know, but he didn’t see them at the first glance, and he didn’t want to waste more time. He grabbed the stick and rushed into the nursery, ignoring his tail getting slightly scratched by a bramble as he pressed himself close to Dustcloud’s side.

He placed the stick in front of her muzzle.
"Here, beloved." He purred, carefully moving so that his bulk was behind hers, providing her a comforting cushion as he rumbled and smoothed the fur on her head.

A sigh of relief accompanied by yet another wave of pain appeared when Oakstar made his way into the nursery. Taking the stick between her teeth gratefully, she winced as Mossbloom gingerly felt the kits with her paws. And then, she pushed.

The first kit to be born was a silvery tom, with darker grey patches speckled throughout his fur. The second was a light-furred tabby she-cat, and the third a dark-furred tom, who favored his father's ancestry. It had been several moments since she'd finished, and the three bundles of fur lay at her belly. Looking to Oakstar, she smiled. "Leopardkit, Daisykit, and Coniferkit." Nodding her head, she leaned down to smooth the fur on their heads gently. Another litter, born safely without any complications. Thank StarClan.

The world was dark, cold, and silent aside from the rapid pace of his heartbeat.  With tiny ears and eyes sealed shut, the little squirming ball of wet fur squealed at deafening volumes, a promise of warmth guiding his stumpy paws towards the scent of milk.  Driven forward by his one-minded desire, the large kitten shoved against two other warm bodies, pushing his littermates out of the way to claim a spot at their mother's soft belly.  It was only then that his crying ceased, kneading paws revealing nourishing milk; for now, he was content.

A rather large kit, the last to be unwillingly exposed to the cold world, began mewing quietly for something not known to the newborn by name, but by a natural pang for it. His minutes-older brother pushed against him in search of the very same thing, unseen but felt by the still blind and deaf kit. He crawled towards the only apparent source of warmth he could sense with his limited range of senses, his mother.

Coniferkit. If he'd been able to hear and understand at the moment, would he object to such a name? He didn't know, nor did he think about it. He wasn't even aware of the concept of names, his only thoughts the primordial callings of his instincts. It would be a while yet before he got to hear his name for the first time, and longer still before he got to see his mother. His siblings. The world. He'd grow up, become a warrior. Perhaps even be a parent one day, or a leader, or both like his father. He didn't know or care. For now, none of that was expected of him anyway. All he needed to do, in this moment, was stay by his mother's side.

Stormpaw padded into the nursery, a squirrel in her jaws. The squirrel was one of the best pieces of fresh-kill left on the regrettably small pile, and as a queen, Stormpaw knew her mother, Dustcloud, must be fed first. This was becoming a normal routine. Each morning since her apprenticeship, Stormpaw personally brought her mother something from the fresh-kill pile. Leaf-bare, the elders told her, was a tough time of year to be kitting. Most kits and queens died from frost or hunger during leaf-bare, so Stormpaw made it her job each morning to bring her mom prey, and collect moss for her bedding.

This morning, though, Stormpaw was in for a surprise. She padded in like normal, a purr in her throat. Though when she opened her eyes and saw three kits suckling at her mother's belly, her mouth opened wide, and the squirrel dropped from her jaws onto the cold, hard ground with a thud. "Kits!" The silver tabby trilled, picking up the squirrel and bringing it to her mother. Stormpaw's vivid blue eyes shone brightly, and she gazed at her new siblings with love. "What are their names?" She mewed, her voice filled with awe. Her mew was hardly more than a whisper. She would protect these kits no matter what, that she was sure of.

The kit squirmed in the cold darkness. She knew suddenly that she should get closer to her mother. She squirmed for milk. And when she reached her mother, she took a long drink and her small body was filled with warmth. She blinked sleepily, and laid next to her mother as she drifted off to sleep. The innocent kit only knew love, warmth, and family, and she stayed that way, at least for the night.