Blood-Stained Feathers [closed/Bloodstrike, Sagelight, Wolf/Blossom maybe?]

Smokefeather had been restless the past few days. Her kits would be born soon, and so the she-cat was limited in what she could do. Being idle had never come easy to the fluffy she-cat, and between the greenleaf heat and the feeling of exhaustion dragging at her, Smokefeather was very eager to have her kits. She had complained remarkably little throughout the pregnancy, and did her best to avoid snapping at her clanmates, especially Bloodstrike. Poor furball didn't deserve her temper, after all. Her kitting drew nearer with each day, and each day Smokefeather felt more ungainly and clumsy. She was elated, really.

She was stretched across her nest in the nursery, faint pre-dawn light filtering in from the entrance, and half-asleep when the pain caught her by surprised. Smokefeather jerked awake with a groan. She'd been told what that pain meant. "Bloodstrike!" She called, "Get Sagelight, the--" Her words ended in a hiss and several muffled curses as a fresh burst of pain ripped through her. Oh goodie, the kits wanted out nearly as much as she did. Smokefeather prayed silently to Starclan that her mate had heard her and wasn't out wandering the forest as he'd been prone to do during their apprentice days. Stars, she'd shred his ears herself if that were so.

All Smokefeather could do was hope the old medicine cat would be here quickly.

The older medicine cat in question was pottering about his den, sorting herbs and being very, very diligent on where and how they were placed. He would not make any mistakes, not ever again. There was a faint noise in the background, or, his background, given his unreliable hearing. Sagelight frowned, flicking his ear. Was that his imagination, or was that something he actually heard? He poked his head out of the den and took a look around, catching a scent in the air, the scent of blood, and--...Oh stars,, he recognized that smell. Smokefeather was pregnant, it must be her that was kitting.

"Be there in one sec, Smokefeather!" he called, ducking back into the den. He reemerged with raspberry leaves, chervil, and a couple sticks in his jaws, trotting as fast as his stocky legs would carry him into the nursery. Sagelight dropped his supplies onto the ground beside where the queen lay and pushed the leaves and a stick towards her face. "Chew on these but don't eat them, then take the stick in your mouth and bite down on it. It'll help with the pain," he instructed, then moved to press a gentle paw along her swollen stomach. "One, two...there's three...four... All feel healthy and lively." Sagelight muttered into the humid air, tail lashing in concentration. His eyes focused as best they could on the form of Smokefeather's blurry face. "Don't worry, Bloodstrike and I will be right here with you. I won't let anything happen to you or your kits if its the last thing I do."

Speaking of...where was Bloodstrike?

He'd only just become a father it felt like a few moons ago, and already, Wolfcall was going to be a grandfather. He'd been elated when he heard the news - the deputy knew from an early age that Smokefeather and Bloodstrike were a thing... the way they acted around each other, talked to each other, it reminded him a lot of himself and Blossomstep. Granted, he was a little older than his mate, and they didn't get to do their apprenticeships together, but it was hard not to see the affection between his son and the pretty dappled she-cat.

It had been an early hunt for the deputy that had him awake at this hour, and a successful one that was obvious as he trotted into the SkyClan camp with two thrushes and a robin dangling by their wingtips from his jaws. Carefully, he placed two of them on the fresh-kill pile and selected the plumpest of the three to take to the nursery for Smokefeather. He was halfway to the nursery when he noticed Sagelight rushing in, and his eyes widened in alarm. Was it time? Were the kits coming? The scent of blood and herbs in the air confirmed the theory.

"Blossomstep!" he yelped, dropping the bird there in the middle of the camp and spinning in place to sprint towards the warriors' den, where his mate would likely be sleeping. He poked his head in, an overly excited whisper-shout escaping him, "Blossomstep! I think the kits are coming!"

Bloodstrike had left early that morning as well, finding himself restless as the days drew nearer to when his first litter would be born. His anxiety had been as high as his excitement. Was he ready to be a father? Would he be a good one? Would his children love him? He and Smokefeather certainly had a bond before she became a warrior, but he had always kept himself under control and so had she. Warriors and apprentices were forbidden, nevermind that they were very close in age. Once she had been named, it didn't take long at all for the clan to know that they were mates.

He padded into camp with a fat squirrel hanging from his teeth when he saw Sagelight rushing around and his father dropped a thrush and raced to the warrior's den calling for Blossomstep. Excitement rushed through Bloodstrike's veins at the same time that a cold lump settled in his chest. He bolted toward the nursery, his jaws still clenching the squirrel's head tightly. He dropped it with a fat thump right at the edge, though made sure it was out of the way of any scrambling paws.

"I'm here!" He declared as he trotted in. The smell and sight of blood wasn't an issue... it was the other weird stuff that had the striped tom rear his head back in surprise at first. The sight wasn't the problem either... the scent though...

I'm good I'm good I'm good.... snap out of it! He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear the scent from his nostrils. Stars he did not handle odd scents well! He wasn't going to complain though... he just hoped Sagelight might remember to shove something down his throat to still his nausea. Otherwise, he might need to step outside once in awhile and he didn't want to do that. What was he even supposed to be doing now???

"Do you need anything Smokefeather?" He asked, completely at a loss of what to do that Sagelight wasn't already doing.

Soon enough, Sagelight was there, and Smokefeather thought she heard Wolfcall's excited yowl from outside the den. Bloodstrike poked his head into the nursery, and Smokefeather managed a smile through the pain. She noticed the squirrel Bloodstrike had dropped, and grimaced, "I'm fine... I think. That squirrel might not be a good idea," Yes, definitely not a good idea with the way her stomach clenched at the sight of it. Or maybe that was the contraction, either way, it hurt.

Thank the stars for Sagelight's steady presence, she thought, picking up the leaves and chewing as instructed. Not for the the first time, Smokefeather found herself disgusted at the taste and yet grateful. The herbs definitely did their job. Sagelight's muttering registered in her ears, somewhat belatedly. Had he said four kits? Healthy? Stars. This was actually happening, she and Bloodstrike were going to be parents.

---

The first three- all she-kits- had gone... smoothly? Well, there was pain, and Smokefeather had made good use of the stick that Sagelight had brought. The first was a soft silver tabby and white, the second a pale patchwork of silver and cream and white, and the third a soft cream. Small, perfect scraps of fluff. Smokefeather almost didn't want to take her eyes off of them. Healthy and lively, Sagelight had said, and the old medicine cat was right.

The fourth seemed to be taking longer, though. Was something wrong? Why was there so much pain? Smokefeather let out a soft hiss through clenched teeth before sinking her teeth into the stick once more. By the end of this, she was sure it would be nothing more than splinters.

---

In the distant direction of twolegplace, the loud wailing of multiple sirens shattered the quiet morning near the border. There were more than a few, and the piercing cry was enough to startle a flock of birds from their nests, trilling in alarm. The sirens were very faint from Smokefeather's protected place in the nursery, just barely hitting the edge of a cat's sensitive hearing. The flock of birds was more noticeable, however. A shudder of pain rippled through the she-cat's body.

The fourth kit was finally born, albeit with a bit more blood and pain than Smokefeather had expected. The pain was nothing compared to the sense of relief she felt, however. The fourth kit was a tom, and, while his birth had been painful, he was healthy. All four of their kits were healthy. A soft purr caught in Smokefeather's throat as she gazed down at their kits.

"Bloodstrike" Smokefeather rasped, having mostly been too caught up in the pain to have paid attention to his possible comings and goings. "Aren't they perfect?"

Bloodstrike practically launched the squirrel away from the entrance with a powerful back leg kick the instant Smokefeather said she wanted it gone. Starclan knows where it ended up. He knew he shouldn't have, but right now, he had other priorities. He watched for kits intently, but made absolutely sure to give Sagelight enough room to work. Three kits were born without any issue and Bloodstrike nearly forgot that he was ever nauseous. They were so tiny! He watched them crawl toward Smokeeather for milk and a warm emotion inside his chest swelled so much he thought he might burst. Every squeak they made, every movement, was etched into his memory forever.

Then the final one... why did this one take so long? Smokefeather bled more... she was in more pain. What was happening? Dread filled Bloodstrike's entire being and paralyzed him helplessly to the spot. What could he possibly do to help? Watching Sagelight work, he waited for some kind of order... anything... to give Bloodstrike something he could do aside from worry. But the medicine cat was good enough on his own. Eventually, the bright white tom... Bloodstrike's only son... took his first gasp of breath.

Sirens blared and raged in the distance, startling Bloodstrike into snapping his head in the direction of the thunderpath. He stepped outside the den only briefly as a fierce sense of paternal protectiveness overwhelmed him. He certainly felt like he could fight and even kill monsters right now. Many birds flew overhead in a panicked flock. He'd never seen them do it en mass before... only when he or another cat scared them. The sirens wailed in the distance, filling the forest with a sense of panic.

I need to make sure my kits are healthy first... and I need to see to Smokefeather... then I will go see what is going on on the Thunderpath. He watched as other Skyclan warriors bolted in the direction of the noise and felt some sense of relief. They would come back with news, if there was any. Bloodstrike stepped back into the den and his eyes landed on his kits once more.

"Smokefeather, I don't know of a word that could describe our kits. Perfect will have to do." He reclined onto his haunches and just stared at them. For the time being, the wailing of sirens was forgotten.

"Only one tom... like me and my sisters. He may have been the last one born but... what about Dawnkit for him?" As for his daughters... which was still such a foreign concept to him... he wasn't sure what to name them. He hoped Smokefeather had ideas.

OOC: Wolfcall, Blossomstep and Sagelight can pop in/respond whenever they like. We're just moving the thread along so the RPers waiting on kits can post with them. :)

"Dawnkit, he is, then." Smokefeather nodded in agreement. The name was fitting, she thought.

Now for the other three... Smokefeather gazed down at them. Three daughters... Looking at the four kits as they squirmed and mewled had an odd sense of warmth blooming in her chest. Smokefeather had wondered what the birds had seemed so upset about when their panicked calls filled the air, but whatever it was, she would not allow it to threaten their kits. Their as-yet-nameless kits. That needed to change.

"Hmm... What about Beechkit-" Smokefeather indicated the white and silver she-kit, their firstborn. She was the largest of the she-kits, and Smokefeather had the sneaking suspicion that it wasn't just the longer fur.

She turned her eyes to the next kit, the tortoiseshell. Like Smokefeather's own fur, she was a mix of grey and cream with white. "Dustkit?" Her gaze settled onto the last of  the she-kits, the one with the pale cream pelt. "Hmm... What do you think of Primrosekit?" Gray-green eyes flicked up to meet Bloodstrike's.

Blossomstep jumped up as she heard her name, her nest scattering slightly as she pushed her way hurriedly out of the den and towards the nursery alongside Wolfcall. Today was the day then! They were becoming grandparents! She could hardly contain her excitement as she waited outside the den, tail twitching continuously as she listened in anticipation. Soon, the news came that it was over, and Blossomstep carefully moved into the cozy space to greet her grandkits for the first time. She stared down at the tiny bundles in amazement before turning to her son and his mate, a purr building in her chest. "Congratulations, you both. They're absolutely beautiful, I'm so proud of you." Stepping forward to nuzzle her son's shoulder briefly before touching her nose to Smokefeather's head, she whispered. "Can I get you water, or something to eat? I can even catch a bird for you to weave feathers into your nest, if you'd like."