Rise From the Ashes [Open for family]

((OOC: set a bit after Wolfcall's leadership ceremony for consistency))

As the days slowly grew shorter, Skyclan had begun to slowly move on from the hectic existence of the last several moons. Spottedstar's disappearance and Sagelight's death had taken their toll on the Skyclanners, but they were safe in their own camp once again, and it was time to rebuild. Time went on, and Smokefeather was content in the knowledge that Wolfstar and Bloodstrike were leadership the clan could trust and rely on. They'd made it through everything, as had her and Bloodstrike's now-warrior-aged kits. Skyclan would grow strong once again, whatever came their way.

The tortoiseshell had been restless for the past day, increasingly annoyed with being idle, anxiety flaring her iminent kitting drew nearer. Beechpaw had hesitantly estimated four kits, but Smokefeather had the distinct impression that the apprentice was miscounting. It certainly felt like there were more than her first litter.

A sharp pain broke into Smokefeather's thoughts, but it wasn't entirely unfamiliar now. With a yowl to Beechpaw, there was little else to do but wait. Hopefully Bloodstrike was still in camp to hear her.

---

Beechpaw was in the middle of sorting herbs when her mother's yowl split the chilly morning air, and she sprang to her feet, rustling around the den for the raspberry leaves she'd been carefully keeping along with a couple of sticks. The news that her mother was pregnant hadn't been a complete surprise after they'd returned to their own camp, and she'd wanted to have herbs at the ready.

The large she-cat bounded across the clearing to the nursery, herbs in tow.

---

It had taken most of the day, and as Smokefeather had thought, Beechpaw had miscounted. Six mewling kits lay at her belly, and Smokefeather could do little more than lay there for several moments, an exhausted purr managing to work its' way from her chest.

Six kits, after everything the clan had gone through. Three she-kits, three toms. All healthy, Beechpaw had assured her. Her eldest daughter had looked both excited and relieved, and it was good to see her expression so at ease for the first time in moons. The medicine cat had slipped out of the den, affectionately nuzzling her mother's cheek, yet even without the large she-cat the den felt crowded.

Six kits. Their family had grown, and Skyclan along with it.

Smokefeather turned her head to gaze down at the newborns, expression soft. A black tom, a dark tabby she-kit, a black she-kit... The fourth-born was another tom, reddish and silver tabby markings with white, an interesting combination of her and Bloodstrike's pelts. The last of the she-kits was a soft-furred mix of grays and white, and finally, a loudly-mewling tom, brown and white, seemingly the liveliest of them all.

Gray-green eyes lifted to meet her mate's gaze. The kits needed names, and it was only fitting that he got to name more than just one of them this time.

"Bloodstrike," Smokefeather's voice was hoarse, her exhaustion obvious. Her gaze dropped to the kits once more, settling on the black she-kit.

"What about Ravenkit?" She asked, indicating the she-kit. Raven would certainly fit her dark pelt. And... In honor of Ravenmist, who had been more help than she even knew. Sure, she was Shadowclan, but the deputy had given Smokefeather hope when there had been none.

"Copperkit and Lichenkit?" She murmured, indicating the already-fluffy red and silver tabby tom and the youngest of the litter.

"You should name the others." She said softly, gaze turning back to Bloodstrike.

Bloodstrike had come when he first heard Smokefeather's yowling. He'd heard it before and he knew what it meant. He had been carrying a quail between his teeth at the time, and did the cat form of a drive-by-yeeting as he passed the fresh-kill pile. The quail had rolled a bit, but it was close enough that other cats would understand that it was part of the pile. He was beside Smokefeather in an instant and watched Beechpaw carefully. She seemed like she was nervous, but otherwise knew what she needed to do. Even with her mentor, Beechpaw was taking decisive action and quickly.

He couldn't have been more proud of her.

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Once the kits had been born, Bloodstrike stared just as wide-eyed as he had with his first litter. Six. His head swam a bit. He wasn't just their father, he was their deputy too. He would have to find mentors for these kits... He might ask Wolfcall later for advice on how to go about doing that. For now, he allowed himself to relax. After several hours of standing beside Smokefeather, he finally calmed down enough to sit.

Smokefeather gave three of the kits names and he nodded at each of them in turn. She was good at naming kits. He stared at the three unnamed ones for a few moments. He had named Dawnkit when he was born....

And what a nightmare he had turned out to be. Maybe naming kits after good things was bad luck? Bloodstrike didn't know. Wolfcall had named him and he knew that his mother hadn't been exactly thrilled with his name choice. But perhaps there was a method to Wolfcall's madness. Bloodstrike was willing to try it as well as ready to duck away from Smokefeather if she disapproved.... which she might.

"Alright uh..." He pointed a paw at one of them. "Jaggedkit..." He pointed to another and barely touched it with a toe. "Vulturekit... aaaaaaannnddd....." His paw lingered over the last one and poked it a few times gently, as if touching it helped him think. "Ashkit!" He finally decided before putting his forepaw back down in front of him. He stared at Smokefeather and smiled a big, cheesy grin.... waiting.

Jaggedkit, that wasn't so bad. Vulturekit was an... interesting choice, but at Ashkit, Smokefeather gave her mate a look. If she wasn't so tired right now she'd claw his fur off. Ashkit, after everything? When their camp and territory was covered in ash after the fire even now, still? It was about as bad as Wolfstar's choice in name for his youngest- and still missing- son. Did he and Wolfstar do this on purpose?

Bloodstrike was never naming a kit, again. If they ever had more kits after this, Smokefeather would name them all herself. She'd thought her mate would give them nice names, just as he had with Dawnhawk. Clearly, she was wrong.

"Ashkit..." Smokefeather let out a breath. Bloodstrike was so lucky right now. She was exhausted, and fighting over a name wasn't worth it. The soft-furred she-kit was a mix of gray with darker stripes, so she could kind of see why he'd suggest the name. But there were half a dozen different names that would have suited the kit just as well.

"Okay, fine. Ashkit, then." She grumbled, gently curling around her kits. Smokefeather didn't have the energy nor the willpower to argue with her mousebrained mate.