A kitten is saved. (Closed)

The kitten mewled pitifully, trembling inside of his only shelter from the elements: the box the twoleg had left him in. He was too young to understand what was going on around him, especially as he was only born three days earlier. He was given one day of warmth with his mother, of love and compassion, before the queen's owner whisked him away and abandoned him and the rest of his littermates on the side of the road. At first, the fawn-colored tom had huddled with the rest of his kin for warmth in the harsh leaf-bare, but six kittens dwindled down to five, then four... then, finally, one. The final kit was on the brink of death himself, hardly able to move, and definitely not able to shake off the cold that shocked him to his core. So he continued to cry out, becoming weaker by the second.

The waning moon barely gave off any light to the earth below, but that was just how Sparkfire liked it. She always found she could hunt better the darker it was. Thankfully, her time as a kittypet hadn't softened her; she could still remember how to hunt, even if her posture was a little rusty. It still did the job, though, having been able to hunt for both herself and Honeysong for a while now. She still remembered the fateful day her former kittypet mate, Angel, had passed away. Apparently, there had been a rather aggressive dog loose in the new Twolegplace the two of them had moved to. Not even Angel could make friends with such a horrid beast. It still stung having to watch her be ripped to shreds, and after the fact, she knew she could no longer stay. The memories were too painful.

So now, here she was, hunting outside of the territories in the abandoned part of Twolegplace. For a little while, she had been hunting for just herself, but once a familiar cat had come along, she began hunting for her as well. Honeysong, the former medicine cat of SkyClan, had apparently been captured by Twoleg kits. She had been trying to retrieve catmint from Twolegplace when she was abducted, and only just now was she finally able to escape. On her way back, she had come across Sparkfire, and the fragile love between the two of them began to blossom into something more deep and meaningful. Before long, both mollies knew that neither would be able to return to the simple, normal lives they had once lived, for the ShadowClan warrior had fallen in love with the SkyClan medicine cat. What would their families think if they ever decided to try to return to their Clans? Would they accept them again? Would they even be allowed to stay together?

Sparkfire's thoughts were interrupted by tiny squeaks coming from a few fox-lengths away. At first, it sounded like an adolescent mouse or squirrel, so the dark-furred molly decided to investigate, stalking slowly and silently towards the source of the noise. As she got closer, however, she recognized the sounds for what they really were: a kit's mewling. Almost instantly, she spotted a brown Twoleg container, and she could pick up a waning kittypet scent ... as well as the scent of death. Rushing over as quickly as she could, Sparkfire peered down into the container, and what she saw broke her heart.

Inside the container was a litter of newborn kits, but only one was shivering and making the pathetic noises. The others stood completely still, not a single rise or fall of their tiny bodies showing indication of life. They must have been abandoned by a Twoleg. But ... why? Who in their right mind would abandon newborn kits?

Who in their right mind would abandon their Clan for a kittypet?

Sparkfire winced at the biting remark in her head, shaking it to try and push it to the back of her mind. She glanced back down at the tiny, sand-colored kit. It was a cold night, so it was obvious this last living kit wouldn't make it to see another dawn if she didn't do something quick. Unfortunately, neither she nor Honeysong had any milk to feed it. ...But maybe Honeysong could use some of her herbs as a substitute to feed it. Or she herself could chew up some fresh-kill for it to suckle. They would be able to think of something to care for the kit. They would need to. Its life depended on it.

Lowering her head into the container, she gently grabbed the kit by the scruff, noting how it didn't even have the strength to struggle or cry out at being jostled. It really was on the brink of death. Quickly, completely forgetting about her hunt, Sparkfire turned around and retreated back to one of the old, abandoned Twoleg dens where she and her mate resided.

---

The abandoned Twoleg den wasn't too far from the area where Sparkfire did most of her hunting, so she was able to return to her mate in no time. She padded in, spotting Honeysong raise up her head from where she lay in the back of the den, her blue eyes glistening with warmth in the darkness. "Welcome back, Sparkfire. I'm happy to see your hunt was a succe--" She was cut off mid-sentence as Sparkfire made a rapid bee-line towards her, and she realized the furry little creature in her mouth was not fresh-kill, but instead a tiny kit. "Great StarClan! The poor thing! Where did you find it?"

Sparkfire shook out her fur, flattened by her run, to bush it back out again, protecting herself from the cold leaf-bare air. "I think a Twoleg abandoned it. It had littermates. ...This one was the only survivor, though." She saw Honeysong's eyes darken with sorrow. "I knew we couldn't just wait for this one to join them. We have to save it."

"I couldn't agree more," the cream-colored molly replied. She drew her tail around the small, shivering bundle of fur and dragged it close to her belly, hoping to warm it back up. She looked back up at the darker cat. "The poor thing's nearly frozen. Sparkfire, I need you to find me some herbs."

Sparkfire winced, looking uncomfortable. "Come on, Honeysong. You know how confusing all those plants and stuff are to me. Every leaf looks like the next."

"Then keep it warm while I go find some." The former medicine cat's voice was brisk, almost impatient. Sparkfire didn't take it to heart, of course. She knew Honeysong would never get short with her without a reason. To be perfectly honest, she found her occasional spunk to be refreshing and, dare she say, attractive.

The two mollies swapped places with each other, Sparkfire huddling close to the kit while Honeysong left the den to find some herbs. She wrapped her bushy tail around the small kit and began grooming it with her tongue, hoping to warm it up quicker. "Don't worry, little one," she whispered, unsure if it was even old enough to understand what she was saying. "We won't let you die. We'll save you."

It was dark, and it was cold, and he was scared. The kitten had been snatched up from his littermates, and had he been any older he would have wanted to go back and be with them, to not leave them behind. But being only a few days old, all the kit could think about was when the next meal was, and when he could be warm again... the movement stopped, and he could barely hear two voices through his still-closed ears. He was set down, and then suddenly... warmth. He scrambled towards it, seeking whatever the heat was coming from, and was met with softness. Still shivering, he huddled next to the warmth, the softness, and relished the feeling of being taken care of.

Sparkfire had finally managed to warm up the kit to a comfortable body temperature with her tongue and body heat by the time Honeysong returned. She carried an assortment of herbs wrapped in a beech leaf in her mouth, all of which the former ShadowClan warrior couldn't recognize. She didn't move from her spot, however, not wanting the kit to become cold again, so she waited and watched as her mate went to work in chewing up several different leaves into a pulp. She tilted her head. "What herbs ya got there, Honeysong?"

"Just some things to give it strength, cure any fever, prevent greencough...." she meowed around a mouthful of herbs. "And some heather nectar to make it sweeter and easier to swallow. Anything else it may need, I'll get on a later date. I can take over keeping it warm; think you can hunt something for it to eat?"

Sparkfire nodded, rising up to her feet and stretching out her stiff limbs. She let Honeysong take her place next to the kit, watching as she dabbed small dollops of the herb poultice on his nose for him to instinctually lick off. Leaving the expert to her practice, the warrior left the den and resumed her hunt. It didn't take long for her to return with a pair of small mice; she wished she could have found more, but at least it was better than nothing at all. By the time she had returned, Honeysong had finished feeding the poultice to the kit and was now snuggling against him, purring gently to him. Sparkfire approached and dropped the fresh-kill next to her. "It's not much, but at least it's more than enough to feed it," she meowed.

"Thank you, Sparkfire," Honeysong purred. She took one of the mice in her mouth and bit off a piece of its belly, beginning to chew it up until it resembled the herb poultice she had fed the kit earlier. She spat out the warm, meaty tidbit in front of it and nudged it forward, waiting for it to begin suckling. "I hope he'll be able to eat it. If not, I'll just feed him the rest of that heather nectar until the borage I'd eaten earlier kicks it. It'll help me produce a little milk for him."

"Him?" Sparkfire echoed.

Honeysong nodded. "While I was feeding him the poultice, I took the liberty to check if he was a tom or a molly. I was also thinking of a name for him. I was thinking ... Softkit."

"Softkit? Uh, Honeysong, no pun intended, but doesn't that name sound kinda ... well, soft to you?"

"I see nothing wrong with it. After all, I have a soft-sounding name, but I'm perfectly reliable in my own way. He has great potential, I just know it." The former medicine cat glanced back down at the little tom-kit, gazing lovingly down at him and beginning to purr again.

Sparkfire followed her mate's gaze, looking back down at him. If she had it her way, she would have wanted to name him something a little tougher. Names like Roughkit or Rockkit, or even naming him after her own kin like Flintkit, Lightningkit, or Falconkit. Well ... Honeysong had gotten to him first, she supposed. And ... it did make a bit of sense, given how soft his fur is. Then again, that may be due to the fact that he's just that, a kit.

Honeysong looked back up at Sparkfire, her expression unreadable. "What's wrong, Sparkfire? You don't like it?"

After a few moments, Sparkfire smiled and shook her head. "Nah. It's just fine, Honeysong." She cuddled up next to her mate, glancing down at Softkit. The more she looked at him, the more the name began to grow on her. "Softkit's just fine."