the light comes shining [semi-open; thrush kits + batmink family]

It had been creeping through Thrushnose’s limbs since before the sun rose—a restlessness so acute it hurt, dull and pounding, wrapped around her abdomen. This wasn’t the first time she’d felt it recently. Walking, strangely, tended to help, as a distraction if nothing else, and so Thrushnose set off alone into ThunderClan’s territory. If she had to be awake so early, she might as well help fill the fresh-kill pile.

The ever-warmer weather had brought prey back to the forest in full force. Before long, Thrushnose found a trail to follow. It led her to a plump gray-brown squirrel, searching a tree’s roots for fallen berries, utterly unaware of the striped figure crouched in the bushes behind it. She inched closer, eyes dark as they fixed themselves on her quarry—until pain wrenched her backward.

Her sharp inhale alerted the squirrel. It twisted around to stare at her as if in disbelief, then raced away, chittering wildly as it vanished into the gnarled branches. Thrushnose did not follow. Instead, she held herself very, very still, certain of only one thing as the pain persisted: Something’s wrong.

The rest came as a series of still images. Stumbling along the flattened path toward home. Searching for Daisybloom and Mossbloom, then Dovefrost when the fog cleared enough for her to remember. Being ushered toward a nest in the nursery, a stick clamped between her jaws. Thrushnose didn’t seek out her reflection often enough to notice any changes; she’d always been built more like a strong, sturdy trunk than a branch, as many of her Clanmates were. Her sudden clumsiness, she’d chalked up to eating more than her share for the last half-moon or so (and hunting to make up for it; newleaf alone couldn’t prevent ThunderClan from running low on prey). The exhaustion—well, shedding one’s leaf-bare coat could be tiring. But between flashes of color and motion, someone spoke, and the pieces in her head rearranged themselves.

Kitting. In retrospect—rather, in the midst of it—it made perfect sense.

---

The aftermath saw Thrushnose with a single, healthy (as far as she could tell) she-kit at her side and less energy than a cat who’d run across the forest and back. She’d checked the kitten’s breathing, then pulled her close for an extremely thorough grooming. Methodical though it was, the movement helped Thrushnose stay awake. There was still so much to do. Keep the kit warm, make sure she ate…and face the next biggest hurdle.

Badgermask had always been…well, Badger. Thrushnose couldn’t imagine her with any other name. But the kitten tucked against Thrushnose’s side was nameless, and would be forever unless she came up with something. A lifelong prefix for someone she hadn’t even known existed until today. At least the kitting itself hadn’t taken so much thought. She leaned back just far enough to take in her youngest daughter’s brilliant orange pelt. Not Orangekit—not when she’d be sharing her den with an Orangeheart someday—but… “Honeykit,” Thrushnose said, testing the sound, the feel of it. Again, a piece clicked into place. She pressed her nose between the tiny, still-folded ears. “You’ll be Honeykit.”

When Kestrelpaw had heard that Thrushnose was about to have her kits, a flurry of feelings and thoughts had crashed over him like a waterfall. He was ecstatic but at the same time overwhelmingly nervous. He prayed to the starry cats above to allow Thrush and her oncoming kits to make it through. To make sure it all went smoothly, he helped with all that he could without becoming a nuisance. Getting too much in the way would only hinder the medicine cat and that would certainly not be a help to his sister. He loved her very much and only wanted her and her kin to be safe. Taking care of their siblings to the best of their abilities is what good brothers did, after all.

The process didn't last long yet to Kerath, it had felt like an eternity. He was anxious the whole way through and only calmed down once he heard his niece's mewls and saw a glimpse of his sister tending to her kit from where he'd been outside the nursery. It had been a bit of a surprise to him that Thrush only had one kit but by no means was it a disappointment. The tiny she-kit was precious like her mother. The moment he laid eyes on the soft, orange pelt of his little niece, it was love at first sight. There was no doubt that she'll be cherished and spoiled by all her family and most likely the clan. As her uncle, it was his duty to do the same and by golly was he going to try his best to make her happy.

The tom snapped out of his daze and fully entered the nursery with quiet pawsteps, face clearly expressing his fondness and affection. "Mermurr. Dear sister," he began in a soft tone, "She's beautiful, just like you. What did you name her? She deserves something that's as sweet as she is."

Quaildock sat outside the nursery, nervous for his sister. Nervous that something would happen during the kitting, and his sister wouldn't make it. He definitely did not want to lose another sister.

Finally, after waiting for what seemed oh so long, they were allowed inside. He followed after Kerath, before looking over at Mermurr and her kit. A small little bundle of joy, curled up beside his sister. "Oh Mermurr, congrats." Daris purred. He was proud that his sister made through the kitting, and that she had a new little kit to take care of. And seeing how well she had raised Badgermask, she was definitely going to be a wonderful mother to the new little she-kit.

(ooc: I don't know what point in time this is anymore, but paradoxes be darned)

When Thrushnose had stumbled back into camp, already in the throes of kitting, he'd been a little worried for his daughter, to say the least. Worried. Yes, just worried. His tail flicked behind him as he paced, the movement pounding in his head to the beat of his paws, but even with the overwhelming encouragement to stay still, he couldn't quite manage it.

Somehow, he'd assumed that being a grandparent instead of a father would be easier. Unfortunately for him, he somehow hadn't mastered the wise, experienced, and completely unworried part that was supposed to come with that title. At least the anxiety roiling through his mind didn't seem to fade to the fog of forgetfulness that plagued him.

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

He glanced around as a slightly anxious voice spoke up, and caught sight of his other daughter, her tail wrapped around her as she stared at the nursery. Trying to smile, he slowed his restless pacing. "She'll be fine."

She looked at him like he'd announced he was going to fly out of the ravine. "Um, Dad... if she's going to be fine, then why're you pacing in circles?"

"Just making sure this groove stays visible. Don't pay any attention to me."

At least he wasn't alone in his nervousness. Kerath had leapt to help out as well as he could with his usual determined perseverance, while Minkstream was self-banished to wear his groove in the ground, knowing there was little if nothing that he could add to that help. Stars, we don't deserve that kit. Daris sat nearby, all of them doing their best to put up a brave front while Mermurr laboured inside. He kept an ear tuned, a change in the atmosphere catching his attention. It sounded close, now.

Taking a deep breath, he forcefully slowed his pawsteps, listening. A mewl, tiny and delicate. He stopped, waiting for a few moments for any other activity, but everything stilled, that exhausted quiet of a successful kitting seeping through the walls of the nursery. Kerath and Daris were the first to slip in, and after a moment he padded over, nosing his way into the dim interior and catching the murmurs of his sons. Eyes adjusting, he caught sight of the little bundle at his daughter's belly - a beautiful, fluffy orange kit. A smile spread over his maw, dopey and lopsided. "Stars, Murr...." He touched his nose to the top of his daughter's head, recognizing that tired but content look. "She's beautiful."

Memories flickered warmly - little squirming forms in the curve of Bat's black-furred belly, the scent of milk soft in the air. Had that really been that long ago? A vague ache lodged in his heart. Golden days, when things were... better. Swallowing against a small lump that inexplicably stuck in his throat and forcing the tinge of melancholy away, he glanced aside to see hesitant blue eyes peeking in the entrance. "Come on in, Liri. Say hello to your little niece."

---

Sablepaw hovered around the entrance, unwilling to break the moment until her father's voice beckoned, and she cautiously squeezed in as he stepped back to make room. Thrushnose looked so tired - should they crowd her like this? Her eyes drifted to the kit at her belly, and she cocked her head, a soft light coming into her gaze. "She's so ginger...."