The Hope We Bring (closed)

Downtuft had been by her side when it happened. One moment, Sagewillow was by his side, the sweet calico purring as she leaned into his shoulder, and the next she was yowling in pain. Downtuft was on his paws instantly, alarm prickling his pelt. "I'll- I'll get Hentooth!" He gasped, as Sagewillow's claws sank into the ground, hissing a "Hurry up!" under her breath. Downtuft burst into the medicine den, eyes wide, panting. "Sage- kits- hurry..!" He called, breathless.

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During the kitting, Downtuft had paced restlessly outside the nursery. One apprentice suggested he sit down, and he'd practically bit their ear off. Finally, he saw Hentooth pad out, and he sighed in relief when he saw that she didn't look upset or angry. "Thank you, Hentooth. I- great Finchstar, thank you!" The tom mewed, voice soft. Padding into the nursery, he saw eight precious little bundles by her side. "Oh, Sagewillow.." Downtuft mewed, love in his tone, tearing up. "They're precious."

Sagewillow looked up at him with tired, loving eyes. "We'll take turns, love. You can name this one. She looks like Softbreeze, doesn't she?" The queen murmured, gently nuzzling the pale bundle. She was the first born. "She.. Does. In that case... Breezekit. May your heart sing as loudly as Softbreeze and Finchstar's did." He whispered, touching his nose to the little she-kit. I love you, Softy.

Sagewillow peered down at her second born, a handsome little tom tortoiseshell tom, with thoughtful eyes, before deciding on a name. "Dreamkit suits him. For my dream, the one you made come true. May all your dreams come true, my dear." Sagewillow murmured, touching her nose to the much smaller one of Dreamkit. Leaning down towards the third born, another tortoiseshell tom, with patterns so very different from the other, Downtuft grinned. "Berrykit. May you be as sweet and plentiful as a berry bush itself," the tom mewed, touching his nose to the newborn kit's flank.

"Orangekit," Sagewillow mewed, eyes softening as she stared at the newly named tortoiseshell she-kit, with orange flecks near identical to Berrykit, "For all those wonderful threads of orange throughout your pelt. May you stand out, even amongst your siblings, and never change for anyone." The kit's mother whispered, touching her nose to the fourth born kit's ear. At the sight of the next kit, Downtuft choked back a cry. An adorable cream colored kit wiggled in front of him. "Softkit," He whispered, eyes never leaving the eyes of his fifth born child. "Softkit," He repeated, voice full of emotion. "May you soar high on wings of love, and may you never know nor feel the suffering that Softbreeze felt."

Downtuft touched his nose to her head, but paused and whispered, "May Softbreeze herself guide your paws," before raising his head again. Sagewillow met his gaze, her own eyes shiny with tears. "I know she will. She would've loved them as much as she'd loved you." There was silence for a moment, as both adult cats gazed fondly at each other, reminiscing on Softbreeze's memory.

A high pitched squeal from a silver kit, strands of cream interwoven in her fur, caused Sagewillow to laugh. "It seems she doesn't want to wait!" She purred, looking down lovingly towards the sixth born kit. "She resembles Dappleshine," He mewed, and Sagewillow nodded, purring, "And Graybriar and Clovertwist!" Licking her head, Sagewillow murmured the name of the sixth kit of the litter. "Whisperingkit. May the little voice that guides you guide your paws thoughtfully, and may it always ring the loudest." Touching her nose to the top of her head, she looked at Downtuft, blinking lovingly.

"This one is Flamekit," He mewed, glancing down at the ginger tom, one who looked strikingly like him. The youngest tom of the litter, the seventh born. "May you be a flame of hope and light for others, and be passionate in all you do, like a roaring flame." Downtuft touched his orangey colored nose to Flamekit's head, chuckling when the little spitfire of a kit squirmed away. "He's gonna be trouble. Maybe I should've hoped for his inner flame to be a controlled blaze," He joked, and his mate purred.

"This last one.. She looks like Mistystripe." Sagewillow mused, touching her nose to the she-kit's flank. "Mistykit. May you always have clear sight, even through troubled, misty times." She whispered to the eighth and final kit of the litter. Mistykit was smaller than her siblings, but Sagewillow had a feeling she'd make up for it tenfold with personality. "They're beautiful," Downtuft purred, content as he sat, staring down with loving green eyes at the diverse selection of kits suckling at Sagewillow's belly. "They are, aren't they?"

Hentooth’s ears pricked as Downtuft came yowling into her den. The calico leapt to her paws, banging her head on the rock. “Got it, got it, move so I can get!” Oh deer…  raspberry leaves… not poppy… she quickly grabbed a few herbs and the worn stick that leaned against the den’s walls. This would be her first time assisting a birth… Smallbean hadn’t taught her much about it, but Flarehawk had filled up what she lacked. This would go well. There was no reason to think otherwise. Somehow, it felt like she was trying to convince herself as she ran to the nursery.


It had been long, yes, but not terribly hard. By some miracle of StarClan, all eight kits were healthy and hearty. One was a bit smaller than the others, but from how she kicked, Hentooth doubted she’d have any trouble. Well, they might have trouble with her, but that was beside the point. She trotted out to tell Downtuft the good news, carrying the worn stick, but he pressed past her before she had a chance to speak. “I didn’t tell you you could come in,” she called softly after him, doubting he heard. With a sigh, she laid down the stick and poked her head in, just in case.


Hentooth didn’t remember her own birth, of course, but she’d heard from cats she trusted that… Tawnyflare had shown her colors quickly. Sagewillow and Downtuft would be good parents, she was sure. Eight kits was a lot, but she had no doubt they’d give each and every one the attention they needed… maybe a bit too much, by her standards. “Congratulations to all involved. You’re lucky as a magpie, I’m sure. Erm… good names, by the way. Uh… yeah.” She didn’t really know what to say around kits… “If you need me, you know where I am.” The young medicine cat muttered softly, withdrawing. She probably shouldn’t be around the kits too much… Tawnyflare’s blood did flow in her, after all… but she had a feeling she’d be seeing those balls of fluff more often than not.


Okay, they were cute.


With that fact admitted to herself, the tired medicine cat withdrew to her den. Adorable little fluffballs…

Orangekit was already squirming around, trying to find her mother. In her tiny frenzy, it bumped into it's twin, Berrykit, and then went limp. She was oddly fluffy, compared to her twin, a tiny ball of black-and-orange fur.

It was odd, being born. You couldn't see or hear for a while. Orangekit didn't know anything, besides the very instincts. And then she calmed down, after a while. Orangekit was completely healthy, just a loud and rambunctious bundle of fluff.

A slightly annoying, but lovable bundle of fluff.

Among the swarm of kits lied a tiny she-cat, the smallest of them all. And it seemed her littermates took advantage of that, climbing over her. The silver tabby let out cries of outrage as she fought against the mass, trying to pick her way to a spot. She was small, but she was already a fighter. Kicking at the cats near her, she stubbornly refused to be beaten. She would get that milk.

And get that milk she did. Once the dust had settled, and all had calmed down, Mistykit found herself at the belly of her mother. She could not say how she got there, whether she had truly won her fight, or if she had been aided by one of the larger cats. Her memory was not yet developed, and by the time she finished feeding, she would forget there ever was a struggle in the first place. But for now, she would bask in the knowledge that she had overcome the obstacle. For now, she was unstoppable.

Mistykit raised her head to the sky, and let out a victory squeal, before going back to feeding.

Berrykit was nothing like his sibling nearly identical to him, Orangekit. Personality-wise that is. He was barely moving, because he was quite the lazy one, that even a slight worry of being stillborn existed for not long. Berrykit had rolled over a few times, until he got hit by a fuzzy slap.

This alerted the small little fuzz ball, flinching in a panic. Soon getting kicked in the muzzle by one of the smaller kits, his eyes slightly peered open. Berrykits instincts kicked in, angrily crawling his way over to his mother to have some of the delicious milk.

Berrykit wasn't much of a fighter, barely doing any damage to his siblings, but still making enough room so he could squeeze by. Of course, he eventually made it to the glorious milk straight from his loving mother. Berrykit wasn't hogging it to much, getting kicked back very once in awhile by his seven other siblings, but he was happy with his amount.

Flamekit was blind, deaf, and about as aware as a slug, but somehow, somehow he knew when a struggle was up, his little body squirming and mewling an ear-piercing squeak as wriggling fluff kicked against him and he kicked back. So many sensations, despite him not possessing the more interesting ones yet - some sibling barging in, drawn to a sweet scent that cloyed his nostrils, something big and... and vast touching him from above, an odd wind stirring his fur to an odder vibration. He flipped away from that, too, jabbing out with little spitfire paws and bulldozing into the mass for the greater warmth.

Far from being intimidated by all the competition, he seemed to thrive on it, headbutting and shoving without qualm until his instincts discovered the source of all life and nourishment. Even then, clumsy forepaws kneading, he still somehow managed to shove against the others, cries stifled by the teat in his jaws.

This world was new, and he was going to make something of it.

Softkit laid curled in her mother's soft fur, as other bundles of fur squrimed beside her. Softkit was clueless, right then and there. But one day, she might become the most knowlegable cat in the forest. Well that was probably what her parents wanted. Right now though, she was content on staying warm and well fed, and also quickly avoiding her siblings from toppling on top of here. Just because she was small didn't mean she'd be pushed around so easily.

Dreamkit mewled in confusion, feeling the constant battling and nudges of his littermates for their mother's milk. As he felt the everlasting warmth coming from his mother, he pushed his way through the fur bundles, lying down somewhat nearer Sagewillow's fluffy fur.

He then quickly realized he had reached close enough to get some of that alluring and oddly sweet scent, although it wasn't so long-lasting enough until he had to push himself up again to maintain his spot, still tasting the fascinating scent of milk for the first time. Fortunately for him, he didn't get pushed over much by them. Once he felt full, Dreamkit lie down, content and relaxed. He still had lots of his littermates' fluffy paws to avoid from, of course. He shifted again; though this time, he inched towards their mother's chest fur to finally get some proper rest, distancing himself from the others.