Back to the nest [OPEN]

A solitary calico pelt trotted across the moor. Her eyes were squinted against the cutting wind, her paws heavy, the wound on her throat still red and irritated. Old scars had faded, new ones gained, but it was still the same cat who’d had challenged her brother to a race moons ago. At least, so Hentooth hoped.

She could’ve gone faster, much faster, if she’d been alone. Yet she shoveled through the drifts, trotting down a path for the small paws that followed after her and shielding them from the wind. They were only a few moons old, shouldn’t be out in this weather, too young to be apprentices. But she’d waited as long as she could in the old fox den. It was getting harder and harder to hunt, to find food in the horrible weather, and it was torture each time she had to leave them to hunt.

Where were the patrols? Inwardly she groaned, outwardly she kept a straight face, breaking the ice only for a few words of encouragement for the kits. They were tired. She was tired. She’d taken turns carrying them each by the scruff, but it was cold for them and tiring for her, and they were almost there. Almost home. Though she’d never seen the territory buried in snow as it was now, something told her they were almost there. Almost home. What horrible semblance of luck was this- how had they missed the patrols-

Finally, finally, finally, the ground sloped beneath her paws, and she half-stumbled down the slope into- camp. Home. “Timber! Daystar Goldenfang Swiftspirit someone!” She collapsed onto her haunches, a crooked grin snaking its way onto her face. She curled her tail gently around the kits- her kits- and rasped them over the ears. ”We did it, little ‘uns. We’re home.”

This day might fade to foggy memory in their minds, only a recollection of real food and warmth for the first time, but it would always remain in hers. How she’d made her way home. With kits.

She would have some explaining to do- but for now she swayed slightly on her paws. Home.

Scorchkit stumbled blearily down the slope, opening his jaws in an enormous yawn. With every step he took on the snow-covered ground, he felt like his paws were going to freeze off, and with a glance at his littermates, he could tell they were just as cold as him. His normally infinite supply of energy had been sapped, fatigue from the journey threatening to overwhelm him.

Couldn't they rest, just for a moment? He wondered, though when he opened his mouth to ask all that came out was a pitiful yawn. The endless walk had left him too tired to speak.

He stumbled as they reach the bottom, overwhelmed by the sudden scent of several strange cats. Looking toward his mother worriedly, he noticed that she had plopped down in the snow with a relieved look, moments before he heard her exclamation. He tried to summon the same relief she felt, but all that appeared was a slight twinge of fear. His senses were overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sights and smells. He shivered, pressing closer to the warmth of his brothers.

Timbersun's always thought about his sister at night. Hearing that she fell into the gorge when trying to save an elder, it was heartbreaking. The clan assumed his sister was dead, he thought so too. The gorge, so deep, so ruthless. It had taken too many lives, why did they fight for such a dangerous part of the territory? Hentooth had fought for it too, only for it to pull her into the watery depths. He pulled himself out of the warriors den, maybe he should do some hunting for a bit, this leafbare was far too harsh to sit in camp all day.

Glancing at the fresh-kill pile, there was probably only a few not frozen hares and rabbits, the dead mice had frost on their limp whiskers. He moved some of the prey with his paw. Maybe he could- huh? A thud nearby made him jump, multiple thumps, pawsteps. Cats? Were patrols coming back all ready? An unfamiliar scent hit his nose and he spun to face the entrance.

He thought he was dreaming, but, looking down at the kits near her paws, he didn't think he could dream up something as wild as that. "Hen?" His eyes widened. Hentooth had gained a few scars, as expected, but she was there, she was really there, she was home. "Hentooth!" He let out a happy, excited yowl and ran over, headbutting his sister gently with a purr. "You're home, you're alive!" He pulled back, looking her up and down. He didn't bother questioning her about the kits. She was safe. "We thought you were dead..." He felt tears forming at his eyes as he tilted his head slightly. "I... I can't believe you're back, I missed you, we all did." He didn't exactly think much about how he appeared to her, he hadn't thought about his missing ear for awhile. Even if the wind bothered it, he didn't need to think about it.

The orange kitten was just as exhausted as his siblings, but he tried to keep his head cooled down. He had to be a big cat and be strong for mom. After all, she had gone through, taking care of them in the snowy plains alone, the least he could do was to follow and be responsible.

However, the walking was over. Fawnkit's eyes widened when they finally entered the camp. All this time walking... it was worth it. This was so much bigger than their previous home... and filled with so many new faces. The tom kit sat down, catching his breath as he looked around amazed. His orange eyes turned to Hentooth, who embraced them kindly. Fawnkit curled his tail around Scorchkit's and purred. "I like it." He mewed softly, too weak to really say anything else. Finally, the stress and fatigue of the trip was taking over him and he felt sleepy.

All this walking had caused little balls of snow to clump around Woollykit's legs. He shivered in the cold, pressing his fuzzy frame close to his brothers' as they padded toward camp. Perhaps they could warm each other... Hentooth had told them about the little dip in the moor, the gorse and the heather. But in the snow, all Woollykit saw was dead plants and brown bushes. Not that he wasn't appreciative! He loved seeing the top of each hill, observing what lay in the dip of the next one. A small gasp would escape his maw each time, breath billowing into a small cloud. And when they finally came upon camp, Woollykit laughed, filled with renewed energy in his little body.

The tabby tom ran from his family's side to the brown bushes and flowerless gorse. When he came to a gap in the foliage, he stopped, panting, until Hentooth was at his side once more. This, by far, was the most exciting thing the hills had to offer. He was sure of it. A new cat approached them as they ducked into camp. He seemed to know Woollykit's mother and was excited to see her again. Woollykit knew little of his mother's life before birth, but was very glad she had friends. Perhaps Woollykit could make friends too! Fawnkit spoke which turned Woollykit's attention, his brown eyes settled on his brother's, filled with excitement. "I like it too, Fawnkit!" He purred, rubbing his thick coat against his kin.

Foxdung, but this cold was ridiculous. Swiftspirit had thought, in leaf-fall, that she'd liked the colder weather. The crisp air had been so pleasant... And she'd been so, very, utterly wrong. The nights had grown longer, the snows grew deeper, the temperatures, the wind... She'd recovered from her cough, only for the cold to sting at her nose and paws even in camp when she was curled in her nest. And with how scarce prey had become, as well as Daisypaw's training to keep up with, Swiftspirit was reluctant to stay in her nest all day, even though there were times when the idea was more than a little tempting.

She lifted her head at the sound of her mate's voice, shivering as she uncurled herself and stood. Something was up, evidently, and turning in the direction of the camp entrance, Swiftspirit nearly tripped over her own paws.

"Hentooth...?" Swiftspirit stared in shock, the presence of the medicine cat and her friend taking a moment to truly register. She leapt to her paws, bounding towards her with a grin.

"Hentooth! Where have you been? We were all so worried about you! Are you alright?" She mewed, a rough purr rumbling in her chest as she briefly pressed against the calico she-cat. A pair of unfamiliar voices broke into her fussing over her returned clanmate, and Swiftspirit turned, pale gaze settling curiously on the forms of the kits that had trailed in behind Hentooth, slightly guarded but lacking true hostility, and softening upon realizing the state the kits were in. "And who are you two? Stars, you kits look exhausted! Hentooth, we should probably get them into the nursery and out of the cold, yeah?" Fawnkit...? Had she found the kits somewhere and brought them here? And given them clan names? Their origin, she thought, was hardly concerning at the moment. Especially with how foxing cold it was.

Mistypaw had been out of the medicine den for a while, having started back on her duties. She had just gotten back from a hunting patrol (not like she was able to catch anything in this weather) when she saw the Clan gathering around a cat with kits. Were they taking in new members? She supposed it made sense, she had kits after all, Daystar wouldn't turn her away, would she?

Of course, getting a closer look, she soon found that she recognized the molly. Couldn't say she was very pleased, either. "Hentooth? How are you alive, we thought you had done fell in the gorge. Berrypaw has been working his tail off as a medicine cat since his mentor up and vanished. And you picked up some kits too? No offense to the kits, they're cute and all, but who is going to take care of them? You're a medicine cat, you can't have kits, and we don't have any queens."

All very valid points in her mind, but then again, she was not one of the ones absolutely thrilled about her coming back. Maybe she was looking for reasons to send her back out. She just gave the medicine cat a flat stare, waiting for an answer.

Despite how tired Fawnkit was, he felt happy and welcomed by all these cats who seemed to know their mom and care deeply for her. This really was Hentooth's home... and now, it was his and his sibling's home. He purred with Wollykit, enjoying the warmth of his family and the welcoming environment that surrounded them.

However, that peace was suddenly interrupted when a younger cat appeared, almost looking displeased at Hentooth's presence. Fawnkit frowned as the she-cat spoke. Who did she think she was? Annoyed, the tom kit stood up quickly, his fur raised up in anger. With his paws trembling he walked decisively in front of Hentooth, standing between his family and Mistypaw. With a hissing voice, he spoke "Mom has been taking care of us since we were born! Why can't she keep doing that here? We don't need another mom or one of your "queens" or whatever. I won't let you separate us from her!" He unsheathed his small claws, ready to scratch this stranger if she decided to interfere between Hentooth and her kits.

The drum of carefree pawsteps bounding across the packed snow were the first hints of someone else about to join the gathering. Flamepaw darted across the white world above camp as if the rabbits were chasing him and not the other way around - not that he'd found many to chase, anyway. The lack of prey to slow down his headlong rush was a testament to that.

Barreling forwards, he leapt at the incline that led down into camp, locking his limbs and letting his paws kick up disturbed white and slush as he skidded expertly down, ducking leaf-bare brittle heather and gorse on the way. A shake of his pelt flung off stray flakes that had caught in his wild fur, blue eyes sparking with adrenaline as he popped through into the camp proper at a trot, some cats and kits chattering idly catching his ear-

And he almost ran into them as his paws stuttered past when they had been meant to stop, a familiar pelt making his eyes widen. "Wha- Hentooth?!" Almost immediately, the shock gave way to a genuine grin, his ears pricking and whiskers stiffening forwards. "You're back!" Hah! He'd known she'd come back!

Oh wait, he was grinning like an idiot. In front of someone he wasn't supposed to like or admit he'd kind of missed. Which he hadn't.

Still, the stupid smile refused to be banished from his face, so he groaned dramatically and lifted his eyes to Silverpelt. "Aw dung, this means I'm gonna have to eat herbs when I so much as sneeze, and you're going to tell me to keep my toes warm, doesn't it?"

He only managed to keep up the grumpy facade for an instant before curiosity replaced it, his eyes darting over her scarred pelt and flicking down to the little balls of fluff. "Hey, you found kits too. Neat scars - did you fight off an entire pack of rogues down in the gorge? What was it like getting swept away, anyway?" He barely paused in his rapid-fire questioning to crouch down and look at the kits, nearly bopping a grey and ginger one (Woollykit) with his own orange nose. "And who are you?"

Ooc: hhhh late late late I’m so sorry

Hentooth’s ears were perked, straining to hear. The camp seemed so empty and lifeless… and then it wasn’t.

“Timber!” Her voice cracked, momentarily as she called out his name, pushing her head into his side. For a moment, that was all that mattered- the warmth of her brother, something she’d scarcely hoped to ever feel again. Her eyes started to tear up a little (just a little) but not enough to make her miss his missing ear- her sparkling eyes narrowed, for a moment, but she could ask later.

Fawnkit’s voice reached her ears, faintly, and with all the instinct of a mother hen, her attention instantly turned to her kit. “I’m glad you do, dear,” she purred. “Both of you.”

Swiftspirit’s voice, and Hentooth’s tired face perked up. “It’s a long story. Yes, ‘kits, we need to get them out of the cold- we’ve been lucky enough to avoid sickness so far-“ she hoped, the heaviness lingering in her chest couldn’t be good. Her ears turned back, slightly, as an all-too-familiar pelt approached, with some rather welcome changes.

“I did fall, ‘paw, but I made it. You can go thank StarClan for it now,” she added dryly. Of course, Mistypaw would be the one to ask. Before she could respond, Fawnkit spoke. She watched him with, perhaps, a bit of pride blossoming in her chest. He wasn’t about to roll over. Just like his father.

“It’s alright, Fawnkit,” she purred. “No one’s about to take you away.” The glare she sent Mistypaw said, quite clearly, that she’d like to see anyone try. She’d told her kits, just a little, about how other cats might be mean, because reasons Mom would tell them when they got older.

Flamepaw? Her grin was just as instant and irrepressible as his. “Gotta make up for all the herbs you’ve missed while I’ve been gone, eh?” She turned to face everyone, tail curling protectively around her kits. She’d better get this settled.

“I’ll say this now and get it over with. They’re my kits, my blood and kin, and if I hear anyone-“ this said with a glare furious enough to melt snow at Mistypaw- “Being mean to them because of what they couldn’t control, I’ll skin you alive and kick you into SkyClan, where you belong.”

Another glare shot at Mistypaw (one that said quite clearly that Hentooth knew many insults pertaining to the newly missing member), a heavy cough that made her nervous, and she sat down, curling her tail around her kits once more.