Among These Fallen Petals [c]

Gender: Female
Rank: T3 Warrior

Tucked away beneath a gorse wall, Nectarflower runs her tongue gently over the delicate bodies of her kits. In the days leading up to her kitting, she had dug a shallow dip in the ground and lined it with soft moss and heather. The nearby gorse wall provided protection from the wind and there she lay, snuggled safely between the gorse wall and the low-hanging branches of a hawthorn tree. She had gathered some nearby flowers just a day prior and scattered their petals around her nest to brighten the place up. These petals ranged anywhere from white to yellow to pink, but there wasn't a single red petal within eyesight.

Purring, Nectarflower pulled the litter close to her belly and nuzzled each kit in turn, her pale green eyes shining with love. Though her heart ached for all she had lost, the tortoiseshell warrior was eased by the four tiny bundles at her side. She wished that Weaselfoot could be here to see their beautiful kits, but he was undoubtedly watching them from Starclan. Her birth had, thankfully, been much easier than Ferntwist's, who had eventually died after her own kitting.

Weaselfoot, Ferntwist, Rosepaw...it seemed as though every cat she grew close to was destined to die. Not Sootstorm, though. Her former mentor was as strong as ever and she knew that he would remain by her side for many seasons to come. These kits too would not know fear or pain like she did - not if she could help it. She would raise them well and they would know love, safety, and warmth. They would become apprentices in six moons and, eventually grow into fine warriors.

It was easy to want to give up, but she couldn't - not with these precious lives to take care of and nurture. Quickpaw, her apprentice, still needed her. She was growing closer with her clanmates with every day and, hopefully, life would begin to feel normal. She would always miss the cats she had lost, but there was more to life than death. There was also the joy of new kits and the feeling of the wind in her fur. The smell of flowers and moor and the comfort of those who were still here.

Nectarflower curled her body protectively around the four tiny she-kits. Little Finchkit, who looked so like her father. Mosskit, a sweet-looking tortoiseshell she-kit. Eveningkit, who looked most similar to herself. And lastly, Weaselkit, a small, mostly black kit that she had decided to name in honor of Weaselfoot. They were perfect - perhaps the most wonderful kits she had ever seen.

Gender: Female
Rank: T3 Warrior

Nectarflower lifted her gaze from the small bundles curled against her belly, pale green eyes wide with surprise at the sight of Kestrelchirp approaching them. Her attention then fell to the flower in his jaws and her expression softened. Was that for her? She remained silent, though, both tired from the kitting and wanting to let the tom say what he had come here to say. He stood there for a moment and Nectarflower offered him a gentle smile. It was sweet of him to check on them.

She glanced down at her kits, her heart near to bursting, and nodded. "Thank you, Kestrelchrip. They really are perfect." Humming, she extended a paw and gently scooped the flower into her nest, lodging it between some soft stalks of heather. "And thank you, for the gift I mean." The tortoiseshell she-cat lifted her head to look at the tom once more, her mouth slightly parted as she searched for something else to say. They didn't really know each other all that well...

Thankfully, Sootstorm saved her from any potential awkwardness, and she silently thanked him for arriving. "Hi Sootstorm! And yes." She meowed warmly, and gesturing to each kit in turn, "This one is Mosskit. Little Eveningkit is the she-kit that looks like me, and Weaselkit is this cutie." Oh, but where was Finchkit?

Nectarflower turned, huffing softly at the sight of Finchkit squirming away from her. "And this adventurous one is Finchkit." The Weaselfoot look-alike wailed and Nectarflower's heart lurched before she quickly reached out and pulled Finchkit back into the nest, swiping her tongue lovingly over the ruffled patches of fur. "Silly kit." She purred. Finchkit was going to be a pawful, she was sure.