The Last of Us [closed]

The pregnancy came so fast after that moment in the woods, where Vinecrawler had given her a robin's feather. In turn, she had given him one as well, including a beautiful stone she found along the creek bed when she told him of the medicine cat's suspicions of her swelling stomach.

It had been difficult for Quailprowler. To step back from her warrior duties, guarding Acornstar and the clan day and night. Her large form had accommodated the kits well, but it still ached in ways she hadn't known before.

She was speaking quietly with Vinecrawler when the pains came, and her mate quickly called upon the responsible personnel and rushed her to the nursery, weaker kits than hers would be cowering against the woven walls to give her space. It was a difficult birth and her brain went foggy until it was over, protecting her from the horror of being weak.

Now, the kits laid at her stomach with her mate standing over them. They were so beautiful, and they would be so strong. She had already named two of the kits: Adderkit and Bearkit. Strong, ferocious names for her little warriors. The names would have kept rattling off her tongue if she hadn't glimpsed the pale coat of her mate and she paused. Looking at these beautiful kits, Quailprolwer wasn't sure if the tingling she felt was love for him or the kits, but either way, he was their father and deserved an input on names… Hopefully they reflected their parents.

"Do you have any names you want?" She whispered quietly as to not stir the newborns.

Feral Tongue
Forest Tongue

Silent awe overcame the feral blooded ThunderClan warrior as his abnormally soft gaze swept across the mewling newborns. Not just any newborns. His. He was a dad. A father. There was not even a subtle hint of anxiety within him over it; he would be an amazing father and Quailprowler an amazing mother. Together, these kits would grow up to be strong enough to carry this miserably small forest on their backs if they so choose. And he would be at their sides, fending off danger at every twist and turn. He gave a comforting lick to his mates head as she turned it to look up at him, the names of two of their kits already solidified. Adderkit held a stripped pattern not unlike a true adder, and Bearkit held his sandy pelt just like his own. Both would be strong like him. Their names were fitting.

The love in his eyes and purr deep in his chest didn't fade even as he looked to Quailprowler. Some of that love was for her, after all; these kits would not be here without her. "Yes. I do." Gently, his large sandy body crouched as low as he could manage so he could get a better look.

His eyes immediately fell upon the black spotted coat of one of his four daughters that stood in stark contrast to the others. "Blackkit." To him, she looked like the scorched earth after a blazing fire. There was no doubt she would grow to be as impressive as the blackest of smoke that was left in the wake of Monsters.

If it was possible for the purring to grow any louder, it certainly would have as his brown eyes fell upon his third daughter who looked just like him. Oh, this one would surely grow to be a force to be reckoned with, just as he saw himself. Recalling the hardened surface of the shells that lined the shores of the lake he had adored during the grand plague, he knew immediately what name would suit her the best. "Shellkit."

Before he was even done naming Shellkit, one of his sons suddenly launched himself backwards, prompting lightning quick reflexes from the new father as he caught his son with a large sandy paw, pushing him back towards his mothers stomach. He reminded Vinecrawler of his brother, Wiggleworm: the tom never once stood still in their younger years, prompting Hank to give him the name of wiggle. As a legacy to his father - wherever he may be - Vinecrawler confidently meowed out: "Sillykit." Quailprowler's eyes seemed to narrow slightly at this choice, which confused him greatly. Did she not... Like it? He thought it captured his own brothers strength. Wiggleworm had survived hardship after hardship; Sillykit would surely hold that same amount of vigor. They all shared the same blood after all.

Now for the final daughter. Her pelt was more vibrant than her siblings, standing out just as much as Blackkit did. It reminded him of the soil along the lake, the lush red and orange it held. Though without knowing what it was called, he could only really think of something close to it. Judging by the increasing wariness in Quailprowler's gaze, he doubted she would take too kindly to naming their child 'Dirtkit*'. His brow scrunched deep in thought, tail idly swishing behind him as every ounce of thought bounced off each other uselessly. He was growing a little nervous as his mates tail lashed out impatiently at the corner of his vision. He had to say something. "Mousekit." That wasn't so bad, right? Mice were clever and quick. There was no doubt in his mind that any cat who shared his blood wouldn't be as talented as even the smallest of creatures.

His smile, however, dropped slightly as he his excited gaze was not met with the same energy. "Do you not like it?"


*note: Dirtkit is not actually a valid name

Quailprowler had every intention to name these kits the strongest, fiercest names possible. But they weren't only her kits. Blackkit was very fitting, and she understood his choice. Shellkit, well, at least Shellkit meant a strong exterior. However, she almost had a heart attack when Vinecrawler named a more wiggly kit Sillykit... She could not ever utter that name out of her mouth. Silently, she lashed her tail and made the decision to name it Goose in her head. She was a mother and could refer to her child however she wished. But her patience, short due to the pain of birthing, snapped at Mousekit. A week, miserable name. Taking in a deep breath to calm herself before speaking, aware of the delicate balance they were on, Quailrpwler shifted and motioned to the final kit with her tail. She'd have to compromise, but maybe she could save a kit from a name like Mouskit. "How about," she spoke softly in the feral tongue "Lakekit in honor of our journey and where we first fought together." She looked up at the father of her kits, almost pleading him.

The last-named kit began to make himself comfortable, stretching large paws outwards and pushing away his littermates as he did so. His stomach was full, and he was warm and content. Lakekit opened his tiny pink mouth for a deep yawn. Then, bringing himself as up close to Quailprowler as he could, Lakekit fell asleep, relishing in the warmth of his family.

The first of their Father named kits, had move slightly, trying to find the warmth of her mother only to take a small paw to the face as Lakekit accidentally pushed her away. In response to the unknown experience the black spotted she-cat let out a small hiss, that sounded more like a quick huff than a hiss. Once the strange experienced passed, Blackkit curled next to her mother, and partially on top of Lakekit, and fell asleep.

Eyes and ears still sealed to the world, Bearkit could only sense the warm, wriggling bodies of her siblings. She grumbled contentedly, sounding to all the world like a bear cub herself, as she pushed back against them and nosed her way closer to her mother. The thundering of Quailprowler's heart surrounded her. Rolling onto her back with great effort, the second-named kit stretched her paws to the sky, falling happily into a deep sleep.

Shellkit, the spitting image of her father, reacted as if she could hear his thoughts. She mimicked the roar her brother, Sillykit had emitted, squealing loudly as she fought past her sleeping siblings to be closer to their mother's belly. Paws scrabbled against cotton-soft kit fur, and grunts of effort left her. She was quickly quieted when she found her place, however, angry mewls melting into contented purrs. She was warm and being fed; life couldn't get any better than that, even if Adderkit's weight was bearing down upon her.