#claykit

Don’t believe I’ve seen anyone acknowledge this kitten’s face yet

there's some lore behind that face

I love PetalMyrrh! My babies! Guess who had more KIIIITTTEEEEEEENNSSS! These cats have too many kits!!

First place contest winner goes to @tillythehyena

Morningflower, Otterkit, Claykit and Eaglekit

 Morningflower was old to have her first litter. Seven season-cycles old - and not even a single litter until now. On one paw she felt ashamed that she’d waited so long to give ShellClan their next generation of warriors, but on the other she felt much more equipped to raise tiny kittens.

    She’d been pacing the camp all day, feeling the pre-labor discomfort. Once in a while she’d get a false contraction and cringe in agony, but she didn’t let anyone know. Her only telltale sign was that she stopped for barely a moment and her long legs quivered. Then she’d continue on her way.     Night fell. Stars bloomed in the sky above as ShellClan tucked in for the night, and Morningflower remained up, grooming herself frantically. Someone asked if she was okay. “I’m fine,” she lied.     When she was certain it had started, she glanced at the medicine den. Noone had noticed her labor yet. The scent had yet to take effect - she still smelled like a pregnant, lactating queen. Only when the first kit started bullying its way into the world would anything be immediately noticable…     Her chest fluttered. Eelskip would be so helpful, she was sure, and Skunkbelly would probably learn from the experience of helping her labor, being so young. But some strange instinct made her legs shudder at the thought of approaching either one of them. Her gut twisted and her heart rammed in her chest so it drowned out the idle crickets and frogs. Finally she turned and skittered out of ShellClan’s camp, into the territory, her nerves on end even moreso than her fur was.     She eventually found a nice secluded spot close to a small stream, close in proximity to the salty waves. Exhausted and fearful of any cat finding her - even Mangledfoot - she collapsed under a tree and stretched out, her swollen belly already aching like it’d been kicked by a horse.     The moon was just barely above the treeline when she arrived at her hidden kitting place. It was high above her head when the first kit slipped into ShellClan; a molly, a beautiful chocolate tortoiseshell. Frantically Morningflower groomed the tiny kit to relative dryness before pressing the baby close to her muzzle. In her chest she felt a twinge of discomfort, but she pushed it away: another kit was coming. This one was a tom, a thin silver chocolate. Her breathing came deep and heavy, and her ears tilted back as she heard the sounds of rustling nearby. A squirrel shot up a tree and she breathed a gentle sigh of relief.      Finally her third kit arrived, and she could sense it was her last. This one came out a hundred times easier. Another tom, ridiculously tiny, a gorgeous rich chocolate colored kitten. Finally she flopped over, exhausted, and shut her eyes. When she opened them she could see the stars, and she let out a groan.     She slowly sat up and nuzzled her runt. He was suckling so hard it almost stung, while his brother was eating in a much more leisurely manner. Their sister wasn’t moving.     Morningflower’s breath caught in her chest. Her daughter hadn’t moved. At all. She hadn’t latched, nor nursed, not even cried. “No,” she whimpered, her tail lashing in panic. “No, no, no. Drink. Drink.” Her slender nose pushed under the molly’s head and pressed her against a teat. She was cold. It made Morningflower nauseous.      So much so, in fact, that the tortoiseshell stood up rather suddenly and paced away, breathing hard from the bottom of her chest - the closest a cat could get to crying hysterically. Her paws sweat and shook, and for a moment she was terrified to return to her babies. She let out a few muted yowls of agony, desperately hoping even these wordless sounds would bring some reaction from her daughter. Nothing.     She sat a few taillengths away from her litter and stared. She breathed long and hard. Finally, when she was relaxed, she stepped forward and carefully took the stillborn in her jaws. Slowly she took it a little ways into the woods and scratched up a little hole, then buried the tiny kit there. She decided against marking it.     She padded to her two remaining sons and curled tightly around them, nuzzling both of them in turn. “Claykit was a good sister,” she said quietly, the name popping in her head quite spontaneously. “I know she lived long enough to grow. I’m sure you two loved her very much, even if you don’t remember her later.” The ShellClan queen shut her eyes and allowed herself to sink into motherly bliss, pushing the death of her kit away to enjoy the presence of her sons. Finally she opened her warm green eyes and looked at her kits. She nosed the larger one. “Eaglekit,” she hummed. She looked upon her runt and nothing came to her. She had time before she had to return to the Clan; she could think up a name, couldn’t she? She’d wait until the warmth of morning to take them back… that would buy them enough time to remember her scent.

***

    Morningflower trudged into camp with her son in her jaws. Her paws quivered and her eyes drooped. The Clan was just barely waking, stretching and mewing among themselves. She let out a long sigh, her legs feeling weak and almost jellylike. 

    Eelskip padded up to her with a look in his eyes. The way her tired gaze met his said everything. 

I don’t want to talk about it.

 So the rather unusual pale tortoiseshell tom padded up to her and only asked, “What’s his name?”

    Morningflower hesitated only for a second to allow her tired mind to remember. “His name is Otterkit,” she mumbled. “I’m hoping to bless him with Otterflower’s strength.”