#mylingkit

Shallowfig came to a halt, flicking his tail to tell his family to do the same. Ahead of them was a dead blackberry bush with leaves as dark as its namesake. It was only that, a bush, yet the gaps in the branches lifted the fur along Shallowfig’s spine. He stared at the dark dapples, and a face stared right back. Whether it was from a trick of the lighting, or his mind playing tricks on him–as it had been ever since Plague tried to kill Hootpetal and Banshee–he couldn’t tell.

“What is this place?” Tendril asked from behind him. Shallowfig just barely avoided jumping.

He  took a breath and a step back, moving his mind to wonder how long they would have to wait, but before he exhaled, Bella-May poked her head out from between the thin branches. “You’re here!” she exclaimed excitedly. “Come in, come in!”

Shallowfig stepped back, motioning for Banshee and the kits to go through the normal rotting bush, and then followed at the tail. He had not visited his older kins’ home before, though they had visited him as a kit, and he was curious to know what so many of his family had made their homes to be, if it reflected something in Shallowfig–some indication of their blood relation, somehow. Did they both enjoy hanging vines?

But before he could look around, he found himself suffocating on fur. Legs squeezed around his neck. He panicked, struggling for a few seconds before Bella-May pulled back, and he realized, almost laughing at himself, that it was only his great-great-grandmother embracing him.

“I heard what happened,” she mewed sorrowfully, licking his ears. “If I had been there, I would have ripped that she-dung’s tail off and stuffed it down her throat.”

Banshee flinched. Shallowfig touched his tail to her side to calm her. 

“I….I have a favour to ask,” Shallowfig began.

“Myrtle  told me,” Bella-May responded as he searched for the right words. “You lot can stay here for as long as you need, darling.”

Shallowfig let his shoulders sag, soothed by her kind voice. He looked over his shoulder, at his kits. Racemekit, Tendrilkit, Poppykit, Mylingkit, and their younger half-siblings, Glasskit and Pagruskit. Cold ice slithered down his spine, gripping his bones and veins and causing his body to shake and heart to fall. He had come so close to losing them. Never again will that happen.

“They need to be trained,” Shallowfig explained. 

“I’m not much of a mentor,” Bella-May replied. Shallowfig understood that, she had been a loner. “But I won’t turn down time with the little kitties.” She blinked warmly at the kits, emitting a soft chuckle when Poppykit squealed when Glasskit bit her tail. 

“They don’t need to train to hunt or the ways of Clan life,” Shallowfig told her. The daily routines of the Clans were foreign to him as well. “They need to know how to protect themselves. They need to know how to….deal with attackers and dangers.” He didn’t want to say it out loud, for the sake of the kits’ and his own ears. He couldn’t say that he wanted his kits to be trained to be killers to keep them from being another victim of Plague, that he was willing to let them grow to be monsters, risking the lives of anyone or everyone they may hurt, so that they couldn’t be.

Thankfully, understanding flashed in Bella-May’s eyes. She smiled widely. Shallowfig tried not to focus on her glinting fangs. “I thought kits didn’t train until six cycles.”

“The four are half a moon from that,” Banshee spoke up, gathering their wrestling kits around her. “The two are two.”

Bella-May tilted her head far to the side. “My question appears to stand.”

“It doesn’t need to be intensive or harsh,” Shallowfig went on. “Preferably, it isn’t, not…at least…not while they’re so young.” He knew that to give them the best chances of survival, training had to push them further than any other cats could bear. Just not yet. They could be kits for a while yet.

“Some pouncing and sneaking lessons should do,” Bella-May thought. “We can make them games.” She swept her tail slowly, enticingly around. Racemekit took the bait and waggled his hips before leaping  for the ginger-tipped tail. Bella-May flicked it out of the way in a flash, grabbing Racemekit with sheathed paws, just before he could land, and pressed him to the ground to make chewing noises against his belly. Racemekit kicked out, squealing and giggling.

Shallowfig allowed himself a few heartbeats to watch and enjoy the moment. Then Pagruskit’s yawn brought him back. They had to rest. “Are you sure it’s not trouble?” he checked. “We could stay somewhere else–”

“Absolutely not,” Bella-May responded firmly. “You ought to stay here where great-ma can keep an eye on you.”

“Is it not too much–”

“Hush,” Bella-May cut him off, blocking his mouth with a paw while Racemekit growled and bit on the other. “Before your droning puts the little ones to sleep.”

“How many know we were coming?” Banshee asked nervously. She had a tendency to anxiety when she was around those she didn’t know. Shallowfig would have stayed with her family, but that was exactly who they were hiding from.

“Everyone,” Bella-May answered cheerfully. “And they’re so excited to meet y’all! Now come along, come along, let us show the nests we made for ya.”

Banshee took the lead once again, the kits following in a ragged line behind her. Shallowfig looked behind him, through the gaps in the bush. He no longer saw the eyes, yet the fear in him remained the same. He was seeing, too far to really see, his old den where his kits were born, where Banshee became his mate, where his mother nearly died. He was seeing himself as a fun-loving kit without a care in the world, and he knew, knew as well as he knew that the fur on his pelt was pale golden, that he was likely taking away that for his own kits. 

He turned his head back and padded after his family. Ahead, Tendrilkit sneezed a high-pitched sound, and Glasskit opened her little jaws in a massive, pink yawn. Shallowfig’s eyes pricked. They were so precious now, so perfect and innocent. Whatever happened in the future, whether or not by Plague’s doing–Dark Stars hope not, sending the kits to train the way that they would be was going to change them forever. Shallowfig could only hope that he was making the right choice, and that it was worth it.

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@ambitiousauthor

Shallowfig: oh ha yeah well we obviously had to change it.

Hemlockpine: why did you name her Banshee anyway? I get it's after your lover-girl here, but why specificially Myling?

--Meanwhile--

Tendrilkit: *smacks Mylingkit on the head*

Mylingkit:

THE BABIES!!

@elementaldeityoffood

Colours they don't obviously get from Shallow, they got from their bio mom

--

Tendril: argumentative

Myling: LOUD

Racme: dignified

Poppy: high-strung

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(And to describe Poppy more, she's 'girly' in a deranged way. Ex. Poppy: gets clawed horribly. Poppy: omg guys look the blood matches my spots so well!! I should bleed more!!!)