We’ll Love Her (short story)
“I don’t understand,” Emberdawn held back a sob as she held little Fressiakit between her paws. They knew that Dark Kits, as many were beginning to call them, would need more care than all living kits put together, and neither mother nor father left their side in the den that had been added next to Ivyspots’ and Scaleears, separated for privacy between families. Theirs was still in the works, and was for now covered mostly in leaves than dirt.
Lightkit, Molekit, Ashkit, and Frostkit stayed with them, excited to have new sisters and a brother, perhaps too young to understand the danger. It was them that suggested the names. Lightkit named Doekit, after hearing Gorseheart’s story of his mother, Doesong. Frostkit named Jaykit, after Emberdawn’s father, Ashkit had named Proteakit after the colour of the flower, which sort of matched her pelt if you squinted, and Molekit named Fressiakit after the plant, which suited her more than he might think.
Fressiakit…. Were they doing something wrong? They kept them warm but not hot, fed them as much as they could, showered them with attention.
Her littermates were doing well, all things considered, but for some reason Fressiakit wasn’t growing like they were. Where their skin flattened out their wrinkles, hers seemed as rubbery and creased as ever. Where their fur glossened, hers stuck in sticky, sweaty clumps in spite of the countless groomings they gave her
Ivyspots and Scaleears checked in on her from time to time, as did former medicine cats, but all were at a loss.
“We’ll just keep loving her,” Gorseheart suggested hopelessly, not for the first time. Emberdawn nudged her to her belly, coaxing her to drink, but Fressiakit only emitted a weak, hardly audible wail before curling up and sleeping fitfully.
Applefoot had wondered aloud how likely it was that all kits in a litter born in such a situation would survive, to which Gorseheart had tore at his ear for. Now, as angry as the thoughtless comment had made him, he couldn’t stop it from sinking into his mind.
“We’ll love her,” he repeated, shoving the thought away forcefully. “We’ll love all of them. That will be enough.”
He prayed that he was right, but deep down he knew how cruel the Stars could be.
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Being realistic.... kits born in such a sitatuion, to dead demons, there’s bound to be problems?...Right?
