#shallowfig

Shallow I remember liking the idea that he sort of looks like a fennec fox!

He had a litter with someone he wasn’t all that close with. Once they were weaned, he was given full custody. Those kits are:

Then he and Banshee got together!

They had:

Banshee herself looks like this:

(Bonus sister)

Their mother, Plague, is here:

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.

====================

@ambitiousauthor

if Banshee and Shallow ever do end up together, I imagine it would be a loooong time. 

Shallow was the one to step away because he didn’t want to hurt Waspbeak or Falleniris anymore, and he didn’t want to risk compromising their saftey by having Plague close by--much as he trusted Banshee.

Not to mention the fact that Fallen and Wasp were manipulated into trusting someone before they were attacked. He doesn’t want to think that way about Banshee, but there’s doubt, how can there not be?

So they grow up and mostly move on, but there’s always some missing piece in his heart. He knows he should be happy in many moments most would be laughing, but he just feels empty.

He even has a kit or kits of his own with a she-cat, though they broke things off when the kits were weaned and Shallow was given full custody.

And then maybe Banshee finds the kits, who have explored and gotten lost, and returns them home, following their scent trail. And then he sees Shallow.

Daughter of HootxGrouse

Traits from Grouse: 

--pelt colours

--eye colours (Pigeonfang)

Traits from Hoot:

--pelt pattern

--ear colour

--nose colour (slightly darker)

--pad colour

She is named ‘funnel’ after the shape petals can make. This is a reference to Hootpetal’s suffix. She is also named ‘quail’ as a reference to Grousemane.

Son of HootxAlder

Traits from Alder:

--pale fur and dark golden fur (both from Sweettree)

--ear colours

--nose colour (I think?)

Traits from Hoot:

--brown pelt colour

--pad colour

--eye colour

Daughter of HootxMyrtle

Traits from Myrtle:

--dark brown

--light pelt colour

--eye colour (debatable)

--ear colour

--pad colour

--fangs (everyone was perplexed by it, turns out it runs in Buck’s [Myrtle’s father] family)

Traits from Hoot:

--lighter colours

--eye colour (debatable)

--nose colour

She got the ‘Hemlock’ by the plant-based aspect both Myrtle and Hoot share. 

She got her scar in an accident and has since been mute.

They don’t know if the dark colour is from Hoot’s father or Myrtle’s mother (it’s the father).

================

Scene change to Shallowfig who is doing the same

Could you imagine the drama too? Shallowfig trusting his friend and crush so much, but feeling like a traitor to his brother Waspbeak and family after he's finally told about Plague. And he knows it isn't Banshee's fault at all, but still hearing that and still wanting to be friendly to Plague's kit must hurt his brother?

What if Waspbeak even starts to have panic attacks thinking about how close Plague must be for the kits to even be able to meet. And that worries Shallowfig more.

Maybe he even pushes Banshee away, and they argue but they also feel really bad. And they both realize that the only ones they want to talk about these bad feelings with is each other.

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:

Shallowfig’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. His fear was far lesser than it had been when Banshee almost died and when Plague had tried to attack his precious kits–heartless foxdung–but it was still present enough to make him feel nauseous, squirming uncomfortably as he sat before his father, Alderstar.

Between the den invasion and Banshee’s wound, and on top of it all, finding out that Banshee was pregnant with his kits, it was a while before his parents, other than Hootpetal, wanted to talk with him about his choice to become mates with Banshee behind their back. At least, that’s what he expected that this was about. All Whitebriar had told him was that Alderstar wanted to speak with him about Banshee.

Alderstar sat facing him now. They were on equal ground, but it felt as though his father was staring him down from a high stone. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” Shallowfig began, wanting to get ahead of this. 

“You should have,” Alderstar replied.

“I thought you would have chased her away,” Shallowfig admitted.

“Would that fear have been worth keeping part of your family secret from the other?” Alderstar inquired. Shallowfig huddled into himself. He looked down on the ground, focusing, or trying to, on his claws digging into the soil. He heard a sigh, and a moment later Alderstar was no longer facing him, but beside him, his tail curled around his son’s back.

“I would be a hypocrite to fault you for choosing love,” his father went on. Shallowfig knew he was talking about his dad, Myrtlewing. “I’m just sorry you thought that I would chase her away.”

“Would you have?”

“I would have probably come close,” Alderstar breathed. “But I know the truth now. She is not Plague’s pawn, shaped in her way. She is a victim that deserves love and a home, and you stood up and provided it for her.” 

Surprised at the warmth in his father’s voice, after having expected rage, Shallowfig looked at Alderstar, meeting his proud gaze. “You’re not mad?”

“I still think you went about it wrong,” Alderstar told him. You should have explained the situation to us or at least your brother and sister. But,” he continued when Shallowfig shrank in guilt, “I understand that is easier said than done. And I understand that our paranoia due to events of the past has caused you to hide from us what makes you happy, and for that I am truly sorry.”

Alderstar was always loving and involved, but this was too much. After finding out he would be a father again, after almost having his kits die and then his mate almost die–and then finding out that it was his pregnant mate that almost died….Shallowfig trembled, leaning and sniffling into Alderstar’s welcoming embrace. 

Then a cold shiver ran down Shallowfig’s spine. “Plague’s not dead.”

“No,” Alderstar agreed. Shallowfig felt his fur bristle and heard his voice tense. “But she’s weak now, after what her daughter rightfully did to her.”

“Do you think she’ll try to attack again?”

“We should expect it, to be safe. Train your kits. Then train them harder. Teach them to kill.”

Shallowfig flinched. He knew and accepted that his fathers and many of his kin were killers, that was a simple fact that had existed since he was a kit, but he had not planned to pass down such….instinct to his kits. “I don’t want them to be monsters.”

“Would you rather they be dead?” Alderstar questioned.

To that, Shallowfig didn’t have an answer. He did, in his head, know that of course he would do anything to keep them alive. But he couldn’t say it, to say it meant to think it, thinking that his lovely, little kits in Banshee’s belly could grow up to be just as cruel as Plague, just to make sure that they don’t die by her claws.

He shut his eyes tightly. He should see Banshee. Standing, he looked his father hard in the eye and responded, “I will do anything for them.”

================

--When Alder sighed and walked over to Shallow it was because he was reminded of himself and his own father, Stormstar, and didn’t want to make his son think of him like he thought of Storm!

“Hey! Break it up, you two!” Shallowfig ordered when he slipped back into his den, Banshee following just behind. The kits looked at him, then at Banshee, then their eyes lit up when they saw the food, and they scrambled to their stubby paws and raced after.

Immediately, Banshee was unnerved by the kits swarming around her legs. 

“Alright, alright, give her some space,” Shallowfig told his kits, sweeping them away with his tail. He took the minnows and set them on the ground a few pawsteps away, to give her room.

“And you got herbs!” one of them noticed, mouth and cheeks already messily stained with fish guts. “Do you smell ‘em, Racemekit?”

“Yeah,” Racemekit confirmed, sounding tired. His eyes were glazed and he chewed slowly and without vigor, contrasting his littermates, devouring the several minnows in ravenous gulps that had Shallowfig concerned that they would choke.

“You bringed them?” Tendrilkit asked Banshee. 

“Uh, yep!” Banshee confirmed. Shallowfig wondered if she had ever spoken to a kit before, and that thought made him wonder when the last time she spoke to anyone–passerbys not included–before. Was she still close with her mother? Shallowfig shook his head. Best not to think about that now.

“We would have first,” Tendrilkit went on moodily.

Shallowfig tilted his head. “Is that why you snuck out?” Did they want to get medicine for their brother? Shallowfig had thought they were simply doing what all kits do, ignoring what their parents’ told them and going on an adventure.

Tendrilkit huffed. “No! You was asleep and didn’t see us!”

Shallowfig hid his smile. “Well, we have the medicine now, so don’t do it again. Come here, Racemekit.”

Racemekit did so. He seemed doubtful as he looked down at the large bundle of herbs, but he took them anyway, as slowly as he did the food.

Shallowfig’s nerves crackled, as they always did when he thought about his son. Already, his sickness was making him more somber each day. It took everything in Shallowfig not to hold his son close every second. He knew Racemekit would not want to be treated any differently than his littermates, even if he might…..No. It was benign.

Shallowfig remembered suddenly that he had a guest–who was watching the kits with interest. Knowing he should speak, and wanting to get out of his own head, he spoke with a smile. “Guess I should introduce you to them, huh?” He nodded forward, to where Tendrilkit was nibbling on a small rib. “Fire-spirit there is Tendrilkit. She’s as much a pawful as you probably think, if not more.” He blinked at Racemekit. He wasn’t going to call him the sick one. “My son here is Racemekit.”

Banshee followed his gaze warmly. “I see you went with the plant names.”

“Yeah,” Shallowfig responded. He didn’t know why his cheeks were warm. He returned his attention back on the kits at the minnows, and instantly frowned. “Pollenkit is the one that will need a bath.”

“Is she the one that’s–”

“Rolling in fish guts? Yes.”

Banshee chuckled before pointing with her snout toward the final kit, who had dragged her share to the other side of the den as to not be disturbed by her rambunctious sisters. “And her?” 

“She doesn’t really live up to her name,” Shallowfig told her, heart filling with love for each and every one of his kits. Even if they were different from each other, they were all equally dear to his heart.

Then it sank in just what he named the final kit, and his mouth went dry. 

Banshee looked at him expectantly. 

“....Bansheekit.”

“Oh..”

Shallowfig tried to chuckle, but it came out like splintering wood. “I suppose I’ll have to rename that one if you decide to stick around, wouldn’t I?”

Banshee looked down.

“!...Not that you have to stick around if you don’t want to, but if you do–Uhm, I guess maybe just Banshkit? Or Sheekit? Or you know what, how about a different name altogether? I think Woodkit suits her–” His rambling cut off by a paw pressed on top of his own.

“It’s a great name,” Banshee told him, eyes glistening. “I should know. My mother called Myrtlewing a Samca–you know what? Maybe we shouldn’t go with that. I can’t imagine it means anything good. Maybe Mylingkit? Lwakit? Hupiakit?”

“Can’t say I know what any of those mean,” Shallowfig murmured.

“My mother had some interests in her group when she was alive. Probably why mine and Ursula’s names are so….different. But I–I can understand not wanting to have anything to do with her.”

Shallowfig pressed, ever distantly, against Banshee. “The names don’t have to relate to her. I can pick the names because I want to. They sound really good. Which one is your favourite?” It dawned on him that he was asking Banshee to name one of his kits, and by the looks of Banshee’s face, it dawned on her, too.

“I think I like the name….”

======================

--Yep, leaving it on a cliffhanger because I can’t decide on a name!

@elementaldeityoffood

--Wasn’t planning on doing a follow-up, but gotta introduce the kits, right?