Post by ~Moon; on Dec 22, 2012 7:51:18 GMT -5
Shorttail's Past; The Beginning
A she-cat padded restlessly outside an old den, just off Duskclan turf. Within the den came a cry, a painful cry. Soon there was silence -- this worried the she-cat, and so, she didn't wait to go in -- she simply went in.
Upon entering the she-cat could hardly see. Moss hung off the walls, sand covered the floor -- or was it gritty dirt? -- and a large nest soon occupied her paws. The soft leaves tickled her sensitive paws, and soon she's whispering; "Mother?
Upon finding her mother, the soft finger she-cat nestled beside her for a moment; nudged her. The she-cat, Minxfur, gazed at her mother, Spottedwhisker. Why isn't she feeding the kits? Minxfur wondered, frantically. Her mother should have been feeding the kits she had just birthed!
Spottedwhisker meowed softly, "Minx, leave, come on." Once Minxfur looked around enough she found the litter of kits -- eight kits, to be precise. They all moved oover each other, mewing their cries of hunger.
"But, mother! They're alive." She didn't understand. Her mother wasn't taking these kits back to Duskclan, why would she? They were half Fireclan! Minxfur stared at Spottedwhisker, her mewls of protest shoved aside as the older she-cat leaned on her. "Their father might come." was all she said.
With that, those eight kits were left in that den, alone. Their only family in the world walked away; brought sad, fake news to Duskclan's cats. They would say the kits had died, that Spottedwhisker had gone into forced labor; they had died.
~x;
Shorttail's Past; The Journey
A Tom had later found the den, the kits. Actually, two Toms. A Duskclan Tom -- who was mated to Spottedwhisker; he wanted to see the kits for himself -- and a Fireclan Tom -- whose kits those eight were.
The Fireclan Tom, Sootpelt, stared intently at the kits; he didn't sense the Duskclan Tom, Duskwhisker, enter the den. The kits mewled pitifully, three were dead -- all three of the dead were males; leaving four females and a male -- who was the runt of the litter.
A she-cat padded restlessly outside an old den, just off Duskclan turf. Within the den came a cry, a painful cry. Soon there was silence -- this worried the she-cat, and so, she didn't wait to go in -- she simply went in.
Upon entering the she-cat could hardly see. Moss hung off the walls, sand covered the floor -- or was it gritty dirt? -- and a large nest soon occupied her paws. The soft leaves tickled her sensitive paws, and soon she's whispering; "Mother?
Upon finding her mother, the soft finger she-cat nestled beside her for a moment; nudged her. The she-cat, Minxfur, gazed at her mother, Spottedwhisker. Why isn't she feeding the kits? Minxfur wondered, frantically. Her mother should have been feeding the kits she had just birthed!
Spottedwhisker meowed softly, "Minx, leave, come on." Once Minxfur looked around enough she found the litter of kits -- eight kits, to be precise. They all moved oover each other, mewing their cries of hunger.
"But, mother! They're alive." She didn't understand. Her mother wasn't taking these kits back to Duskclan, why would she? They were half Fireclan! Minxfur stared at Spottedwhisker, her mewls of protest shoved aside as the older she-cat leaned on her. "Their father might come." was all she said.
With that, those eight kits were left in that den, alone. Their only family in the world walked away; brought sad, fake news to Duskclan's cats. They would say the kits had died, that Spottedwhisker had gone into forced labor; they had died.
~x;
Shorttail's Past; The Journey
A Tom had later found the den, the kits. Actually, two Toms. A Duskclan Tom -- who was mated to Spottedwhisker; he wanted to see the kits for himself -- and a Fireclan Tom -- whose kits those eight were.
The Fireclan Tom, Sootpelt, stared intently at the kits; he didn't sense the Duskclan Tom, Duskwhisker, enter the den. The kits mewled pitifully, three were dead -- all three of the dead were males; leaving four females and a male -- who was the runt of the litter.