In Soulclan territory, sun high.
Brokenshard was running through the forest. Where are you Jewtail? He searched the hollow, he ran to the river, he even went as far as the prairie. Jewtail, Jewtail, where are you? He pounded through the blackened trees and looked under bushes. He tasted the air. There was a scent, to hard to discern. Jewtail? He followed the trail until he saw a splash of grey fur beneath the dying fronds of a fern plant. Jewtail, is that you? The cat-scent was washed out by the strong scent of blood. He carefully stepped towards the bush. I smell fox! He crouched and padded slowly towards the bush. He peered at the face in the shadows. Jewtail! Upon looking closer, he saw the cause for the blood scent. Her face was bloody and mangled. He heard a rattling breath escape from her jaws. She gasped his name. He leaned closer. "What is it?" he whispered. Jewtail coughed up blood. "Kits", she rasped. That was the last word she would speak in this world. Her body spasmed. Soon three wet kits were mewling on the ground. The kits sniffed the air. Their heads turned to their mother. They wailed. Brokenshard leaned towards her face. She quivered. And was still. No, no, no, no, no! Please no! This can't be happening! Why did you have to leave camp, Jewtail, why? The kits started mewling once again. Brokenshard looked at these tiny rewards he had reaped from this horror. In that moment he promised to protect them, no matter the costs, for they were the only part left of his precious mate.
Brokenshard buried Jewtail under a little bush next to where they had spent many moons in each other's company. He stayed there for only moments, as the kits wailed for milk. He would have to find a queen to nurse his kits.
When Brokenshard arrived at camp, he went straight to the nursery, where Brightbrush lay alone. Brightbrush was the only queen of Soulclan at the time. He showed her his kits, and told her his painful news. She was sympathetic and promised to take good care of his precious kits. "What are their names?" she asked. He hadn't thought of that yet. "Well...", he looked at a little dark grey tabby kit. The kit was curled in a ball, and she looked very sad. "I guess she must be Sadkit." Brokenshard decided. He looked at the next kit. This kit was a pitch black kit too, just like him. He was almost the same. The only difference Brokenshard could see was that his little kit kept falling over. "This is Fallingkit," he told Brightbrush. The last kit was a silver tabby, an almost perfect image of Jewtail. She had been silent when the others had wailed and quiet when the other kits had mewled for milk. She had never made a sound. "She can be Silentkit," he told Brightbrush. She smiled. "Those are nice names." She murmured. "I will take good care of them, don't you worry."
Brokenshard would spend every waking with the kits, and he moved his bed into the nursery with them in case something happened during the night. He had a promise to keep.
Dawn, the next day.
Kits were mewling. Two of them. Fallingkit and Sadkit sniffed and felt their way towards Brightbrush, ready for breakfast. Silentkit sat in the corner, surveying everything with huge round eyes. They were sky blue, just like Jewtail's. She hadn't made a sound since the moment she entered this world, and she had opened her eyes as soon as she was well fed and warm. Silentkit was going to be a reasonable cat, possibly the makings of a clan leader or medicine cat. She will make me proud. Once the other kits had all drunk their fill, Silentkit came forward to suckle. She didn't drink much, only enough to keep her hunger at bay. When Brightbrush's kits went out to play, she watched. He saw her practicing the moves she saw them use on her own, with skill that it took him many moons to master. While she practiced fighting and hunting in the corner of the nursery, Fallingkit and Sadkit lazed with him, staying in the comfort of their cushy kit lives.
Dawn, a week later.
Sadkit and Fallingkit bounded to Brightbrush, ready for milk. She lapped up the herbs to keep her milk flowing, then curled around the suckling kits. Brokenshard looked around for Silentkit. She hadn't been sleeping with him when he woke up, and he was getting worried. He poked his head out of the den and spotted her beside the freshkill pile. She had managed to get a small piece of mouse and was settling down next to it. Brokenshard watched as she bent her head down and tried to bite it. She didn't seem to be able to get a chunk off it. At sunhigh, Brokenshard saw Silentkit sitting on a small ledge, watching the other cats eat. She still had her little piece of mouse. He watched in awe as she then copied how they turned their heads and held down much larger animals with their paws. She tore off a chunk and chewed it slowly. She must have liked it, because she kept eating, and then snuck back to the pile for some more.
At midnight, five days later.
Brokenshard heard a yowl. He leaped up and dashed out of the den, just in time to see rogues charging into their camp. An attack! He pounced on one cat and bit it's neck, sending it away screeching. Blood flew as rogues battled Soulclan, and time flew as the camp emptied. Soulcan had won! He padded back to the nursery and looked around. A small, lifeless body lay crumpled on the moss, and a distorted shape was flung against the wall. Sadkit? You can't be dead! No, not you too Brightbrush! Brokenshard searched for his other kits. He found them, Silentkit comforting Fallingkit, both of them hiding on top of Silentkit's ledge. "Thank goodness you're safe," he sighed. He carried them back to camp, and snuggled them into the scraggly remains of his nest.
Dawn, the next morning.
A kit mewled. Just one. Brokenshard led his two precious kits towards what was left of the scattered freshkill pile. He gently coaxed Fallingkit to eat a couple of mouthfuls of a bird, but his heart wasn't in it. Silentkit ate solemnly at the edge of the clearing, her mood reflecting the rest of the clan's. Over half of Soulclan had died, Sadkit, Brightbrush, and her three kits included. The dead cats were buried, and those alive mourned their losses, but life must go on, and so it did.
Midnight, a week later.
The rogues were back. Chunks of fur flew through the air, cats yowled and screeched, but it seemed that Soulclan again was going to win. Through a flurry of bodies, Brokenshard saw Fallingkit, trying to get away from the battle. The kit slipped in blood as the last skirmishes were dying away, and was trampled by the fleeing rogues. Nooo, this can't be happening, haven't I paid enough for what I did? You can kill everyone one I love! Brokenshard wailed and wailed. He fled the camp, not knowing where he was running to, only what he was running from. He stumbled past bushes and tripped over tree roots. Suddenly a rogue appeared, slicing his throat and ending his suffering, for now at least.
Dawn, the next morning.
All was silent. Silentkit padded out of the nursery and began to help clean the camp and repair the damage of the fight. No one gave her a second glance. At sun high she let everyone take their meal first and then ate some scraps of thrush from the dirt. No cat questioned the disappearance of Brokenshard. Later, when his body was found, no cat questioned his death. Silentkit swore she would find out the truth. The whole truth.
Many seasons later.
She lay in the shadow of a large oak tree, just outside the border. She smiled sadly, a tear forming in her eye. Silentkit had never forgotten her mother's scent.
