This is my first story! I'm quite new to posting stories, but not writing them; I've been a bit of a 'floater' around the site for years and years, but have just now decided to join. This story will be angst filled and a bit gory - the T rating vastly implied for it. Critiques are allowed, but no flamers. I won't tolerate it. I hope that, since this is the prologue, this is enjoyable!
P r o l o g u e
Her abdomen ached from where the two kits had just come out, the placenta quickly deposited outside of the nursery as it sloshed it's way out of her. Her breathing was ragged, heavy from the bearing of pushing two kits out of her belly and into life, where they'd become warriors, learning in the fine and polished arts of hunting and fighting for StormClan.
"You did a good job, Ravenfrost!" Her panting became duller as she looked up at the medicine cat, Willowstream, who was looking over her and her two kits proudly. The silver tabby smiled brightly and gently, her tail coming over to the two, newborn kittens and tapping their backs with her tail-tip.
Ravenfrost blinked, and for the first time, looking down at her two kittens. One was already bigger than the other; short but soft-looking black fur lining it's large shape, and a small tail curling over it's hind leg. She smiled softly at the kit, her identical black paw reaching forward to touch it's back gently, feeling it's tiny heartbeat against her rough paw pad.
Willowstream's smooth voice brought her back to reality. "That one's the tom. He's going to be a big one, no doubt!" the medicine cat exclaimed.
Ravenfrost nodded, being pulled back into the entrancement of the sight of her two kits that she had put into the world, both breathing steadily as they suckled to fill their new found hunger.
Her eyes left her son, and slowly going to her other kit, who she presumed to be her daughter, by her noticeable feminine features. The she-kit was tinier than her brother; while the tom-kit took no effort to push her over so he could suckle his mother's milk, Ravenfrost's daughter had mewed in a pitchy and new voice until Willowstream had nudged her to her mothers belly.
Her daughter was a cream color; obviously this fur trait had been inherited from her father. Her fur, though slick from birth, was already looking as if it'd be a troublesome thing to sleep next to in a den; fuzzy, and tickling.
Ravenfrost looked over her son and daughter with a sharp sense of pride and overwhelming love, watching as the pair's backs and flanks rose and fell with their steady breathing, the tom-kit already stopping his suckling, having filled his hunger.
She had forgotten that Willowstream had been standing there, observing the new mother, until the medicine cat's meow once again cut through the warm and comfortable air: "What are you going to name them?" she asked, politely, but eagerly.
Ravenfrost couldn't help but fight a small smile; naming her kits was something that she always wanted to do. I know that I should wait for Lightstorm to come back from the dawn patrol, she thought, her thoughts drifting to her absent mate, but I know he won't mind if I name them without him. She smiled once again, brighter, looking down at her son and daughter.
"Well," she began, inhaling, "For the tom, I think I'd like to name him Nightkit," she meowed, bending forward and nuzzling her son's back with a dark-colored nose.
Nightkit let out a mew, his still-developing paws kicking out and pawing at Ravenfrost's belly. She purred, brushing her tail across his frame.
Ravenfrost turned to her daughter, sighing blissfully. The tiny cream kitten was feeding actively at her belly, her tail-tip flicking contentedly. The new mother pursed her lips for a moment, before sighing. "For the she-kit, I'd like her to be Morningkit," she meowed, a contented purr growing in her throat as the now-Morningkit mewed, her tiny toes ticking Ravenfrost's belly.
She smiled gracefully, nuzzling both of her kits. "Nightkit and Morningkit," she breathed out, watching the two kits that she had given life to fed.
A despondent sigh left Ravenfrost's throat, watching as Morningkit stumbled from her nest. She stretched out her legs as she tapped the ground ahead of her, before allowing the paw to come in full contact with the ground. The queen felt her throat clench as the tiny kit sniffed the air, attempting to pad to her unknown destination.
Her tiny paws scooping through the upturned moss from Nightkit's former play, Morningkit let out a delighted purr as her pads touched a new surface, pawing at it and bouncing it between her paws.
Of course it's so amusing to her, Ravenfrost thought dully, blinking at her daughter with regretful eyes. She wouldn't know the difference between a thorn and a mouse - not at this age.
Unknown to the tiny cream kitten, her brother, who was faintly concealed in a bundle of moss that he had built up by himself, was quietly creeping toward her. His newly changed golden eyes were wide with mischief as he curled into a hunters crouch, unbeknownst to his smaller sister.
The bigger kit let out a fake battle cry, pouncing on his littermate. Morningkit's eyes widened as her brothers heavier weight was now pressed down on her, causing her to sink to the floor. Nightkit was almost the size of a new apprentice despite his young age of three moons, something that was both a blessing and a curse. Morningkit tried to wiggle away, the shock from the surprise still in her eyes.
Nightkit's large paws batted at her face, causing her to let out a squeak of displeasure, to which Nightkit noticeably ignored.
Ravenfrost let out a warning growl, narrowing her eyes. "Nightkit," she meowed sharply, causing her only son to look up from his play-fight, eyes wide and innocent. "When someone squeaks, you let go."
Nightkit blinked, clambering off of his smaller sister, ears flattened to his head in his confusion.
Ravenfrost sighed, watching as Nightkit mumbled a small apology to the cream kit as she scuttled up. Morningkit's fur fluffed up, and the tiny she-kit tottered away from her larger littermate, climbing back into Ravenfrost's nest.
Her son looked at his sister with irritation, before turning his eyes to his mother. "It's not fair," he mumbled, eyes looking down at the floor instead of meeting his mother's now-questionable gaze.
Ravenfrost blinked. "What's not fair?" she asked, voice turning softer.
Nightkit's tail dropped. "I can't play with Morningkit at all!" he mewed, looking back up at Ravenfrost. The queen blinked, before her son clarified himself a little bit further: "She always squeaks whenever we do play fights, and you always act like it's my fault!" he cried, tail now lashing.
Ravenfrost sighed. "I know it's not fun being the only kits inside of the den now, but Grayfeather's kits will be born soon, and-"
Nightkit frowned. "But they'll be too young and too little to play with me," he muttered.
The black-furred queen blinked sympathetically, her throat feeling heavy as Nightkit carried on, still not done with his miniature rant.
"And ever since Falconkit got hurt and Eaglepaw became an apprentice, you've been so much more protective of Morningkit. I don't understand what you're so worried about, Mother!" Nightkit huffed, staring at his sister and his mother.
Morningkit curled into her mothers chest, causing Ravenfrost to let out another sigh, throat still tight.
Because when she's ready to become a warrior, she'll be put into a cruel tournament to see if she can become a warrior. And all of the blind kits are the ones to die first.
Okay, this may be confusing. But for more info on this whole plot, a look onto my profile should be a little bit more clear on it. Yes, I have a bit of a thing for naming kits like Nightkit and Morningkit are named, and how Eaglepaw and Falconkit are named (they are siblings).
I hope you all enjoyed it, and feel free to tell me how you feel in the review section!