AN: Yes, yes, I know 'blood' is unusual, but please don't kill me for it! Btw, I don't own warriors. If I did, they wouldn't have started using their paws to pick things up!
Allegiances will be in the next chapter.
A frantic tom crouched over a she-cat, desperately licking her pale fur. The moon had risen, casting an eerie light over the marsh lands. The she-cat gasped and her sides rippled.
"Fishfur!" the tom cried. "Don't give up! I'm sure Darkshine is on his way here! Just stay strong until he gets here!"
Fishfur heaved a few more ragged breaths and a bundle of fur slid out onto the coarse grass. Two more followed, one after the other. "Rockfall," Fishfur gasped, "our…kits…"
Rockfall quickly began licked the three tiny kits, but stopped after a few licks. He sniffed them, and turned remorsefully back to his mate. "Fishfur…they're dead."
"No…" the she-cat gasped and cried out as a final kit struggled free. A riverlet of blood followed it, pooling around all four, but the last one squealed and kicked. Rockfall rushed over and licked water and blood from it's fur. Picking it up very carefully by it's scruff, he took it to where his tired mate could see it.
"It's a girl," he murmured. Fishfur pushed herself forward to sniff her kit.
"She's alive," she breathed. "Oh, Rockfall, look at her; she's perfect…" Her head fell back and her eyes began to glaze over. Rockfall let out a whimper and lapped at the she-cat's blue-gray fur.
"Fishfur! Fishfur, no!" he yowled. "You're perfect! I don't need the kits, Fishfur, I only need you!"
He fell silent and buried his nose in her fur to catch her fading scent. His life was over; Fishfur was gone. But then a squeak at his paws brought him back from despair and he looked down at the kit. She was a pretty silver tabby, with features similar to Fishfur. Anger and pain raked through him at the sight of the tiny kit, alive while his beautiful mate was dead. He could hardly bring himself to look at her, but picked her up and started padding through the marshes toward the MistClan camp. Then her stopped and considered for a moment. A heartbeat passed and he redirected his pawsteps towards the border. Luckily, he wasn't far from it, and soon entered into HalfClan territory. The mossy ground and tall trees that thrived here made him nervous, accustomed as he was to the open skies of the marsh.
"Who are you?" a voice hissed from the roots of a tree. A sleek, gold she-cat emerged from the gnarled shadows. Her hazel eyes regarded him hostilely.
"Why are you here?" a second voice, this one much more threatening, came from Rockfall's other side. A big black tom, almost invisible, sat at the base of a sapling. Rockfall set his kit on the moss to reply.
"I am bringing you a kit," a meowed, forcing himself not to growl. The she-cat's eyes shone with interest.
"A kit, you say?" She padded forward to sniff at the small scrap of fur at Rockfall's paws.
"Flamepelt!" the tom hissed. He hurriedly joined her, eyeing Rockfall warily. "We will escort you to our camp," he growled. Rockfall dipped his head in agreement and picked up the kit. Flamepelt padded beside him, nose twitching, while the black tom went before them.
"Who was her mother?" the golden she-cat meowed unexpectedly. Rockfall looked at her in surprise. By her tone, he could tell that she knew the kit's mother was no more. "Toms don't usually bring their kits here the night of their birth," she explained softly. "And I smell blood."
Rockfall twitched his tail but did not answer. Why should he tell these half-breeds about his Fishfur, his beautiful, perfect Fishfur?
"We're here," the black tom meowed from ahead. Rockfall glanced up and saw that they were standing at the entrance to a grove of trees. Shallow pools lay here and there around the HalfClan camp, surrounding leafy dens and a small boulder that rested, half buried, in the moss on the far side.
"The nursery's this way," Flamepelt meowed gently. She padded towards a holly bush on the far side of the camp, near the boulder. As Rockfall approached, his ears picked up the mewling of hungry kits and their mothers tired voice as she shifted to give them milk.
Flamepelt paused in the entrance, looking back at him for a long moment. Then she slipped all the way in, disappearing among the leaves. Rockfall hesitated for only a moment. He shouldered his way in and dropped the kit he'd been carrying in the moss. She hit the nest with a squeal. The nursing queen raised her head sharply with a hiss.
"He's brought his kit to us, Mossfur," Flamepelt whispered softly. "I was wondering if you could care for it."
Mossfur's hackles lay flat and she stretched her head forward to sniff the kit. Gently, she nudged her forward until she could suckled from her belly alongside the rest of the kits. Her green eyes turned upward to Rockfall. "She's a beautiful kit," she meowed. "What's her name?"
Rockfall was about to flick his tail and tell the queen that the kit didn't need a name, when he remembered the blood that poured out of Fishfur as she struggled to bring the final kit into the world.
He turned to go. "Bloodkit," he meowed. "Her name is Bloodkit."
AN: R&R please!