Hello, readers! Welcome to Forest Roots! This is my first Kid Icarus fanfic, and it will explore the backstory of the game's protagonist, Pit, where he came from, who his kin were, and how he developed into the angel everyone knows him to be.
I find myself rather drawn to the close bond Pit has with Palutena, that sort of mother-and-son relationship between the two, and that inspired me to write this story.
I don't have much else to say, but review! I'd love to know what you think.
The forest. A vast land, made up of four regions, of deciduous woodland, shadowy pine marshes, open windswept moorland, and shady river shore. This forest was home to four tribes, who'd lived there for generations.
Suntribe was known for its strong, loyal warriors who were skilled at hunting in dense undergrowth. Nighttribe was known for its stealthy, shadowy warriors who used the cover of night to their advantage when hunting. Skytribe was known for its fast, lithe warriors who enjoyed chasing their prey on the open moor. And Watertribe was known for its sleek, agile warriors who didn't mind getting wet when they hunted.
But these tribes did not always live here, nor were they always tribes. This forest was once inhabited by another species. A species known to humans as divine beings, servants and messengers of the gods. A species that appears to be a unique hybrid between man and bird.
The forest was once home to angels.
Some were distant relatives of those whom have taken to the skies. Others were lost ones that had gotten separated from the rest of their kind. And some were youngsters that had always been wild, and never exposed to humans. Living in small groups, by their own rules, it was a very divided place, and only their being the same race bonded them.
It was a foreign tribe from a nearby mountain range that introduced the structured way of life that now thrives in the tribes known in current times. Assimilating with the native angels, the mountain tribe split into four, and over the course of innumerable generations, establishing life as it is known. In the process, having wings was a trait that became cut out of their genetics, for they had no use for such appendages. An ability to pounce, mastered by observing cougars, compansated for this.
Through tales passed down by word of mouth, these tribe's rich history has been preserved. Among these tales is a story that only so many can remember.
A story about an orphaned kit who was born in the forest, but raised among the heavens...
The gray haired warrior growled, and launched himself at his opponent, pinning him down. The Watertribe warrior reacted by clawing at the gray warrior's shoulders. Blood ran down the warrior's arms, staining the ground red, but he held on, his claws digging into the Watertribe warrior's chest. The warrior snarled and threw the gray warrior off of him, then jumped up and pinned down the gray warrior. Staring at him coldly, the Watertribe warrior ripped open his opponent's underbelly. The gray warrior let out a yowl of pain, then grabbed his opponent by the head and threw him sideways. The gray warrior then clawed his opponent's face. The Watertribe warrior yowled, then leapt up from the gray warrior's grasp, and took off. As the warrior ran off, the others joined him. The Suntribe warriors let out howls of victory, then headed back to their camp.
"We won," the gray warrior said, as he headed for the nursery. There, a female warrior with long, silver hair emerged from the nursery.
"Dovepool..." the gray warrior said, panting, exhausted from the fight. Then suddenly feeling dizzy from loss of blood, he collapsed onto the ground. The wounds on his underbelly bled heavily, and a pool of blood started to form underneath him.
"Graystorm!" Dovepool ran up to her mate. The gray warrior softly moaned, then partially opened his eyes, and gazed at Dovepool.
Horrified by how much blood Graystorm was losing, Dovepool bent down beside him and started to make some effort to stop the bleeding. But Graystorm feebly nudged her away.
"No, Dovepool...there's nothing you can do for me now. I go to hunt with Startribe now..."
"But Graystorm...what about our kits?"
Graystorm closed his eyes.
"You will know what to do when the time comes...raise them well for me, Dovepool."
The gray warrior went limp, and his breathing gradually grew fainter, until it stopped.
"Quick! Go get Tawny Leaf!"
Dovepool clenched her jaw as another contraction seized her. Soon, Darkfang returned with Tawny Leaf, and her apprentice, Whitepaw.
"If you put your hand here, you can actually feel the kits inside the mother's belly," Tawny Leaf said to her apprentice. Whitepaw gently put her hand on Dovepool's belly.
"Ow!" Dovepool yelped. "Get off me!"
Whitepaw pulled her hand back, and looked surprised at Dovepool.
"Sorry," Whitepaw said guiltily. "I didn't think it would hurt that much."
"Queens can be crabby when kitting." Tawny Leaf eyed Dovepool. "Some are crabbier than others."
"You'd be crabby if you'd been kitting since dawn," Dovepool snapped, as another contraction rippled through her.
Dovepool shut her eyes, and shuddered, trying to focus all of her strength in giving birth to her kits.
Suddenly, the pain in her belly faded a bit, and a wave of warmth went through her. Dovepool instinctively relaxed, then opened her eyes. Tawny Leaf was holding the kit in her arms, as she licked clean the kit's face. Whitepaw nipped the cord connected to the baby's belly.
"It's a tom," Whitepaw remarked.
Tawny Leaf wrapped the baby in a cloth, and gently set him down in Dovepool's arms. Dovepool gingerly licked the top of his head, and looked closely at him.
The kit had inherited the well-rounded face of his mother, though his eyes were set far apart, like his father. His soft hair naturally lay in thick tufts, and was a rich shade of brown with a hint of dark ginger, the color of a vole's pelt.
Suddenly, the kit made a tiny noise. Dovepool watched in surprise as the kit rubbed his eyes and slowly opened them.
The kit's eyes were a dark, pale blue, like the night sky. So dark, yet expressive and reflecting as water. They were round, like Dovepool's, and big with curiosity as he gazed up at his mother.
"He's cute," Darkfang remarked. "I've never seen a kit with so dark of eyes."
"He kinda reminds me of Graystorm's mother, Pike Tail," one of the other nursery queens, Blossomleaf, said. "She had brown hair like that."
"What are you going to name him?" Tawny Leaf asked.
Dovepool smiled. "Pikekit. His name is Pikekit."
"Your love for Graystorm is why you gave him a Watertribe name, isn't it?"
Dovepool nodded.
"Graystorm would be very proud," Darkfang said. "It's too bad he died, before getting the chance to see his son, who will never truly know just how great of a warrior his father was."
As the others left to give Dovepool time alone with her kit, she thought about that, and recalled Graystorm's dying words.
You will know what to do when the time comes. Raise them well for me, Dovepool.
Yes, I will, Dovepool thought, as she looked down lovingly at Pikekit. And this kit will know about you, Graystorm. I'll tell him all about you. Tell him about just how great of a warrior you were, and how you died bravely in battle. Yes, this kit will know who his father was. I promise.