LIGHT, blinding and hot, it welcomed Sedgekit into the world with its unforgiving shine. It pierced through the tangle of cypress roots, hitting the nursery and providing its heat for the young kits nestled there. Though the brown fur on her face felt warm, her eyes burned, and the world around her overwhelmed her senses. It made her cry. A gentle murmur and a rasping tongue against her cheek pacified her loud mew.
"Close your eyes, Sedgekit," her mother murmured. Sedgekit was solaced by the affection in her mother's familiar voice. "The light is too much for your young eyes."
Sedgekit rolled over from her back, blinking the pain away. The nursery was quiet, and Sedgekit could see the slivers of sunlight that penetrated through the canopy of roots. She screwed her blue eyes up to see her mother, Fernstream, gazing down on her with concern in her green eyes. Sedgekit gave a small smile, crawling between her resting siblings, Yewkit and Mudkit, to nestle close to the white fur of her mother's chest. Fernstream smelled sweet and the purr she gave was like a lullaby. She peeked up from her chest gingerly, afraid of being blinded again.
"Sleep, Sedgekit," Fernstream cooed. "You don't need to see the world all at once."
Sedgekit yawned, fighting the wave of fatigue wracking her little body. Her tiny claws kneaded the mossy bedding they nested in anxiously. The sun was so bright, but it could shine light on so much. The mysterious scents and sounds that perplexed her for so long could finally be visualized. She felt her heart skip in her chest.
"But-" Her mewl was silenced by Fernstream's soothing licks and reverberating purrs. Soon, Sedgekit surrendered to sleep, shutting her eyes to the world once more.
"Oh, my Sedgekit…" Fernstream trailed off, sweeping her plume-like tail around her three kits. "My darlings." She frowned. "I pray to StarClan that your destinies will be merciful, but if they aren't, promise me you won't give up. Promise me."
"That's quite the burden to place on our kits so soon," a joking voice interrupted Fernstream. Her green eyes found her mate, Shaleheart, standing in the entrance of the nursery. His golden eyes glowed. "Let them enjoy their innocence, Fernstream."
Fernstream was not amused by his light-hearted remark, and she refused to look at him again when he crossed the shadows of the nursery to settle beside her. She did allow a small smile to cross her face, however, for the feeling of his nose pressing against her cheek struck a chord in her heart.
"I'm their mother. I'm allowed to worry," she retorted half-heartedly, smile fading. "They already have so much against them… I fear they will not know how to handle their fate when the time comes."
"Show some faith," Shaleheart advised. "They're our kits, after all. They can take on anything."
"Easy for you to say," Fernstream rebuked, "you didn't receive the vision that I had. The prophecy they've been given is not gracious."
Shaleheart stared at his mate and kits, silenced by the worry in her tone. His smile reappeared, however, and he was optimistic. "Maybe not, but I knew from the moment I saw our kits that they would be capable of doing great things."
Fernstream nodded slowly. "That's what I'm afraid of." As she gazed at her sleeping kits, the echo of her ancestors whispered in her head. The birth of three who were not meant to be will give rise to revolution.
