CHAPTER ONE - BIRTH

The morning had been cold; foreboding of snow, before any of it had hit the forest. Despite that, the sun was bright, beaming down on those beneath it. Birds were singing as they always did, their melodies alerting the residents down on the ground that it was dawn once more. The camp came to life as the dawn patrols began to gather sleepily in the middle of the clearing, murmuring amongst themselves as they waited to leave. Everything was rather quiet, until the serenity was disturbed - a loud voice, booming from the nursery,

"Mossfoot! It's happening!"

Almost as soon as she had been summoned, an old little she cat emerged from her den. The clan's medicine cat, beloved to generations. Her grey paws worked their way over to the nursery, preoccupied only when she was wished good luck or good morning - but not once did she stop, acknowledging their comments with short nods. The warriors gathered for their patrols watched her make her way to the nursery, a happy atmosphere filling the air. There would be more mouths to feed, but also more warriors to serve the clan. Outside the nursery sat a tom, looking to her. She smiled at him before entering, making her way over to the tortoiseshell queen that was sprawled on her nest.

"Well isn't this a pleasant start to my day. How are you feeling, Larkflower?" She chirped to the queen, dropping her bundle of herbs beside her in an almost perfectly practiced routine.

"Nervous." The queen confessed with a soft laugh, the medicine cat offering her a warm smile as she picked up leaves and tore them up with the help of her claws. She then nudged the pile towards the she cat, encouraging her to eat them. Larkflower did as she was meant to do, lapping up the leaves. She scrunched up her nose in a disgusted manner, the queens surrounding her giving a knowing laugh.

"Aren't they all. I'd be more surprised if you weren't." Larkflower let an amused snort leave her nose as she adjusted herself in her nest, Mossfoot nudging a stick towards her mouth.

"Just incase the pain gets a bit much. How many kits do we bet there is?" Mossfoot asked loudly, leaning back from the queen and glancing towards the queens either side of her. One of them, a smaller cream cat, shrugged her shoulders then commented confidently,

"I've said four, since day one."

"Four? How big do you think I am?" The labouring queen joked, then gritted her teeth to pass a contraction.

"I think there's...Two." The other queen added as she moved her three kits out of the way of the medicine cat, their little groans of protest making her laugh softly.

"That's not a bad guess." Mossfoot told the brown she cat, looking back down to Larkflower after she'd spoken. "You're doing fantastic, just keep going."

"I've been dreading this." She confessed mid pant, the older cat smiling fondly as they glanced at each other.

"Don't speak, just push. I remember your mother, when she gave birth to you. I was sat here, waiting, then out you came. Such a strong pair of little lungs, Starclan themselves must've heard you."

"She would've been so excited to meet them. I miss her."

"We all do." Mossfoot's voice had dropped to something just above a whisper, a soft smile on her face as she remembered the she cat fondly. "I'll quickly go and fetch something I've left in my den - I won't be long." The old cat slunk out of the den slowly, though she hadn't managed to go far.

"Mossfoot, is she ok?" A frantic voice had asked. It belonged to the tom that had been waiting - a silver tabby, his amber eyes wavering over the entrance of the den. He was a father for the first time, his young mate inside giving birth. The medicine cat had softly laughed, out of habit. She had seen many kits born in her seasons, as well as many anxious fathers.

"Everything is fine, don't worry." She had told him sincerely, then shouldered her way over to her den quickly. She retrieved what she needed, then hurriedly returned into the nursery and focused her attention on the she cat in front of her. The queen was in obvious pain, but she kept quiet, waiting for it to be over. There were pants, groans and worried questions from kits in the nursery concerned about her wellbeing - until there were shrill cries. Each cat breathed a sigh of relief. The kits had arrived - loudly, no less than she had expected. The medicine cat smiled at the small kits as they wriggled their way towards their mother's stomach, "How do you feel?"

"Exhausted, but nothing sleep can't help with." The two nodded and smiled, turning their attentions to the kits. One calico and a smaller black one. The other queens in the nursery purred as they welcomed two new members of the clan, listening to the grunts from the newborns. The medicine cat stood up and slunk out of the den, squeezing through the gap. When she was outside she offered a grin to the father, her old eyes bright.

"Two healthy kits - a son and daughter. Congratulations Troutsplash, you're now officially a father." A great laugh erupted from the tom's mouth as she told him the news, purring. She flicked her tail tip towards the entrance, gesturing for him to enter. He slowly entered in and she followed, a warmth in her chest as she saw the tom rub his face against his mate's. "I bet you're happy."

"More than you can imagine, these two are all I could've hoped for."

"Do you have names in mind?" The cream furred queen asked as she curled up in her nest beside the family, flicking her tail over her sole sleeping kit. How he had slept through the commotion, they didn't know.

"For her, Dapplekit...Him, I am not so sure." The queen brought a tongue over the little she cat as she announced her name, purring as she squeaked in surprise. Troutsplash stared at his son for a moment before he exclaimed, looking up to the faces staring at him in the nursery.

"He is small! What about Smallkit?" He beamed, almost as though he was about to be rewarded for his contribution. Mossfoot laughed softly, flicking the tom's paws playfully with the tip of her tail. He appeared lost for a moment, looking back to his mate.

"No, that's not him." Larkflower told him rather shortly, gazing at the kits suckling at her stomach affectionately. Mossfoot too studied the little kits, leaning in ever so slightly before she sat back up once more.

"He looks just like soot, be careful not to lose him in the dark." The medicine cat mused half to herself, raising a paw to clean it. As she rasped her tongue over her pads, the mother beside her thought out loud.

"Soot…" Larkflower murmured, then looked to Troutsplash quickly and almost instantly the two exchanged a smile that was telling of what was on both of their minds. As easy as that. Soot, it turned out, was perfect.