Hey, y'all! This here is the story that has been stuck in my mind for some time now. I had the idea a while back, but am just now putting it down on paper- er, FF, anyway. This story will be told as a narrative, with little to no dialogue- just one cat looking back on her life and telling her story. It's a bit different from my other stories, since I rarely write narratives. At any rate, I hope you enjoy it. Chapters may all be different in length, with some short and some long, depending on where Tansy is in life.)
I was a tiny bundle, a tiny ginger bundle. There were three of us- two ginger, one dark gray. We were born in the time of snow, huddled together in a hollow log with our mother, shivering and barely hanging on to life. I could hear the roar of the wind outside the log, rudely keeping the three newborns cold. Even before I could open my eyes, I knew this life would be hard. Mother was tense, so I knew she knew how much trouble we were really in.
Mother was alone. I don't know what happened to her mate. She never talked about him. Ever. All I knew is that she was taking care of us by herself. That meant she didn't leave the log at all the first few long days after we were born. She must have been starving, but to leave and look for food meant her kits would surely freeze, if not be killed by a hungry fox scavenging for food in the deep snow.
When I finally opened my eyes, I was instantly aware of just how bad our situation truly was. I had not expected Mother to be so thin. I had felt her bones while suckling, but she looked pitiful lying in our small nest. Her bones jutted through her dirty, matted gray fur. Her eyes were a dull blue, sunken in her head, almost not seeing her little kits. I was four days old and already thinking about death.
My brother looked just like me, with ginger fur and deep green eyes. Mother said we were the most beautiful kits she'd ever seen- almost identical to each other. My sister was dark gray, just like Mother. And like our mother, she was thin. Pitifully thin. She was so small compared to my brother and me, and considerably weaker than us. She did not open her eyes that day. In fact, she did not open her eyes for many days after I did.
When we were five days old, Mother finally decided to name us. Her name was Juniper- named so because her mother had a fascination in herbs. She had taught our mother about herbs as well, so we were all named after herbs. My brother was Yarrow, my sister Mallow. I was named Tansy. I liked my name. I thought it suited me. It sounded beautiful when I said it out loud.
Mother finally had to go out hunting. She could wait no longer or she would starve, and in turn, all three kits would starve as well. She told Yarrow and me to watch Mallow, who cried piteously as Mother stood up and left the log. With Mother gone, we realized just how cold it really was. Mother had provided much of our warmth. Without her, the inside of the log was icy cold. Mallow shivered and whimpered, her little eyes still pinned shut. Yarrow and I laid beside her, trying our best to keep her warm. He and I exchanged a knowing look- a kind no kit should ever have. Neither of us expected our sister to survive the time of snow.
Thankfully, Mother returned quickly. She had caught only a measly shrew, but was glad nonetheless to find her kits still alive. Yarrow and I watched her eat, wishing we were old enough for meat, but understanding that there was no way Mother could hunt for all of us if we were. Mallow still did not open her eyes.
As time went on, Mother grew more and more anxious. The time of snow was still upon us, and she was still finding it hard to hunt for herself. On top of that, Mallow still did not open her eyes. That worried Mother more than food. She just wanted her little daughter to live. Yarrow and I tried our best to encourage Mallow to open her eyes. We were big enough to play now, and having a third playmate would be great fun. Mallow would not be swayed. Her eyes stayed closed.
Yarrow and I grew larger and more boisterous every day. The bigger we got, the more we wanted to play. Unfortunately, there was little room in the log to play. Every time we would start a game, Mother would scold us saying we were disturbing Mallow. Yarrow and I could only sit and watch our mother and sister. We had no fun, but we did not complain. It didn't feel right, when our sister was so weak. How could we complain about not being allowed to play when Mallow couldn't play even if she wanted to?
To pass the time, Mother told us stories about her past. She was what cats call a 'loner.' She had always been one, and said she would stay one until the day she died. She told us about cats who lived with animals who had only two legs. She said they were called kittypets and were often soft and did not hunt for their food. She told us about groups of cats who lived together in 'Clans.' I asked Mother if it would be better to live in a Clan because she would have cats to help care for all of us, but she just said living alone is better. No one can hurt you if you live alone.
Alone. That's what we were. Alone and cold. I spent most of my kithood wondering if there would ever be a time when I wasn't cold. I wished so much for the warm time to come so Yarrow and I could go outside and play and help Mother hunt. I never thought for a moment that living in that log during the time of snow would be the easy life. I never thought that this was only the beginning of a long, hard road that I was destined to travel. I never thought my life would be marked by pain and sadness. I was a kit, an innocent kit, embarking on a dangerous journey of loneliness, grief, and loss.
(A/N: So what do you think? Please tell me. Review like Mallow's life depends on it!)