The first thing in my life I remember is blackness. Its duration in my kithood lasted far longer than it did to most- unless if you were blind or had a leaf sling forever fastened around your eyelids. I can distinctly remember a warmth, and then a sudden jerk. The safe clutches around me loosened, contracted- and then that s when the cold hit. I had experienced the danger and unfairness of the world for the first time. I learned, later on, that what I had been feeling was birth. And a very messy one, at that. Four fat kits in a bundle, a lot of red blood. And a very interesting story to be told.
Muffled noises greeted my brand-new eardrums. The sounds were thick and stuffy, like a hot Greenleaf day, courtesy of my duck-fluff ears being sealed tightly against my head. They would open that first day. My eyes would open, too, but I would see almost nothing. No, I wasn t blind my sight was being interfered with. And, strangely, the interference was made by the rest of the Clan. Specifically the medicine cat.
I don t hold any grudges over that medicine cat s head, but what he did seemed stupid and still seems stupid up to this very day. After examining each kit when we were born, we all had something wrong with us. It wasn t overly awful, but we still were an erratic litter.
The oldest, my brother Cranekit, had feathery fur on his sides, just like the wings of a bird. The swirly black markings connected on his sleek white coat were offsetting. My mother Heartfur had a silver coat (that shined pink in the light), with soft, bright etchings. They were all ordinary tabby markings, though, nothing like Cranekit had. My father Vipertail was strong, with a puffed-out chest- he was a tortoiseshell, a very rare finding, as male tortoiseshells don t exist much. His black coat, blotted with tabby orange, some blobs of white, and a few gray and brown dapples, was a very remarkable one, and one of the many reasons my mother decided to become mates with him. Cranekit had a thin tail and a head that wrenched to and fro as he growled at random things- a floating piece of fluff; a passerby cricket. His green eyes glowed like two fragments of emerald on each side of his face, and they were one of his best qualities. Other good qualities included his unusual coat, along with his legs, which looked like he d been wading through a pool of blackness. The real problem was this- Cranekit could attach himself to almost anything. Those little claws of his were amazing, as we learned when he performed the feat of climbing up the stone nursery walls.
My sister Lynxkit also had acquired an abnormal pelt-it was bright orange, like a tiger lily. Orange cats have green eyes. But not Lynxkit. She surprised every cat with her two baby blues. Her paws and tail-tip dipped in white, she lurked around the nursery, able to squeeze her slender body through any space. She refused to drink my mother s milk, and spent most of the day curled up sleeping. But at nighttime she d wake everybody up with her shrill, catty mews, and then she d raid a mouse from the woods and chew on it with her early-grown teeth. She was like a fox, and even some of the warriors steered clear of her, as if they were suspicious of her species. But I liked Lynxkit, as she was brave and daring. I looked up to her, even when I wasn?t able to see. I knew who she was; her identity- and that was what mattered.
The last brother before me was Foxkit. His coat was not red, like Lynxkit, but a frigid gray-silver like my mother?s. It might?ve made more sense to anyone around to name him something more appropriate like Icekit or Hailkit, but Heartfur saw his tactics right away. He had yellow eyes like full moons, and his personality sort of matched up with them. He was as sneaky as his name. He would always charm the queens with his ways, but he was faking it all- he was anything but charming. He was mischievous, just looking for trouble. At night, when his only company was Lynxkit, he?d sneak out. Doing unknown things. Only Heartfur and I knew he did this; I would arouse in the middle of the night to hear his paws against the stone and smell his excitement.
And then came me, the youngest of the litter. I was named Adderkit, in hopes the courageous-sounding name would automatically make me less of a weakling. I wasn?t necessarily a runt, but I was smaller than the others. But at least I had one thing to be proud of- my coat, a replica of Vipertail?s. It was my eyes that caused a ruckus, or, actually, my eye. I only saw light for a few moments. My right eye was orange, like a drop of honey-amber. It was perfectly normal. But my other eye was discolored- violet. I could see out of it, but what the medicine cat thought (his name is Swanwing, and he?s not even close to as elegant as it sounds) is that it was sensitive and couldn?t have any light shined into it. As soon as that happened, he ordered I be shut away into darkness until my eyes ?adjusted?which never did happen, anyway. Those few moments of light faded from my memory. A small kit-sized den made of leaves and moss was made for me. I never left it. Only my mother could enter so she could nurse me. I was allowed to come out at night, and then there wasn?t much light. Swanwing would come to check my eyes every day, but my violet iris stayed violet and eventually he gave up. It was a stupid technique to begin with?any cat would tell you that?but it was important to me. I remember that time as the beginning of my family?s outcast from the Clan. I had made it even worse for them. The little kit who was shut away because he had an abnormal eye. I had ruined my family?s reputation. And, theoretically, even after my release from the useless treatment, there was still much more darkness to come.
I think that time is also important because it made me love color. I loved it so much- I valued it. My mother used to take us all on walks, and I would bounce around in pure exhilaration, squealing about the sky was such an impeccable blue or how the grass was so green that day. My littermates would stare at me as if I were crazy. It was pretty much true- I wasn?t an example of normality. But I would ignore their stares. They didn?t appreciate color, and that was not my problem. They hadn?t been shut away in blackness at the start of their lives. They didn?t know what it was like- I had been deprived of color.
While other kits marveled over Clan history and hunting, I became absorbed in very uncatly things. I think my mother was worried for me. I once came across a dead cricket. I began to dismantle it and animatedly discussed all the parts, and how I?d once seen a cricket rub its legs against it wings. I babbled on about how it was strange that such a tiny creature could make such a big, musical sound. All the while, Heartfur blinked at me with total concern. Probably thinking, what is wrong with this kit?
It didn?t take long for the rest of the Clan to realize that we were a bizarre family. My mother was very faint and stressed those days? one apprentice mentioned her, saying she couldn?t handle such weird kits. And my father was no better?he was very conceited, and he walked with his chest puffed out and often broke into heartfelt speeches about the importance of the Clans. I once saw him launching a dramatic one about how an ordinary mouse could be filled with so much sustain and flavor. And what about their four kits? We were scarring ourselves.
Darkness was upon us. It wasn?t exactly hate, but it was negativity and that was enough. I didn?t know that it wasn?t going to stop there?there was much more we?d have to go through. A different kind of darkness, one of significance, was looming overhead?
Agh. Have you ever noticed how traveling across the country messes up your sleep schedule?