Mysterious Ways
Meanwhile, somewhere in Elmsmere Way... kittens are about to come into the world. At long last.
sfeather, thank you very much! I hope this one will satisfy you. :) HGP, will they reunite in time? Read on! jellicleleader, you got that right! Here you go. the1andonlyofo, oh, I dare! Hopefully this will make up for it. ;) NotSorry, thank you so much! I hope you'll enjoy this next part too! Molting Parrot, you have to feel a bit sorry for Bixbite- barfed on and blinded, what a way to go. Hope you like this chapter!
Disclaimical: T.S. Eliot created these kitties, Andrew Lloyd Webber made them sing and dance. I just play with them, like so many toy mice. These seven adorable kittens are mine, though I owe Eliot for suggesting they existed in the first place.
A big fish-pasty thank-you to CrazyIndigoChild for being my beta-reader!
And a warning: this one's the birth chapter, and it gets a little graphic. If you think you might get a little squicked, then please just skip it, and dive back in once the next chapter's up. You've been warned. :)
25. Seven Kittens
"We'll be fine; we just need to make it back to the junkyard," Demeter said between breaths. She repeated it like a chant, as though it would help ward off panic. "Everything will be fine."
They'd stopped in the road for about the tenth time. Mistoffelees was arched forward, supporting his body on a damp, moss-covered rock decorating the front lawn of a now-ruined house. He bit his lip to try and stifle his cries as he waited for a swift, hard contraction to pass.
They'd escaped Macavity's den, but their progress was slow. It seemed that every few steps, Mistoffelees had to stop to ride out a contraction, which seemed to be coming on so strong and fast now that he barely had time to catch his breath in between.
"Come on," Demeter urged, wrapping her arms around his body as he began to straighten up, his sense of balance long gone. "We just need to keep moving. We'll be home soon. We'll be fine."
"The yard's hours away," Mistoffelees moaned.
They had barely made it a few more paces, about to turn a corner on the road, when another contraction, stronger than any so far, struck hard and fast. It was only the lack of breath that kept Mistoffelees from screaming in pain.
But there was something different about this pain; it brought about the overwhelming sensation of needing to push the kittens out, and suddenly he understood what he was meant to do to help them out. He couldn't help the urge, and stopped in his tracks, all but hanging from Demeter's arms as he groaned from the effort, torn between obeying his body's command to push, and not wishing to birth a kitten right there in the street, out in the open and vulnerable.
"Misto?" Demeter asked, noticing the change in his reactions. He squeezed her arm as his face tightened and she frantically tried to keep him upright as his legs began to wobble. "Come on, focus. We can make it."
Mistoffelees shook his head, gasping for breath as the pain ended for the moment. He couldn't fight the need to push any longer. "I… I need to stop. They're ready to come out. Right now!"
Demeter whimpered softly. After casting a worried look around, she tightened her grip around Mistoffelees' body and began pulling him towards the nearest house. They were barely a few rows past Macavity's den, but they simply had to chance hiding here, especially since Mistoffelees was clearly unable to continue.
The front door to the house was latched shut and impossible to push open, even though Demeter gave it a shove with her full weight. One of the windows had a small crack in it; with Demeter's help, Mistoffelees climbed the short height to the windowsill, panting from the exertion, and they both managed to squeeze through the crack without catching the edges of the broken glass.
They dropped to the floor inside the house. Unlike Macavity's den, which had been filled with junk, this home was bare, the walls slightly smoke-damaged. The floor was dusty and covered with a torn, threadbare carpet. It was hardly a hospitable place in which to birth a litter of kittens, but it was certainly better than staying outside, out in the open where Macavity and any remaining hench-cats could easily spot them.
The far left of the living room opened into a small cubby-space. Demeter led him toward the area, as far away from the door and windows as possible, and that was about as far as Mistoffelees could go before his legs gave out. Weak and trembling, he curled onto his side and drew his legs as close to his chest as he could, and felt Demeter's hands on him, nervously moving his tail out of the way.
"All right," Demeter said. Her breaths had grown panicked. "H-how do you feel?"
Mistoffelees nearly laughed at her question. Instead, he coughed a bit as his breath kicked up dust from the carpet by his cheek, wishing they'd brought along some of the water from the basement. "Like I'm about to… to have kittens."
"Well, I'm right here," she said, patting his leg lightly. "I'm here for them. When they come out, I'll take them, all right? You'll be fine."
Mistoffelees nodded. She was trying to reassure herself as much as him, but all the same he appreciated the platitudes. He tensed as another contraction began, feeling a small glimmer of gratitude as Demeter immediately removed her hand from him, knowing that the physical contact was still uncomfortable.
A low hiss began to build in his throat, turning into a stuttered groan as he gave in to the urge to push the first kitten out. He shook all over with the strain and relaxed with a loud breath as the pain ended. No kitten had appeared yet, though there was an uncomfortable pressure now in his lower abdomen.
"You're doing fine, Misto," Demeter soothed, with a tremor in her voice. "Push when you're ready. I'm here."
Mistoffelees did, trusting his body and instincts as the next contraction came seconds later. Soon the house fell to silence but for his laboured gasps and the sound of his tail thumping against the ground as he pushed.
He yelped and dug his claws into the floor at a sudden sharp, burning pain between his legs. Through the rush of his pulse in his ears, he suddenly heard Demeter's stunned gasp, followed by a curious, high-pitched mew.
"Dem… Demeter?" Mistoffelees asked dazedly.
"It's a tom, Misto," Demeter whispered. "Your first kitten is a tom."
Mistoffelees wearily raised his head from the ground, to see Demeter holding a messy, squirming newborn kitten in her hands.
Oh Everlasting. His firstborn kit. He reached for the mewling kit with a shaking hand and Demeter brought it closer so that he could touch its damp little head, though she was careful not to pull on the cord still connected to its abdomen. It nudged against Mistoffelees' hand with its pink nose as though recognizing its parent, eyes still shut. Its fur was white and deep brown, and even though it was wet with blood and fluid, the fluff of fur around its neck was obvious.
"He looks like Tugger," Mistoffelees said with a watery smile.
"We're going to need a blanket," Demeter said. She seemed both awed and terrified of the tiny kitten in her hands, holding him carefully as his small paws kicked at the air. "Or anything to put him and the other kittens in. I can't hold them all in my arms."
She was right, and the awful, dirty floor was no place to put down newborn kittens. Mistoffelees was about to ask to hold his kitten, to give Demeter the chance to search the house for what they needed, but he flinched at the sound of scrabbling at the front window.
Demeter jumped too, though she was careful to protectively cradle the kitten as shadows moved behind the dirty, opaque glass and moved towards the crack. Had Macavity found them?
"Mistoffelees? Demeter!"
Mistoffelees nearly cried in relief; definitely not Macavity, and instead a very familiar nose and pair of eyes peeked through the cracked glass.
"Munkustrap!" Demeter cried. "We're in here!"
"Tugger and Skimble are with me," Munkustrap called back through the window. "Are you both all right?"
"We need help! Misto is having the kittens!"
There came more sounds of scuffling and Munkustrap's eyes disappeared from the crack. A second later, the glass shattered under the force of a hard kick and Tugger tumbled inside the house.
"Everlasting, Tugger! You could have hurt yourself."
Ignoring his brother, Tugger leapt over the broken glass and ran to Mistoffelees' side, dropping to his knees, momentarily stunned and motionless at the sight of his mate, alive and well but in the middle of laboring, and of Demeter by his side, holding a crying kitten in her arms. He seemed torn as to where to focus his attention.
Mistoffelees reached for him, pulling him down for a nuzzle. "Tugger!"
"I'm so sorry," Tugger said. He nuzzled his mate back and kissed him furiously, glancing at Demeter as the kitten gave another mewl. "We took so long to find you and I should have been here while you… is-is that…?"
"Our firstborn kitten," Mistoffelees said, smiling shakily. "I think he has your mane."
"Oh, Misto…" Tugger breathed. His hands hovered close to Demeter's arms, as though he was afraid of touching the small bundle.
"Take him," Demeter gently said. "Hold your son, Tug."
Tugger hesitated for a moment before touching the kitten, as though afraid of hurting the small creature, but quickly opened his arms and cradled the small body close to his chest. At the change in handlers, the kitten gave a strong mewl and buried its face into Tugger's mane.
Avoiding the shards of glass on the floor, Munkustrap and Skimble joined the small group. Munkustrap sank to his haunches beside Demeter, nuzzling her and laying a hand on her shoulder.
"Munk," she whispered, pressing herself to her mate. "We need something… a blanket, a box, anything for the rest of the kittens."
"I'll see what I can find," Skimble said, at once scrambling towards the back rooms of the house.
"Where's Macavity?" Munkustrap asked softly. "Is he here somewhere?"
"Mistoffelees hurt him with his magic," Demeter said. "But I don't think he's dead. His den was a street away over by-"
They all flinched as Mistoffelees suddenly cried out, twisting about on the floor under the grips of another contraction. The pain was strong, though it didn't bring about the urge to push, and Mistoffelees anchored his claws into the floor again as he waited for it to pass.
"It's all right, Misto, it's all right…" Tugger said, holding the kitten tightly to his chest and leaning down to embrace Mistoffelees. The gesture was meant to be soothing, he knew, but the contact only made his fur stand on end and broke his concentration.
"Don't touch me," Mistoffelees hissed, and gave Tugger a swat with his claws. He whimpered against the floor as the pain ended, regretting his action immediately at the hurt look on his mate's face. "I'm s-sorry… it just hurts so much, and…"
"It's all right, I understand," Tugger said softly.
"Not during the birthing pains, that's all," he whispered. "But now, it… it's all right. Just touch me, nuzzle me… anything. I-I missed you so much."
Tugger immediately moved to obey. This part, at least, was a comfort, and he sighed gratefully as Tugger obliged his request and leaned down to soothingly stroke his head. The kitten gave a happy mew as it recognized the scent of both its parents close together.
"Here we go, now," Skimble said as he hurried in from a side room, dragging a thick crocheted blanket and a human bowler hat in his arms. "This is the best I could find. At least the hat's clean enough."
"It'll be fine," Mistoffelees panted. He was thankful to have this support; now that his mate and Skimble at least were here, he could concentrate on birthing the rest of the kittens.
"Now Tugger," Skimble said, putting down the bowler hat and shaking out the blanket. "You see that little cord going to your kit's belly? That needs to be bitten off, but carefully. Would you do the honors?"
Tugger nodded and carefully shifted the kitten in his arms, hesitating at the task for only a split second before severing the tiny cord with the edge of a fang. To Mistoffelees' surprise, he immediately began to lick the kitten clean, unmindful of the birth fluids; it was pleasant to see the normally-squeamish Tugger take to this task so readily.
"He does have your mane," Demeter remarked with a laugh, as the kitten's fur began to dry and the tiny ruffle became apparent.
With a proud grin, Tugger gently placed the kitten inside the bowler hat. Still at Demeter's side, Munkustrap peered down inside the hat.
"He's very handsome," Munkustrap remarked, turning his head slightly when Demeter noticed the scratch on his face and went to paw at it. "We searched for days and only managed to catch your scents a few minutes ago. Are you both all right?"
"We're not injured, if that's what you mean," Demeter said, watching as Skimble motioned for Tugger to help him spread the blanket out onto the ground next to Mistoffelees. "Macavity was unconscious when we escaped his den, but I don't know if he's going to wake up, or come looking for us."
"I'll keep watch," Munkustrap nodded. "We fought a tom out in the road, a big one with a black coat. Do you know if Macavity had any other hench-cats with him?"
"We only ever saw two with him," Demeter said. "The other one won't follow us; I scratched his eyes out." She smiled shyly in Mistoffelees' direction. "After Misto hacked up on him."
"Really?" Tugger smirked. He gave Mistoffelees' arm a quick rub. "Way to go, Misto."
"Oh, shut it," Mistoffelees said, though he smiled weakly at his mate's amusement.
"Tugger, my boy, why don't you help me lift him," Skimble said as he finished preparing the blanket.
Skimble grasped his legs while Tugger carefully slid his hands around his shoulders, and together they lifted him and deposited him onto the blanket. It was more comfortable than the awful floor and Mistoffelees sighed in relief as the thickness of the blanket helped to ease some of the aches in his body. His gaze rested on Skimble, who had taken over Demeter's place and was now carefully maneuvering his legs so they were drawn as close to his chest as possible.
"Skimble?" he asked timidly. "Jenny said you know what to do, right?"
"There isn't really much for me to do," Skimble said warmly. "You're the one doing all the hard work, little one. But I've helped Jenny with her own litters before. Just try to keep calm and help the kittens along when they're ready."
Mistoffelees nodded, then began to pant harshly at the next hard contraction. He recognized the sensation of pressure very well this time, and reached out blindly to catch Tugger's wrist as he pushed.
"Misto?" Tugger asked, grasping Mistoffelees' hand. This particular touch didn't seem to irritate him and he squeezed Tugger's hand back.
He barely had time to take in a breath between pains. "N-now…" he gasped. "One's coming…"
"You did fine with the first one," Demeter said. Her voice was close to his ears, as though he had leaned down to nuzzle him but stopped short. "Just relax and do the same thing as before."
"She's got the right idea," Skimble said. "We're all here for it when you're ready."
Having Tugger and the others nearby seemed to make the process easier; the second kitten came much faster, and before he could yell at the pain of its small body coming out, he heard excited gasps and titters from the gathered cats.
"Misto, look," Tugger whispered. "That one looks just like you."
"It's a little queen," Skimble said, holding up the squirming newborn for Mistoffelees to see. Tugger was right; she was a black-and-white tuxedo, just like him, and she gave a dainty mew as her paws scrabbled at the air.
Tugger released his hands and reached for the kitten, swiftly severing the cord on her belly and licking her black-and-white fur clean. Mistoffelees gave a tired breath and nuzzled her briefly, before she was placed in the hat against her brother.
"Two kittens, we have two kittens now," Tugger said, rubbing the back of Mistoffelees' neck as he tried to rest before the next contraction hit. With an unsteady hand, the small tom reached for Tugger's hand and guided it lower onto his back, wordlessly begging him to help take away some of the pains. He whimpered as Tugger massaged his back; he felt as though a pollicle had kicked him there.
"Rest while you can," Skimble said, settling down on his haunches and wiping at his own brow with a bright look in his eyes. "Well! Jenny's going to have my hide, you know. She was so excited to be the one to help your kittens come into the world, and now I'm stealing her glory."
Mistoffelees weakly smiled, trying to relax as Tugger continued to rub firm circles into his back. "How… how long is this all supposed to take?"
Skimble kindly shrugged. "It's all up to your little ones, I'm afraid. Jenny's last litter was out quicker than a flash—she carried on for a bit, gave me a few good nicks, and we had the kittens before the hour was up. But we weren't waiting on seven little kittens, either. Well, five now."
Mistoffelees nodded and sighed. From where he lay, he could see Demeter, who had settled down close to the bowler hat where the first two kittens now rested. At the sound of a gentle mew, she glanced inside it and smiled.
From across the ground floor of the house, past the small pile of broken glass, Munkustrap sat perched on the windowsill, keeping watch for any incoming cats, though more than half the time he kept looking back to the small group with an anxious look on his face.
Mistoffelees signaled the start of the next contraction with a loud groan; Tugger caught on quickly, removing his hands from his mate's back and helplessly hovering by while he dealt with the pain. Mistoffelees had hoped that each subsequent kitten would come out faster, but unfortunately this next kitten seemed ready to take its time.
He lost count of how many pains it took before the third kitten was ready to come out; by that point, he'd knocked Tugger's hands away from his own and squirmed onto his back, whimpering as the kitten's head was delivered, and finally the rest of its body.
"Oh, she's so beautiful," Demeter said. She'd taken over rubbing his head while Tugger washed the kitten, a black queen with rusty gold patches, who was already falling asleep in her father's hands.
"It's no surprise the two of you are making some pretty kittens," Skimble said, smiling warmly and patting Mistoffelees' leg. "That's three kittens done. How are you feeling?"
"Tired," Mistoffelees weakly said. "I'm so thirsty. And I feel—uhn!"
He'd gotten used to expecting a few minutes' rest between kittens and wasn't prepared for the next contraction to start so hard and fast. The urge to push came on just as strongly; his hand flailed out and he stuck his claws into the nearest soft target—Tugger's leg, as it turned out, drawing blood and a small whimper from his mate as he dug deep into the flesh to deal with the pain.
"Wait—Misto!" Tugger gasped, still working to clean his daughter. "Wait a minute!"
"I can't wait!" Mistoffelees screamed. He pushed hard and didn't let go of Tugger's leg until he felt the sharp pain of the kitten's body sliding out and heard its squealing mew.
"A tom," Skimble grinned, holding up the fidgeting newborn. "This little one was anxious to come meet us, wasn't he?"
Mistoffelees watched as Tugger placed the sleeping queen in the hat with her siblings and took the small tom-kit. Worn out from its unexpectedly quick birth, he gasped, "Tug, he… he has your spots."
"He does, doesn't he?" Tugger said with pride, licking their son clean as the kitten made squealing sounds of protest and tried to roll about in Tugger's arms. "I think he's the one who kept demonstrating his dance moves."
Mistoffelees gave a weak chuckle, sighing as he felt Demeter rub the back of his neck. Glancing over to the windowsill, Mistoffelees frowned. The fourth kitten's delivery had left him hazy and he only just noticed that Munkustrap was gone.
"Where's…" Mistoffelees began, pausing to catch his breath. "Where's Munk?"
"He's just outside," Demeter said. "He went to find you some water."
"B-but it's not safe out there! Macavity could-"
"He's fine, Misto. He knows how to be careful. He'll be back in a minute."
"But he… he shouldn't…"
Mistoffelees painfully rolled over onto his side. Tugger was still kneeling by his head, having just gently laid their son down in the hat; the small tom buried his face into the sleek black fur of his mate's legs, dampening it with tears.
"Oh, Misto," Tugger breathed, stroking his ears and head. "Everything's all right, don't worry. You're doing fine."
"I'm s-s-sorry," Mistoffelees cried. "This is taking so long… and… and it's not safe here… and…"
"Lad, kittens take the time they need to take," Skimble gently said. "You can't make them come any faster or slower, trust me. Try to stay calm and keep your breathing steady, all right? It won't do you or the kittens any good to tire yourself out."
Mistoffelees nodded shakily against Tugger's leg, peeking out with one eye as he felt Skimble's hands on his hips.
"Let's try something. Jenny said this usually helps the kittens move along easier."
He followed the guiding hands, laboriously hoisting himself up onto all fours on the thick blanket. His limbs wavered under the effort but the change in position did feel good, if only because it helped stretch his muscles. Glancing down, he blinked a little curiously at the sight of the reducing swell of his belly.
This new position brought him face-to-face with Tugger, who shifted so he could kneel directly in front of him on the blanket, smiling encouragingly. It was the first good look Mistoffelees had gotten of his mate since their reunion; Tugger looked stressed and as though he hadn't slept in days. His mane was a fright and his normally-pristine fur matted with mud and… was that blood?
"You're a mess, Tug," Mistoffelees said dazedly.
"Sorry," Tugger said with a slight laugh. "I had more important things to take care of first. We can't all look as gorgeous as you."
"Oh yes," Mistoffelees bitterly chuckled. "I'm sure I look stunning at the moment."
Reaching up to tenderly pet his ears, Tugger said, "You do. No, really. You look so…"
"Frightful?"
"I was going to say beautiful."
"You have horrible taste, Tug," Mistoffelees said with a pitiful smile, soon lost to the pain of another contraction.
It did seem a little easier to deal with the unforgiving pain in this position and he rocked on all fours for a few moments, panting loudly and clawing holes into the blanket until it was over. He swallowed thickly as Tugger nudged him and licked his face.
"I-I don't feel well," Mistoffelees murmured.
Tugger immediately stopped the licking and gave him a measured look. "Are you going to be sick?"
Mistoffelees could do little but give a trembling shrug. He hadn't even heard Munkustrap return, and in fact he hadn't noticed the tabby was standing by him until he saw Tugger urgently motion to him. Munkustrap knelt by him, holding a porcelain cup with a broken handle, filled to the brim with water.
"It's fresh, from the recent rain," Munkustrap said, handing him the cup. Holding it with shaking paws, Mistoffelees gratefully gulped down the water; almost instantly, his nausea dissipated. Amazing how such a small thing made him feel so much better in the middle of this trial.
"Thanks, Munk," Mistoffelees rasped. Munkustrap gave him an encouraging nod and Mistoffelees wondered if he'd been itching to do something practical to help this whole process along.
When the next difficult contraction came, he cried out and lowered his upper body to the blanket, rocking back and forth with his rear high up in the air, long past caring about everyone seeing him in such an undignified position. Whatever helped him deal with the pain was worth it.
When the urge to push came, Mistoffelees straightened himself up, clumsily reaching for a surprised Tugger and sliding his claws into his mate's shoulders as he helped the kitten along.
He groaned loudly as it was born, his own cry soon drowned out by the kitten's indignant scream it was delivered into Skimble's hands. When it was passed over to Tugger, he saw that it was a fluffy, maned calico queen. She only calmed down once Tugger began to clean her, though her cries started up again as soon as she was placed down in the hat.
"She's a loud one," Tugger remarked with a slight wince, one hand in the hat to try and soothe the crying queen.
"S-s-sounds like someone I know," Mistoffelees said, then whimpered loudly at the next contraction, dropping his upper body back onto the blanket. This had to be the worst pain so far and he hadn't even had a full minute to rest after the last kitten. "Everlasting! This… this is impossible!"
Tugger crouched low, so their eyes were level. "You're doing great, Misto. Really, you are."
"Piss off," Mistoffelees gasped. "Th-that's easy to say from… from where you're sitting!"
To his credit, Tugger barely reacted to the verbal lashing. He merely waited until the contraction was over and gave his mate a loving nuzzle.
"He's right though, lad," Skimble said from behind him. "You're almost done; only two more little ones for us to meet."
Mistoffelees wearily shook his head. He feared he was nearing his breaking point as the next contraction started; he pushed along with it, though he felt as though he would faint from the exertion as he struggled to get the sixth kitten out.
"I don't know if I can…" Mistoffelees moaned as the pain ended, with no kitten to show for his efforts yet. His arms and legs were starting to wobble under the effort of holding his weight up. "I'm so tired. And it hurts."
"I know it does," Tugger gently said. He reached out and helped steady Mistoffelees, bringing him close to his chest. "Come on, lean into me. You can scratch and bite and yell at me as much as you want. Call me names, if it helps any."
Mistoffelees would have laughed, if he hadn't still been struggling to catch his breath. He buried his face into Tugger's mane, feathering it with his heavy breaths and biting at his mate's fur and skin at the start of another contraction, stifling his howl as he pushed hard. His scream quickly turned into a sob of relief as he felt the familiar, sharp pain of the sixth kitten being born.
"There you are!" Skimble beamed. "Another little queen. You two are going to have your paws full with this litter."
He brought her to Tugger, who dutifully began to wash her clean. Mistoffelees reached up and weakly stroked her; this one was a brown tabby queen, and she kicked out her hind legs against his hand with impressive strength for one so small. He wondered if this was the kitten who had kicked him so harshly in such sensitive places these last few weeks.
Tugger finished cleaning her as she fell to sleep and placed her in the hat with her siblings. The calico queen had either fallen asleep or gotten tired of crying, and now there only came the occasional mew from the hat. Surely they were hungry now; Mistoffelees would have to figure out how to feed them once this ordeal was over.
The job done, Tugger once more placed his arms out to steady his kneeling mate. "One more," he said, licking his face. "And then you're done."
"One… one more," Mistoffelees agreed. One more kitten, and they would have their litter safely born. Then he would be able to rest, and watch and touch and bond with his kittens, and go back to the junkyard where it was safe. The thought lent him a bit of strength and when the next contraction began, he gave a shaky cry and worked to push the last kitten out.
The elation didn't last long, unfortunately, and soon his strength began to drain away. It was hard to judge how much time had passed, as every contraction left him close to unconsciousness now, but the sun had risen again and it seemed like he had been straining for hours with no progress at all.
Tugger was sharing his anxiety; his mate's breathing had quickened and Mistoffelees could hear the loud, nervous thumping of his heart against his ear. Demeter had crawled back to sit by the hatful of kittens but she too was staring at him with worry in her eyes.
When Mistoffelees turned his head, slowly and painfully, to look over his shoulder towards Skimble, the orange tabby's deep frown seemed to be an indication that things were not going right.
Even Munkustrap, still standing sentry on the windowsill, reacted to the tension. He was no longer staring out through the window, but instead looked worriedly in their direction, his tail lashing in agitation.
"Skimble, is something wrong?" Tugger asked, breaking the tense silence. He was trying to keep his tone nonchalant, but Mistoffelees could sense the underlying worry. "It's been so long for this one."
"The lad's just exhausted," Skimble said evenly. "But we're getting there. Just a bit more effort, Misto, and you'll be finished."
He certainly felt finished, Mistoffelees thought. He buried his head back into Tugger's chest to muffle his scream as the next contraction came hard and fast, whole body trembling as he pushed. There came the familiar pressure low in his pelvis, the familiar sharp pain between his legs, and for a glorious moment he expected to hear the cry of a kitten. But there came no sound yet.
"Is it… is it out?" Mistoffelees panted. He felt Skimble's hands on his lower back, gently pushing his tail out of the way.
"Not… quite yet," Skimble said.
Mistoffelees figured Skimble must have pulled a face; Tugger's hold tightened around him and he urgently asked, "What's wrong?"
"Kittens usually come out with their heads first, that's the easy way. But not this one, it seems. All I see here is a little tail."
Mistoffelees whimpered, his exhaustion momentarily overshadowed by fear. "What does that mean?"
"It just… it just means we'll need to work a little harder to get this one out. Don't worry, I've seen this before; the same thing happened when Jemima was born, and she turned out just fine, didn't she?" Skimble lightened his tone and gave Mistoffelees a small pat on the back. "There's a contrary one in every litter, you know."
"There's no doubting that litter is yours, Tugger," Munkustrap good-humoredly said from his spot on the window. "That kitten's not even born yet, and it's already being headstrong."
Tugger laughed sheepishly. "I'm sorry, Misto."
Mistoffelees could only moan; he would find the energy to laugh when this was all over.
"All right, Tugger," Skimble said. "Help him to lie down again. On his back, that'll be best—that's right."
Mistoffelees didn't resist as he was made to sink back down onto the blanket, though it brought the aches back in his body. The kneeling position had been more comfortable and had seemed to help the kittens move along, so why was he being moved now?
"Demeter," Skimble said, softly but urgently. "I'm going to need your help here. Misto… rest for a moment, you're going to need your strength."
Mistoffelees whimpered. He was ready for the pain to stop, he was ready to sleep; all he wanted was for this last kitten to be born safely so it could all end. Tugger gently caressed his ears, his gaze focused on the action as Demeter left her spot next to the hat of mewling kittens and crawled over to assist.
"Here," Skimble was saying, taking Demeter's hand. Mistoffelees watched with a worried frown as he directed her hand over his stomach, pressing against the softening swell low on his pelvis until he seemed to find what he was looking for. Mistoffelees couldn't help but wince; the pressure was hugely uncomfortable.
"Feel that?" At Demeter's nod, Skimble said, "What you're feeling are the head and the shoulders. Keep your hand there. When he pushes the next time, you'll need to push too."
"Are you sure this will work?" Demeter nervously asked.
Despite Skimble's efforts, Mistoffelees could see the doubt in his eyes. "This is what Jenny had me do when this happened to her," he said. "And it worked just fine, so this should work too. Misto, we're just going to help your kitten along, so tell us when you feel another-"
He told them clearly enough, screaming breathlessly as the next contraction struck. There was an agonizing pressure on his belly as Demeter pressed down; he struggled to push as hard as his waning strength allowed, and panted hoarsely as the pain ebbed.
"Is… is it…" Mistoffelees gasped.
"Once more," Skimble said. Mistoffelees glanced down; Skimble had hold of something, and in his foggy state, it took Mistoffelees a second to realize he was carefully grasping the kitten's hind legs. "One more push should do it. Misto, whenever you're ready…"
Mistoffelees scrambled to hold Tugger's hand and only managed to sink his claws deep into his mate's arm at the coming of the next contraction. He couldn't help but cry out, consumed by the pain and the awful sensation of the pressure on his stomach. With a final burst of effort, the last kitten was born at last, sliding free from his body with the little extra help.
"There you go, there you go," Skimble said. "All done! And it's another little queen for you two."
Mistoffelees went limp into the blanket; all he wanted was to sob with relief. He waited for the kitten to be brought closer so he could see it, but something felt wrong, and it took a few seconds to realize what was happening: the kitten wasn't mewling, or squealing, or making a single sound.
Tugger caught on as well. "She's not crying."
"What?" Demeter said. She had removed her hand from Mistoffelees' stomach and now rested it against his shoulder. "Why not? Skimble, what's going on?"
"She had a difficult time being born," Skimble said softly, staring down at the kitten. "She may not be strong enough to start breathing."
"No, don't… don't let her die," Mistoffelees whispered brokenly. "Do something!"
Ignoring the profound ache in his body, he hoisted himself up onto one elbow to see the kitten cradled in Skimble's arms; the small queen was completely black, with the exception of a tiny whitish mane around her neck and chest. But whereas the other kittens had kicked and squirmed and cried seconds after their birth, she laid limp and unresponsive in Skimble's hands.
Beside him, Tugger sprung into a crouch, staring at the quiet kitten. "So what do we do?" he urgently asked. "How do we help her? Damn it, come on!"
"I… I don't know," Skimble said. For the first time, there was an edge of panic to his voice. "Kittens have birth fluids in their throats when they're born. This wee one might be too weak and small to cough it up. Jenny might know what to do… but I've never seen this before."
"Tugger!" Mistoffelees cried. He had no strength or will to keep the tears from coming. His kitten was in distress; his kitten was going to die, and he didn't know what to do to save her.
He wondered why his mate didn't look on the verge of breaking down, as he was. Instead, Tugger got a steely, determined look in his eyes and carefully took the kitten from Skimble, holding her close to his face.
"She needs to breathe, so we help her breathe!"
Under the panicked gaze of the others, Tugger carefully pried his daughter's mouth open and covered it with his own. Still hazy, Mistoffelees didn't quite understand what he meant to do, until he pulled away and spat out fluid onto the floor.
The house was deathly silent. Tugger repeated the motion, forcing air in and out of the kitten's body and receiving another mouthful of fluid in the process, which made him gag and spit on the carpet again. After he did it for a third time, the tiny queen suddenly gave a start and her tail began to twitch.
Mistoffelees gasped, blinking through his tears. Tugger drew back from the kitten and stared at her intently as she slowly began to squirm in his hands, and finally started to weakly mewl.
"She's crying," Mistoffelees whispered.
Stunned, Skimble glanced from the revived kitten to Tugger, awe on his face. "Well, how about that… Tugger, that was astounding."
Demeter had her hands over her mouth, on the verge of tears herself. "Oh, Everlasting…"
"See, Misto? She's fine," Tugger said. He quickly bit the cord away from the kitten's stomach and lowered her to Mistoffelees' level so he could see her, touch her, and see for himself that she was alive and breathing, if only a little weak. "She's fine."
Mistoffelees took her in his arms and gently petted her damp head fur; she rolled her head about and nudged at him with her wet nose, her tiny pink mouth opening and closing as her raspy cries became stronger.
"You scared us," he whispered to the kitten, then looked up at his mate. "Tugger, I can't believe you did that. Are you sure you're not magical too?"
"Just artful," Tugger grinned, slumping down wearily on the blanket next to Mistoffelees. He grimaced and wiped at his mouth. "Ech. But I'm never doing that again."
With a tired laugh, Mistoffelees rolled back onto the blankets and handed their daughter back to Tugger. Munkustrap had leapt down from the window at some point during the panic and stood just over Skimble's shoulder, though still keeping a respectful distance away from the new family.
Tugger very gently pulled the hat closer so Mistoffelees could see their litter. "Seven kittens, right out of a hat," he said. "Now this is magical."
Mistoffelees smiled wearily and peered inside the hat. The eldest kitten, the white-and-brown one, was asleep at one end of the hat; the tuxedo queen was curled into a tight little ball and pressed close to him. The black queen with the golden patches had somehow managed to roll onto her back and made kneading motions at the air. At her side, the spotted brown tom was awake, mewling questioningly at nothing in particular. The calico queen, the loud screamer, had finally fallen asleep, though the brown tabby queen was nudging at her side.
The youngest, tiniest kitten of the litter was still in Tugger's arms. He seemed reluctant to let go of her, as though she might slip away at any moment, though her short, insistent little mews were getting stronger and stronger. Finally, he placed her within the hat, between the spotted tom and the calico, where she would be warmest until they could get back home.
"Thank you for helping, Skimble," Mistoffelees murmured.
"No worries at all," Skimble said with a smile. "I can't wait to tell Jenny all about this when we get home!"
"Speaking of which," Munkustrap said. "Is it safe to move Mistoffelees and the kittens now? We should head back to the junkyard as soon as possible, in case Macavity…"
"Of course," Skimble nodded, and leapt to his feet. "Come on, lads. Let's get ready to go home."
Mistoffelees shrank back into the blanket, wary at the thought of having to move. The pains had stopped after the birth of the last kitten, but he was dreadfully sore inside and out, and so exhausted that it was becoming difficult to keep his eyes open to watch the others rising up.
Tugger had one hand on Mistoffelees' chest and the other on the rim of the hat, as though debating which charge to carry.
"Tugger," Munkustrap said, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Carry your kittens; they need to be close to their father. I'll take care of Mistoffelees."
He was grateful that Munkustrap wrapped the blanket around him first; blood and fluids still clung to his fur and the last thing he wanted was to be paraded exposed all the way back to the junkyard, and in front of the curious Jellicles, before he had a chance to recover a bit and groom himself. Munkustrap was as gentle as possible as he gathered the small tom in his arms and lifted him up, though Mistoffelees couldn't help but whimper softly as his body was jarred.
Tugger had been staring at him, as though wanting to be sure he was all right before focusing his attention on the kittens. He anchored his claws carefully into the fabric of the hat and lifted it up so very slowly so as not to disturb the sleeping kittens or upset the ones who were still awake and mewling.
A gentle nuzzle from Demeter made Mistoffelees look up briefly and smile. Together, they stepped out from the broken front window of the house and into the mid-morning sunlight.
Mistoffelees wondered for a terrible moment if Macavity would be out there somewhere, still wounded but thinking of revenge. But he couldn't smell or sense a thing from the Hidden Paw or his hench-cats, and as the small group set a hurried pace away from Elmsmere Way, Mistoffelees sank into Munkustrap's chest with a tired sigh.
"Sleep if you want," Munkustrap said. "You're safe; the kittens are safe. We'll be home soon."
With one last glance towards Tugger, who carefully carried the hat and stared down at the kittens inside with a proud grin, Mistoffelees finally gave in to his exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep against the protector's chest.
The kittens are here! At last! Poor Misto, that was a long labour.
The breech birth was semi-based on a true story and the helping technique was something I actually witnessed first-hand. Both mother and kitten were fine in the end, as in this story.
Thank you for reading! We're not quite done yet.