Chapter Three: Into the Swampland -Marshfoot
It was a sunny day; perfect for kits to not go and play but rather take a nap and let their tired mother have some time to herself. It had been such a long time since Marshfoot left the camp. Every queen needed a break sometimes, especially the she-cats who had large litters.
Grooming her four tiny kits to sleep, she snuck out quietly from the nursery. It pained her to leave them in the bramble-woven den, but it drove her crazy being with them for days without end, without a walk to stretch the ol' paws.
"Hello, Marshfoot." One of the warriors greeted her as she padded to the exit. "It's a good day for a walk."
"Yes, and a good day to get away from a few kits." She sighed, happy but tired. Marshfoot looked back at the nursery, waiting for her four little bundles to come running out and begging her to come back and play or even tag along and go with her into the forest.
"Would you like to go hunting?" He asked expectantly, making her turn away from the nursery. Toms knew that queens and her kits were inseparable. But he was being persistent.
The long-furred queen hadn't hunted since she moved dens. The prospect of some good hunting excited her. "Of course, Grayclaw."
The queen and warrior padded out of the ShadowClan camp together. The pine trees smelled so fresh and wonderful. Though the scent of milk was comforting to any cat, she missed the pine forest and all the scents that blew through it.
The warmth of the sun seeped into her black fur and warmed her skin. The pads of her paws were pricked by the fallen pine needles. It reminded her of her kit's tiny claws and small teeth. It amazed her that a whole world can change when a queen has her kits. Her little kits were always on her mind now.
They walked over to the marshy part of the territory hoping to catch a frog or two. The hard needley ground turned soft and squishy. Marshfoot relished the sight of the swampy land. The muddy pools, scrubby trees, and tufty grass was her home. After all, it was in her name.
The warrior pointed his tail at a rustling bush. Grayclaw padded ahead to the scrubby tree and stalked the bird that hopped around in it. The silver tom sniffed the air. Then he worked his way around so his scent wouldn't be caught. Grayclaw waited for it to hop down onto the roots where bugs were crawling around. The bird flapped down onto the ground right in front of his nose. Get it! She said in her head. He stretched out his paws and caught it before it even realized he was there. He bit it and it went limp.
"Good catch." She meowed, padding over to him. "Now it's my turn."
Grayclaw purred and set down the tiny bird. "Show me you aren't kitten soft."
"Ha!" She waved her feathery black tail across his nose. "Queens are still warriors."
Marshfoot sloshed through the puddles, determined to catch a frog which could be slippery and more difficult to catch sometimes. She loved the mud squishing between her toes and how her fur skimmed across the water.
When she found a pool where bugs were skipping and swimming, she crouched down in the mud and waited for a frog to hop into her paws. Grayclaw watched from a distant, waiting to be impressed by the queen.
A tiny green creature hopped around on the dry patches of dirt. Marshfoot wiggled her haunches and prepared to leap from the water. Suddenly, a bird flew overhead and squawked, causing the frog to leap way from the queen.
Frustrated, she pounced after it. Her jump was sluggish and she landed clumsily. The frog jumped away into another pool. As Marshfoot pursued the slippery critter, she could hear her companion hackling with laughter.
She frolicked through the mud like a kit. Queens could only watch their own children play and warriors were supposed to carry out their duties. It was wishful thinking for the Clans to let their cats have more free time. But prey had to be caught and borders had to be marked.
Her heart was soaring as she playfully gave chase to the prey. She would do almost anything to be a kit again! It would be wonderful if Grayclaw would be her playmate, but he must have been too busy laughing at her foolishness.
Finally, after running in a circle around a scrub, she caught the frog in her claws. Now that the chase was over, she felt her heart slow down. Marshfoot looked up. Grayclaw had spotted another bird despite all the noise she had just made. The queen took his signal to be quiet as he stalked the feathery morsel. The queen picked up her prey.
She stepped lightly to make her way back to camp. But the frog had dropped from her mouth in a slick struggle. It hopped away madly. The she-cat was so used to carrying live scraps that she had forgotten to make kill of the fresh-kill!
Careful not to disturb her friend's hunting, she padded after the frog, her bat-like ears laid down to her head. Maybe she wouldn't kill it. Maybe she would take it back to camp live for her kits to hunt. Maybe she would if it didn't get away!
Marshfoot hopped into a thick pool of mud. The slimy frog was slipping away! She nabbed at it with her teeth, barley missing its leg. Mouse-dung! I was too busy playing and now I don't have anything to bring back.
She gave up after it had dove into a puddle and swam away in the murky hiding spots of the marsh. The queen sighed and turned to go back.
"Huh?" Her paws wouldn't move.
The mud was clinging to her fur like burrs in a badger's belly. Marshfoot took a deep breath and pulled her legs out. But she remained in the mud. Her heart began to race. Was she s-sinking? She felt her body slowly blend into the ground.
"H-help!" She squeaked fearfully.
Two paws, those whom did not belong to her, stretched out from the mud. The claws scratched at her and then gripped her legs. At the surface of the pool was a pair of blue haunting eyes.
"GRAYCLAW!" She yowled. Oh Starclan! Stop this nightmare!
The gray warrior raced over to her, the bird long gone in the sky. "What's wrong?"
A voice whispered into her ears, "The givers of life, one of each Clan, shall brighten and lead the way out of darkness and to the stars." It sent chills down her spine. The poor queen was almost starting to get a panic shock.
Grayclaw came up from behind her, eyes widened in confusion. "Mar-"
Marshfoot bowled him over and curled up in his belly fur. She pressed her muzzle into his shoulder and whimpered feebly. Surprised, he stroked her with his tail and whispered comforting words of which she could not hear. What in StarClan happened?
"Hey, what's going on?" A feminine voice called out though the marshes.
"Cloudbreeze!" Grayclaw meowed, raising his head and tail. "Over here."
The white she-cat and her brother, a silvery tom named Puddlesplash, rushed to their side. Marshfoot still had her face buried in Grayclaw's shoulder. They tried to coax her to stand up, but she refused.
Puddlesplash went off to fetch the medicine cat while the queen continued to hide in the hold of the gray warrior. It was awful. It was so awful. Those eyes were awful.
Marshfoot suddenly scrambled up to her paws. "My kits!" She couldn't let the monster get her kits.
Cloudbreeze and Grayclaw exchanged looks. They got up to their paws and ran after the frightened queen back to camp. The medicine cat and Puddlesplash were close to being run over by Marshfoot. They dodged out of her way just in time.
Ignoring her bewildered Clanmates, she went straight to the nursery. Where were they? Her kits? Her heart was beating in anxiety. Where were they?
"Blackkit? Pinekit?" She mewed frantically. The other two queens had gone back to their warrior duties when their kits were apprenticed. It was mouse-brained of her to leave without having another cat watch over them.
"Juniperkit?" Marshfoot sniffed around the corners of the nursery. "Softkit?"
Her nest was empty and kitless. They were a reckless bunch and they could have run off. Or, the monster could have taken them. Marshfoot collapsed on the soft earth. The feeling of the icy cold mud wrapping around her legs... the bright menacing eyes appearing like an omen.
"Oh no." She whispered to herself. "I'm a queen! I can't have StarClan send me a stupid prophecy now. I have kits."
With that, she stood up shakily. Marshfoot hobbled out of the nursery. The ShadowClan cats were staring at her as if she had fox noses sticking out of her ears and a badger head coming out of her butt.
"Marshfoot," the leader was standing on the Clanrock. Four fluffy scraps of fur was hanging from her pelt. "I found your kits."
"Oh." The black she-cat padded over, her pelt burning in embarrassment. Why had StarClan sent the burden of a prophecy to her? Couldn't they have sent the prophecy to a different 'giver of life'?
I mean, come on! I have four kits here! You really think I can take care of four scraps AND fulfill a prophecy? She yelled madly at her warrior ancestors silently as she pulled each of her kits of the once dignified leader.
