Chapter 5 - Cycle Twelve, March of the Third Year

"Hey, c'mere little guy… look what I've got!"

Seamus grinned, holding a frond of seeding grass with his mouth above the tiny tom's head, letting him bat at it aimlessly.

"Look at him go, Rowan, he's a born killer!"

Rowan purred, glancing over at Ridgewhisper, who was fast asleep in her nest at the back of the shelter. It was the first truly warm day of spring, and a comfortable breeze wafted through the window with the scent of pollen, grass, and snowmelt.

Unfortunate as Ridgewhiskper's situation was, this was a wonderful time of year to rear kits. They would watch the natural world around them grow as they did, discovering spring, then summer, growing strong before the return of the cold months.

Seamus had somewhat transformed since the kittens had been born, spending any and all of his spare time playing with them or watching over them. It had taken Prown by surprise, the sort of 'pseudo father figure' role he had put forth, his new found energy, his consistent lack of grumpiness with the kits. It was incredibly endearing.

Rowan, on the other paw, had taken to spending most of his time worried for their mother, who had not managed the birthing process well, had bled a lot and was rendered exhausted for the first week after the delivery of her three kittens. Worse, she was tremendously anxious, often pacing around, unable to stand still to nurse them. She cried often, weeping with longing for her mate and her pride, her family.

Seamus and Rowan could show all of the care that they could but in reality, they were simply generous strangers, they hardly knew the young queen, they could not comfort that loneliness inside of her. Rowan had attempted a few times to get Ridgewhisper to open up, out of concern and his own curiosity… though she was especially closed off before the kits had been born. Since then, everyone had been a little too occupied for conversation, aside from a shared gushing over the kittens, or Seamus and Rowan going over business matters.

Rowan fixed his eyes on the tiny, cream coloured tabby and his companion.

"Sandy is certainly shaping up to be quite the fighter, you've got that right." He grinned, despite all of his worries regarding these kittens. "But Quick has got some spunk in her, you watch out Sandy."

Sandy, the second born, a tom, was batting away at the makeshift toy Seamus held, totally ignoring Rowan.

"Someone say Quick?" Mewed the little black she-cat loudly. She was a little smaller than her brother, but had been the first to be born and was very strong. Of course, the kits had all been given proper Pride names using traditional naming conventions, however the herbalist pair had quickly dropped the suffixes in favor of the first parts of their names. Sandykit was Sandy, Quickkit was Quick and the third sibling, a small blue and white tabby tom was technically Aspenkit, though they simply called him Aspen.

There had been a fourth kitten who was born with a respiratory problem, a she-cat, the same cream color as Sandy. She died an hour after being born, heaving and choking as her lungs filled with an uncontrollable, thick fluid. It was a horrific event. Ridgewhisper did not have time to name her while she was living, and refused to offer her a name in death. She had quickly, almost impressively removed herself from the event. They hadn't discussed it, she didn't seem interested in discussing it. He wondered if the death of the fourth born had been the catalyst for Ridgewhisper's anxiousness, as if she were holding in her grief and it was making her body sick. It certainly had to have contributed, if not being the sole cause. He would never bear kits and therefore never know the toll it would take, so he could not assume. Furthermore, he didn't care much to ask her specifics like that. He was much more interested in preserving what little carefreeness she still had left.

They had buried the fourth sibling just in a clearing a little outside the outpost, making her grave with a single, flat slab of limestone. They buried her with rosemary and sage, which they had plenty of, and were considered traditional burial herbs of the pride cats according to Ridgewhisper.

Burying that kitten was the first time he had seen Seamus cry.

"Where's little Aspen?" Meowed Seamus, looking around for the third kitten. Quick had joined her brother in their game, flailing her tiny, inky paws up at Seamus.

"Here!" Mewed the littlest kitten from behind an old, dusty jar long left over from some other party in the outpost. You could only see a little blue-gray tail sticking out from one side of the jar. "I found a … a bug!"

The two other siblings stopped in their tracks, ears perked. Quick's tail even puffed up a little, her hackles rising. It was adorable.

"A bug!" Cried Sandy gleefully, and the two of them bounded over towards where their brother was crouched. They stirred up dust as they scrambled, Quick slamming into the jar before she could get her footing to sneak behind it.

"No, guys, get out of here… ah man, you scared it off." Aspen lunged at his brother, batting him across the face with a sheathed paw. "You're the worst!"

"Hey, cut it out, your momma's asleep." Meowed Rowan, shaking his head. "Poor cat has hardly slept in days…" He directed the second part of his statement at Seamus, pointing his tail subtly at the door.

"Come on you three, let's go outside, it's such a nice day." Seamus suggested, and he led the three of them outside proudly.

Rowan stretched, pushing his feet as far in front of him as he could, yawning. He looked over at Ridgewhisper. Her eyes were wide and alert.

"Damn, you're awake… I'm sorry. I should have made them cut it out earlier." He apologized.

"Rowan, don't be sorry. You're too kind. I'm hardly ever fully asleep these days, I feel as if I live with one ear always listening for my kittens now. Strange how that works."

"I see." Rowan meowed. "Well I'm still sorry. Seamus can be sort of loud too, I'm sure that doesn't help."

She smiled, just a little, her blue gray fur dappled by the light that entered through the window. Her whiskers twitched. "It's okay my friend."

"How are you feeling?"

"I'm doing okay, physically, I think this is perhaps the best day I've had yet. It doesn't make me feel faint to nurse them or walk around, and I've had a small appetite, thank goodness."

"That's so good. I was worried, you've looked frail these past few days." He replied. "Physically… you are fine, what about mentally? How is your mind?"

She was silent, looking at her paws. He walked closer to her and crouched down into a seat, wrapping his tail over his feet, prepared to listen.

"I'm sad, Rowan. I long for Tawnysong… I mean, Tawnystar. Gosh, I left so fast after she became leader I hardly had the chance to adjust to her new name." She sighed. "I wish she could see them. I wish I could tell her everything, about the kitten I lost, about the strength of the other three. I hate to think of her being so in the dark. She's so far away."

"I understand that. It's very hard to miss someone who is distant. My mother and brother are both very close to my heart, but I haven't seen them in a long time since starting this journey with Seamus. I long for them often, I want to tell them about everything that's happened, about my worries and the things that make me content." He continued. "Your Tawnystar, will you tell me about her? I've been so curious about you, about your life outside of this strange situation."

She licked the bottom of her paw, then worked her way up her front leg, all the while thinking.

"Well, it will sound… predictable… but she is my best friend." She meowed. There was a different light in her eyes now, less of a sadness and more of a nostalgia. "She's… very protective, always has been. She's a little older than me, definitely more experienced with almost everything. Hell, she's a leader. I haven't even worked my way onto the council yet. She must be worried sick about us, about me."

She laid down, resting her head on her paws. "She is… she's such a handsome she-cat, she's got this soft, pale ginger fur. It reminds me of the way clouds look in the morning when the light first hits them. She's very tall, athletic, she's got quite a bit of battle scarring… kind of like me."

Rowan glanced at the young she-cat's chest and forelegs. He didn't ever bring it up, because he thought it was rude, but he had taken note of the long lines that cut through her soft blue fur. They seemed well healed, but caused her fur to part at strange angles subtly. If you didn't look up close, you might mistake them for strange fur patterns. The truth was, he'd only noticed them the night she had given birth, while he held a water soaked piece of moss to her lips.

"She's got a similar eye color to me, but lighter, more watery. I think she's gorgeous. I always have."

"You speak of her with so much fondness, I admire it. I'm sure she would say the same things about you." He meant it.

"Do you love anyone, Rowan?" She meowed. The question caught him off guard.

"No." He replied. "Not like that. I long to, some day, but I'm… busy."

"I understand. I'm sorry."

"It's not worth being sorry for, it seems that loving isn't so much better of a deal with all of the hurt it puts cats through." He muttered. "Seamus had a mate. Poor soul died last year, killed by a rogue cat. They never caught who did it. He was… so different after that. He didn't grieve in the conventional sense. Just shut down. At least, until these kittens were born."

"That's horrible, a tragedy." She shook her head. "He's been so good with the kits."

"He has." Rowan replied. "But I'm sure you can understand what I mean. Loving his mate made him so… vulnerable to pain. If he had never loved, he wouldn't have related to that tragedy in the same way. Of course it would have been sad, this cat was a member of our community… but just, different."

"It can hurt, it's true, missing someone can hurt… losing someone hurts even more. But I wouldn't rid myself of it, no matter the turmoil I feel. We will meet again, Tawnystar and I. We will be a family."

He felt a bit of relief at her hopefulness. He had spent a few days worried she would never come back from all of this, and she clearly still suffered, but perhaps the improvement of her physical condition helped with her overall moral subconsciously. He had partially wanted her to speak of her feelings about the dead kitten, when he mentioned Seamus' unconventional grief. Her behaviors regarding the fourth kitten were vaguely reminiscent of his friend in those first days following his mate's murder. He decided he wouldn't push.

"What else do you want to know about me, Rowan?"

Truthfully, Ridgewhisper fascinated him. So much. He thought.

"I'm curious what your duties were like back at your pride, I don't know much about the culture of the pride cats."

She pondered the inquiry.

"Well I was generally on the defensive lines, so if there weren't threats present, I was almost exclusively training. I was a little bit of a grunt. I liked fighting. Running off intruders, helping to handle conflicts here and there with the other prides."

"I see. You… liked fighting?"

"Yes! Well, in a complicated way. I liked the feeling of battle, the rush I would get before it all started, the satisfaction of proving my strength over a larger, more experienced cat."

"That's interesting. Were you not afraid of getting hurt?"

"I was. But you get used to a little pain, a little blood. I was definitely afraid of dying, though, especially when I was younger, weaker and less experienced." She blinked. "But… Being a pride cat makes you sort of wrestle with the concept of death more often than I would imagine is conventional. I've seen my pridemates die in battle, but I have to live with the fact that their deaths were honorable."

He gulped.

"Have you ever killed another cat?"

"Not on the spot. But I maimed a young Tom from the eastern Maple Valley Pride, earlier this year…" She looked at her paws. "Well, I guess he never recovered from his injuries, he died within a couple of weeks. Infection I think, but I never got the details. I think about it sometimes, but it's best for me not to."

Again, the shelter grew full of a stale, dry silence. Rowan kneaded his paws on the wooden floor, pondering what to say next. It was morbid. Of course, he had been subject to many discussions about Seamus's mate's death upon the discovery of the body. That being said, he was not used to this casual sort of death, that event itself had been a massive deal among their community. For Ridgewhisper, a seemingly normal, sweet cat to say she'd caused the death of another cat was… strange to say the very least.

"It's fascinating." He managed.

"Fascinating? What do you mean?" She meowed back at him, cocking her head. "It's our way of life. It's very normal for us."

"I've never fought another cat. I've never even seen a fight between cats aside from friendly wrestling… it's just interesting to imagine a life in which maiming an equal to a point of no recovery is… accepted."

"It's a cultural difference, Rowan, I don't expect you to understand our ways."

Was that condescending?

"I hope you don't think this means I judge you. Quite the contrary, I'm rather impressed at your resilience." He flicked his tail, kneading his paws more. "It makes me feel very small, reminding me how diverse our kingdoms truly are."

She nodded. "It's true, there are all walks of life living in this wilderness. Imagine being a Racoon, how strange that would be!"

"They smell so bad." Rowan wrinkled his nose. "And I'd hate to have all that stuff in my fur, it seems so undignified."

She chuckled. "They look clownish, in my opinion. God, you sound like a pride cat now, speaking of dignity like that!"

"Perhaps there's a little pride in all of us." Rowan agreed.

"I think you might be right." She smiled, sweetly. Rowan felt warmth fill his chest.

"Mommmaaa!" Just like that, their conversation was concluded by the sound of three energetic kittens bounding through the door of the shelter. "Momma, we killed a worm!"

The three kittens, followed by a content looking Seamus padded inside. Ridegwhisper gasped and Rowan laughed out loud. The kits were nearly unrecognizable; they were so covered in dark, loamy mud. They left tracks of earth behind them, and Seamus himself was muddy up to his ankles.

"We may have found a mud puddle."

The air in the shelter became light, almost comical, and the three adult cats could hardly help themself from giggling.

Rowan purred. "Okay, I guess we will each groom one of you."

"Noooo!" They all yowled at once. Quick stuck her tail straight in the air.

"We want to be dirty." She retorted assertively.

Rowan, Ridgewhisper and Seamus all exchanged glances.

The kits barrelled around the shelter, chirping with glee.

"The pride of the mud puddle!" They screeched. "We can do anything!"