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| - Flamedapple took a breath of the cold, fresh air. Silverpelt seemed to be outlined in the indigo sky, in and intricate curving pattern, as snowflakes floated down to the frosty earth. She looked back down at her smoky gray pelt. It ruffled in the soft breeze. Her belly swelled outwards, between her forelegs. Gingerly, she gave it a lick. She felt a feeble squirm from within. Her kits were supposedly going to come any day then, and she was ordered to remain in the nursery. But it was hot and stifling in there, and she was tossing and turning, as she had been restless for days. Berryleaf, the DewClan medicine cat, refused to let her leave. And Grayclaw was constantly fussing over her, so there was hardly any escape. Flamedapple gazed upwards again. That night was her chance. She had easily snuck out of the nursery, and slipped through the dirtplace tunnel. While Adderflight wasn't looking, of course. Classic. I'm surprised he didn't catch me. But just for that time, she would enjoy the nippy air through her pelt, and the downy flakes drifting through the night. The once-grassy hills were now covered in a fluffy white sheet. As Flamedapple settled down in the snow, not minding the cold, her legs began to grow heavy. Her amber eyes drifted half-closed. The world became a land of white, as she lost herself in a deep reverie. A world where no one fights, and no one cries. Where mates stay in love forever and queens actually get to choose to have kits or not... Guilt washed over her. She already loved the unborn lives with all her heart, but she could only imagine what her life would be like if she wasn't expecting. She could even be deputy of DewClan! Flamedrapple drifted off again, no longer caring if she dozed off in the peaceful snow. Suddenly, a jolt of pain broke her off from her utopia. She instantly shot to her paws. Her stomach was sore all over, and her legs wobbled. Resisting the urge to yowl in pain, she whipped around, and began to dart in the direction of the camp. No, no, no. Now of all times? Flamedapple finally crashed through the bushes, and into the woods, where camp was stationed. Another jolt of agony passed through her body. She gritted her teeth; that time, she nearly fainted. Ungracefully, she toppled over. She contracted. But camp isn't far now! If she reached it, Berryleaf could give her help, and she would at least be warm. And so will my kits. Like the fighter she was, she dragged herself to her paws once again. She was able to get a few paces, but then collapsed once again, this time in a snow drift. The flakes at least provided some padding for her as she convulsed. Flamedapple screeched in pain, hoping someone would hear and come to her aid. But no one did. The first kit was born dead. He had a silver pelt, just like his father's. A tear slithered from Flamedapple's eye, as she gazed upon the lifeless body. The next kit was also born dead; it was a smoky gray she-cat, just like her. She settled back down, waiting for the next jolt. But it never came. More tears flowed, as she realized her situation. But even out of eyes blurred with tears, she could see the gray she-cat twitch. Her neck instantly snapped up, and she ceased her grieving. Fast as lightning, she was at the kit's side, rasping her tongue over the little life. At first, Flamedapple didn't think that she would pull through, for she was cold and her breathing was unnaturally shallow. But finally, she squeaked and wriggled to Flamedapple's belly to suckle. She purred as she watched her singular kit. She looked up and meeped. "Hello, Dimkit," Flamedapple purred. That is your name in honor of this dark night, and your beautiful coat. The snow began to fall thicker and faster. Without a second thought, she buried her deceased kit, and picked Dimkit up by the scruff. Slowly, she padded back to camp, her heart heavy with grief yet buoyant with joy. ~***~ The scent of herbs wafted over the breeze, as Thistlestep swiftly sorted through his old herbs. "Good, good..." he mumbled, then sniffed a somewhat dark green wilted leaf. "Yuck." It got flung into the pile of rejects. Using a large leaf, he wrapped up the stinky, old herbs and began to push them out of the medicine den with his nose and paws. "Hi, Thistlestep!" Frostpaw mewed cheerfully, "Do you want me to take those out into the forest?" "I got it," he grumbled. Frostpaw's tail drooped, and her ears lay flat. "Okay," she pouted. You think she would be happy that she doesn't have to be dragging smelly leaves out of camp! Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mistpoppy's pale form outlined against the sunset light. Her belly swelled with unborn lives. The kits were going to be born any time soon; but he thought that he could just go into the forest for a little while. He disposed of the leaves under a bush, where they wouldn't bother any other cat, as he watched the sun slip down below the horizon, and out of sight. The night was dark. Thistlestep enjoyed the peace and quiet. Frostpaw curiously peered out of the SilverClan camp entrance. Thistlestep wasn't back yet. He must be enjoying the nice night. And think that I nearly had a chance to escape the stuffy camp! Instead, she slinked to the fresh-kill pile, and grasped a pigeon in her jaws. Her mouth watered. Suddenly, a wail rose up. "What's going on?" Daisystem called out. Frostpaw sprung to her paws. No, not when Thistlestep is gone! For even an inexperienced medicine cat apprentice, such as Frostpaw, would know that Mistpoppy was kitting. Frostpaw rushed into the nursery, her mind whirling. Which herbs did she need, and where were they? She sniffed at each pile, in a panic. I've only been apprenticed for nearly a moon! I can't help a queen with kitting! Okay, calm yourself, and find a good place to start. Frostpaw spotted the clear little pool in the corner of the den. A kitting queen would definitely need some water-drenched moss that she could drink. She collected some water and dashed into the clearing. "Frostpaw! Mistpoppy's kitting!" Stonemist shouted to her as she ran through. Swiftly, she dropped the moss on the clearing. "He's off in the forest somewhere. Please send some warriors to find him!" She furrowed her brow, hoping she wouldn't regret her next words. "And I will be fine until then. I promise everything will be okay." Stonemist blinked his thanks, and dragged Daisystem into the forest in search of the absent medicine cat. Frostpaw brought the moss in for Mistpoppy. She lay on her side, panting heavily. Her flank rippled with every contraction. Dear StarClan, how am I supposed to do this? She pushed the moss in front of Mistpoppy's nose. She gasped her thanks, and sank her teeth into it. A stick. A stick to bite when the pain comes. She darted out of the den, and fetched a lumpy, deformed stick from the side of the clearing. It wasn't anything fancy, but it would do. After that, she zipped back into the nursery, and assisted Mistpoppy. She would bring in additional herbs, but she didn't want to give her the wrong thing. If she did, it could cost Mistpoppy her life. So she placed a paw on her flank, and said, "Okay, um... push now!" The sound of the stick splintering echoed through the air, as she pushed the first kit out. Finally, four kits lay by her side. Stonemist sat by her side, his eyes tearing. "--And this one will be Flamekit," Mistpoppy finished. Thistlestep burst in, panicked, and panting. "Is everything all right?" "Yeah," Frostpaw said proudly. "I am so sorry," Thistestep sighed, "I was out in the forest, enjoying the night. I didn't think that... that it would just happen like that." "Well, it looks like Frostpaw dealed with it fine," Stonemist mewed. She swelled with pride. "Congratulations, Frostpaw. An excellent job, and I am very proud of you. Just know that I will be expecting great things from you now. Oh, and speaking of which, did you give Mistpoppy any borage yet?" Thistestep mewed. "Oh--er--no," she admitted, embarrassed. Thistlestep purred, and bounded into the moonlit night. "I'll go get some." ~**~ The night made her shiver, as the wind ruffled her fur. A singular kit dangled from her jaws. She had given birth at around moonhigh, to two healthy kits. But this one had to go. It was just the way that Moonpelt, the medicine cat gasped and looked at him. He was an exact replica of the evil Birchstar, who's reign had just ended. But he wasn't the father! A tear slipped down her cheek. But maybe Moonpelt had looked at him like that, because it meant something more. Such an exact replica of Birchstar, without him being a father, could only be an evil omen. Gingerly, she set the mewling tom down on the ground. His smoky gray pelt blended in with the night. But his white chest, ears and tail stood out in the starlight. "Goodbye, Streamkit," she whispered, then padded away. Streamkit didn't know if he could stand the cold much longer. He mewed. "Mama! Mama!" he cried out. But no one answered him but the howling wind. Slowly, he dragged himself into a patch of grass sheltered by a branch, just so he could survive the night. Four kits, all born at midnight, with unusual births... unusual destinies. And this can only spell trouble....
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