Happiness Comes in Many Shapes {open to the public}

Breezebranch purred softly, having a wonderful night sleep. She had to admit, the nursery was wonderfully warm and comfortable. She'd easily had one of the best night's sleep yet. She tilted her head further onto her fluffy tail, as it was extremely warm. Ah, this was wonderfully blissful. That was until the first kick came. She thought nothing of it, until a horrible pain seized her. She gasped in shock, "Oh! S-somebody get Mi-mistedsong-g!" She yowled, breathing raspy. She attempted to stand, but fell back over. Another queen woke up and saw this. Ushering her own kits out, she then proceeding to shoo away Lionpaw and Icekit. "You'll be fine, dear. I'll go get Mistedsong!" The queen told her, rushing out to then medicine den. She yowled for the medicine cat then went to join the kits over by the elders den.

Breezebranch writhed in pain and lay panting. Oh stars, where was Mistedsong?

A bundle of cream colored fur burst into the nursery, tripping over a nest and scattering the herbs that had been brought with it. Mistedsong cursed and quickly gathered what he'd dropped, anxiety visible throughout his whole form. He mentally ran over the list of herbs in his head to make sure he'd found it all- borage, burnet, chervil, fennel, raspberry leaves, and thyme for the shock. The small tom hurried over to the queen, panting a little. "I'm here, sorry about that- I've got a variety of herbs for you if you're okay to try to swallow them, and-"

The medicine cat paused, scuttling back over to the entrance of the nursery where he'd forgotten the stick, and brought it over to the queen. "And a stick to bite if you need." He padded closer to Breezebranch, pressing his paws to her belly as gently as he could to hopefully prevent putting her in more pain. "I knew you were having a lot of kits but.. if I'm not wrong I'm counting six."

Silverstar's ears perked as he heard his clanmate yowl in pain. He rushed over to the nursery and widened his eyes at the sight. "Breezebranch, Mistedsong?" he speedwalked over to the two. His eyes blinked and narrowed at the scene before him, but he did his best to remain calm. The tom looked over towards Mistedsong, "Is everything alright?"

The tortoiseshell-tabby swung her broad head around to face Mistedsong. She thankfully lapped up the herbs that the medicine cat gave her. Oh, she was going to have six kits? Wait- SIX KITS!? Woah, that's a lot of kits. Lionpaw and Icekit would be thrilled! She looked up as Silverstar walked in, and was able to answer when a spasm of pain hit her. Stars, she'd known it would hurt but not like this.

---

Once the kitting was done, Breezebranch was exhausted. All six of her kits had been born and were living. Five beautiful daughters and one son. How beautiful. Her oldest kit, her charming son, looked so much like her sister. Maplekit had never had a proper chance to live, perhaps now she would. "Maplekit is your name, dear." She murmured as she liked his head.

Two of her daughters fought pushing against each other for her milk, their tortoiseshell pelts blending together. "Acornkit, and Brindlekit." She touched each with of her daughters. For Acornmask, my mentor. And Brindleface, your aunt.

"Lilykit. After my only living relative from my mother, Streamlily." Lilykit looked exactly like Breezebranch did herself. It made her smile. She turned to her second youngest, a she-kit that was two shades of brown and white. She squealed and kicked, making Breezebranch purr with amusement. "Swiftkit." You'll be as fast as your father.

Finally, she turned to her smallest daughter. "Mudkit." She decided firmly. Oh, Mudmask would be so proud. She would love each of these kits dearly.

Maplekit had let out a vicious yowl as soon as he'd be born - he was pretty big for a kit, but seemed off with his delicate futures, and seemed so un-male like other than his size. The dappled kit jerked his paws into the air, batting away any of those close by him unintentionally. Sucking in a deep breath, he jerked his body forward, toward the curve of his mother's belly, and latched on rather roughly.

A purr jerked from him, kneading his mother's soft belly, his claws softly grazing her skin. Maplekit seemed quite a fighter, despite his soft kit fur.

Swiftkit was drinking from her mom while trying to mew. She couldn’t hear anything around her so mewed louder, not hearing that either. She started she mew really loud as she freaked out.

(LOUUDDDDD)

The tortoiseshell kit squealed. Her small voice rang out across the nursery. She started to drink milk, filling with warmth. She heard a voice, a sweet, beautiful tone, talking. It didn’t sound like anything yet, but it was comforting.She heard loud, frantic mewing and pressed against her mother, filled with fear. Resting against the pelt that looked so much like her own, she closed her eyes and started to drift into a soft sleep. She was warm, happy, full, and safe. If only she could say this way forever.

Pitched squeals emitted from her mouth, wafting feebly into the atmoshpere, subdued from the clash of noise. Muffled wails, muted by thrashing warmth beside her. It had been a transient moment of contentment, the floundering mass shielding her from the frigid environment. But, the transition was swift, as her littermates inched closer towards the aura of comfort, abandoning her in her own space.


Her instincts propelled her forward, towards the fuzziness, the feeling of bliss. Lured by the potent scent of milk, she crawled, lurched, stumbled closer. There they were... it was so close! As her siblings huddled around, blocking her path, the she-kit knew she had found the source of the intoxicating aroma. The trail had lead her to her mother's belly, and here she was triumphant.. yet it seemed like she had been one of the last to arrive. Letting out a querulant mewl, whining at the lack of space, she tried shoving her way in. It was a futile attempt, and after a while it seemed like all she had managed to achieve was to get herself stuck under the weight of her siblings. Burrowed under, cries of displeasure hushed by her littermates, her limbs floundered as she fought for just a little space. Brindlekit struck at her siblings, hitting the newly-named Acornkit with her petite paws, mewing in desperation as she tried so hard to just get a taste. As their slick tortoiseshell pelts jolted against each other, she finally seemed to have escaped from the mess.

It was cold.

Before, Mudkit had been warm. She'd been a bit crowded both then and now, but she had been warm. Now she was cold. Weak mews tumbled from her maw, spilling out into the already noise filled environment. She sensed her littermates moving away from her, taking their warmth with her, her instincts told her to move forward, but she stubbornly stayed rooted. Perhaps whatever force that had taken her from her warmth would put her back if she stayed still. After about three heartbeats, the mainly white she-kit got impatient. She was about to follow her siblings and instincts when a paw thwacked her.

And that was not going down well with her.

Yowling loudly, she thwacked the tortoiseshell back. But the tortoiseshell just kept going. Farther and farther away from.... The warmth? The tiny kit flailed around, catching her sister, Brindlekit's, tail under her tiny kitten paws. She hadn't meant to; she just didn't want to find the warmth on her own and hoped her flailing would make the warmth come to her.

Mudkit proceeded to mew and yowl until a soft, gentle white tipped paw gently pushed her and the tortoiseshell she'd thwacked towards a warmth source. Her mother! The milk scent was addicting, and Mudkit knew she'd need it. She just had to have it. "There, there, little ones. There is enough for you all, dears." A soft, silk-smooth voice whispered to them. And like magic, there was room. Siblings pushed aside now to make room for the she-kits, Mudkit dove forward.

And there was milk. Yowls were immediately silenced. Oh, this was good. Her small paws kneaded, trying to get as much of this life fluid as she could. This was much better. Now she was warm.

Silverstar's eyes widened as he saw the six kits. He smiled a bit at the sight of them. That small joy quickly faded as internal icy winds battered his soul until he surrendered the bit of happiness, and with the joy, the smile went as well. He turned towards Mistedsong. "Will we be able to keep them all healthy until they're apprenticed?" he quietly asked.

Mistedsong breathed a sigh of relief; the kitting was done, and all six kits seemed to be healthy and lively. He smiled softly in response to Breezebranch's naming. She was already a wonderful adoptive mother, and it was clear that she would be just as great of a biological mother as well. However, the grey tom's face fell at Silverstar's words. "Everything seems to be as it should be with each kit for the moment, but beyond that only time will tell," he meowed to his leader. "I'll do my best to keep them as healthy as possible, but it's in the paws of StarClan."

He had been sleeping by Breezebranch's side, along with his adopted brother, before they had both been booted out of the nursery -  kicked to the curb before they even knew what was happening. Lionpaw had been residing in there, taking care of his mother and making sure she was comfortable at all times - after all, it's not like his mentor would miss him, she was his mentor. As the tom's ears and body adjusted to the freezing temperature outside of the nursery, they very quickly picked up her yowling and agonised screeches, and watched with wide eyes as Mistedsong stumbled over to the warm den he had been in moments before. The apprentice's claws sunk into the earth beneath him, especially as his clan leader made his way into the den, and he was supposed to just wait outside!

Anxiety radiated from the young tom's pelt, and he forced himself to stand, rather than become a stone outside the nursery listening to her wails. Lionpaw began to pace, both in an attempt to fight away the sting of the cold and the chattering of his teeth, and also in a last-ditch attempt to distract himself from the absolute terror of losing Breezebranch much in the same way he lost his own mother. Flamefur.. I never had a chance to meet you, but please take care of Breeze. Please, he choked on his own silent prayer to the stars that glittered high above his head, and despite the cave providing cover from them he knew his prayer had been heard.

Almost moments later the wails stopped, and so did his heart. Terror blinded him, and he pushed his way into the nursery, past his leader and medicine cat, to find Breezebranch alive and well, along with six kittens. Six whole siblings. He blinked apologetically at the authority figures he had somewhat disrespected, really hoping that they'd understand his fear and let this one mishap slip. Although, as he watched his new siblings squirm and mewl their little hearts out, he realised he would take any punishment, feeling so grateful he got to be here, to see them take their first breaths in the world.

Affection brimming in the young toms heart, he let the purr building in his chest burst out, and he tuned out the speech of the two toms behind him, instead watching Brindlekit crawl the wrong way. Oh little sister, wrong way, Lionpaw reached out a paw to gently guide her back to Breezebranch, though he didn't dare interfere with the other five kits that had latched onto her. He ran his tongue over the top of her head, attempting to smooth the ruffled fur on it much in the same way she had done for him just weeks ago. She had never confided who the father was, and it didn't bother him one bit, as he had vowed to protect these kits with every breath in his body. 

They may not have a father, but they sure had a brother.

Silverstar nodded in responce to Mistedsong, "StarClan would never let anything happen to these kits," he replied, trying to sooth his own thoughts more than hers. After Lionpaw ran after his adoptive mother, seemingly with pure terror, he didn't scold the apprentice. In fact, Silverstar just fell silent at how Lionpaw was fearing for his mother's life. It reminded him of when he felt the same about his own, but between the two, Lionpaw was the lucky one. The memory caused a small flash of sadness in his eyes to appear, but only for a split second. He quickly shook the memory away before looking at the apprentice again. "Lionpaw..." he paused before sighing. He blinked as he stared at him and the newborn kits before he closed his eyes, "...Just... keep your family safe..."

With that, he turned around and walked out of the nursery.

Luckily for the inhabitants of SkyClan who didn't wish to be disturbed by the plethora of squawks and wailing exuded by Breezebranch's many newborns, Acornkit was relatively quiet. Unluckily for all of her siblings who happened to be within reach, the little tortoiseshell she-kit seemed intent on kicking anyone and everyone who appeared to be even remotely close. Completely unaware of the rather somber conversation transpiring between Silverstar and Mistedsong, Acornkit valiantly continued in her little quest for bloodshed, even after a surprisingly powerful kick to some unfortunate littermate or another sent her promptly sprawling on her side.

Lilykit mewed annoyedly as she was pushed aside by Acornkit. She continued to fight her way through, not noticing any other cats in the nursery besides her mother and her siblings. Suddenly, she saw a larger figure, not as big as Breezebranch, but not as small as her littermates. She looked at him, a little confused and scared, but the way he and Breezebranch calmly interacted soothed her fears. She knew that her mother would never interact with someone bad. She continued crawling towards the milk. She wasn’t too concerned about the other cats. As she reached the milk, she sighed happily as she started to drink it, next to some of her siblings.