TW: Mates arguing / fighting, bodily injury, illness, death. SRP | ■■■■■■■ | she/her | 19 moons She hesitates for a moment outside the den. They had made an agreement. She was to leave him at one of the borders… they were too young to raise a kit. They were too young to give him the home he deserved… But she wanted to try. She steeled her nerves and padded into the den they shared. There sat her mate, thoughtfully weaving flowers into the nest they shared. He looked up to meet her eyes, and he spotted the kit. The kit that never should’ve been brought home. Only a few moments later, the kit had been set in a mossbed, allowing her to speak. “Please, Crescent, you’re being irrational!” “We /agreed/, ■■■■■■■, that we weren’t /ready/ for a kit! I gave you one job, what was it?” “You… you told me to leave him at… at Falconclan’s border.” “So you /can/ listen! Then why, please tell, have you brought him back here?” “Crescent! He’s our /kit/, for dust’s sake! I– I couldn’t leave him! He– he’ll die out there without us, Crescent, we can’t just–” “No! We talked about this. We came to an agreement. We can hardly feed ourselves, much less another whining mouth who won’t even be able to hunt for four moons!” “/Crescent/!” “Don’t ‘Crescent’ me, ■■■■■■■, I– I can’t believe you right now. I need a walk–” “–! You’re just going to walk out on me?!” “I’ll be back with prey. Be grateful for that. We’ll… we’ll sort this out later. I need to clear my head.” He stormed out not even a moment later. She looked helplessly at her kit, who seemed so content in the warmth of the nest. She couldn’t help but feel that her whole world was falling out from beneath her. Should she have… left him? No, she couldn’t have. After all, she had already named her only kit of the litter. Soul. ~ SRP | ■■■■■■■ | she/her | 22 moons She was running, her kit held in her mouth. He was helplessly confused, whining and begging Momma to know, know why she was running, know why Dadda hurt her. But she didn’t want to explain. Not until they were safe. The arguments had never gotten better. Crescent kept looking at Soul like he was a problem, a rift in the “family” that was driving their den apart. She would hear none of it. She loved Soul and argued for his favor. Crescent didn’t like that, though. She had known it would happen. Crescent had come home upset again. He always did whenever he had a bad hunt… and she used to receive the brunt of his anger. She could calm him down. But not since she had brought Soul into the den. Crescent… tried to use Soul as a vent for frustration. She would never allow him to lay a claw on her kit, though. Tonight, her adamant defense of her only child– her beloved kit– had turned against her. In a fit of angry hisses and snarls, Crescent had slashed at Soul. She reacted out of motherly instinct. She dove between her mate and her kit, and an instant later, the side of her head was bloodied, and a scrap of her ear had been torn off. Crescent tried to apologize. He tried to explain. He tried to deflect and excuse what he had done. She might’ve even forgiven him, if only he hadn’t tried to hurt Soul. Now, the two were running across the desert, Soul hanging limply from her maw as she tried to navigate through tear-stained eyes. The desert felt suddenly dangerous, unforgiving. The shadows of cats kept dancing on the edges of her vision, and she kept running to get away. She had never believed in Starclan. But tonight, she prayed for help, begging whatever ghosts or gods that might be out there– help me find somewhere safe for me and my kit. The stars shined fondly on her that night. She stumbled wildly across a single, rocky den, which she quickly sniffed around before hiding in. It wasn’t comfortable. She was still a little scared. For her own safety, for that of her kit. “Momma…?” “Y– yes, my little Soul?” “Why… why did Dadda hurt you?” “… he… wasn’t a good cat, Soul. I should’ve run away a long time ago.” “Oh.” There was careful silence for a moment. Then, her brown little bundle of joy piped up, “Momma? I’m… I’m tired. Can you sing me one of your lullabies, or tell me a story?” She paused for a moment. Then, quietly, she began to sing. “Shine, shine, o star in the night, Guide my path with your gentle light. I wish I knew what lay ahead of me, I wish I saw all there was to see.” She paused for a moment. Then, she quietly changed the last part. “But even if I never know, The place that you want me to go, I’ll travel strong, I’ll stand up true, I’ll fight the world, I’ll do it all for you.” Soul was quiet for a moment. Then another. Then, she realized with a loving lurch, her kit was soft asleep, lulled into the world of unfettered dreams by her soft voice. She looked around the den, and for the first time in a long time, She felt at home.
SRP | ■■■■■■■ | she/her | 24 moons Stars, she wasn’t feeling great. Crescent made hunting seem startlingly easy, and since she had to hunt for /two/ cats, things weren’t going incredibly well for her. It was a long hunt, but she managed to turn up two scrawny rabbits. Pretty good by her standards. She padded into their den, her eyes adjusting quickly to the light. It was soft and warm, a shared nest lying in the corner. One of the walls had deep gouges where she had patiently marked Soul’s growth. The ground was squished flat with moons of playful scampering and movement. She was faintly startled as she glanced down, and there, wrapped around one of her paws, was Soul. His dark green eyes were a mirror of her own, and his pelt was starting to come in thick and stocky. And, for some reason, Soul was clinging to her leg and batting playfully. “I gotchu, Momma!” She blinked slowly. Then, her expression broke into a big grin. She lifted Soul right off the ground as he desperately clung to her leg. “What’s this? The littlest hunter, trying to catch the biggest prey?” “Yah! I’m gonna be the greatest hunter, then you won’t have to hunt all day! Watch this, Momma!” Her heart twinged with a hint of sadness and… failure. Her own kit realized how hard she was pushing herself. But, she shunted aside these shameful feelings as she watched Soul detach from her leg, falling into one of the messiest hunting crouches she had ever seen. Humorously, she meowed, “Slow down there, little tom. With a crouch like that, you’ll scare every rabbit in the desert /long/ before you get close to them.” Soul stuck his tongue out, and meowed poutingly, “I don’t like rabbits, Momma!” She laughed, ruffling the fur on top of his head a little bit. “You complain about anything I get you unless it’s one of those fish from Seaclan. And you /know/ how far of a walk that is. I can’t leave you here all by yourself!” Soul looked up, his gaze bright and whimsical. “I’d walk with you, Momma! I could keep you safe from the bad desert things, like cactus! Those hurt.” “I’m safe out there, little one. Much safer than you’d be. Tell you what, when you turn ten moons old, I’ll get you all the fish you want.” Soul perked up, eyes seeming a lot brighter all of a sudden. “Really? You have to promise that you'll do that, Momma!” She purred softly, and meowed, “I promise. Once you turn ten moons old, I’ll get you all the fish I can catch. Seaclan’s going to have to chase us down to get their fish back, but we’ll run too fast!” Why couldn’t he stay young forever…? Even if she wanted to preserve this little version of Soul… She couldn’t wait to see him grow. ~ SRP | ■■■■■■■ | she/her | 25 moons It wasn’t getting better. Stars, it was only getting worse. She had sat by the border all day, hoping to meet a medic. Any cat who could help her, she’d take. All she met was a patrol who harshly turned her away, insisting they couldn’t take risks. She begged. She explained everything. The patrol didn’t waver. She returned to her den, paws feeling heavy and head stuffed with clouds. Her nose was a little sniffly. Her throat was sharp when she tried to swallow. Her eyes were constantly heavy, tempting sleep. Soul was still as playful, but she couldn’t match his energy anymore. He was hopping up on his back paws, asking her to play with him! Tag, rock-stacking, hide-and-seek, all of these playful games that she always loved to do with him. She just couldn’t. “Soul… Soul, I can’t… I’m too tired.” Soul’s eyes filled with tears. She thought she was in for a meltdown, but when Soul spoke, his words were… startlingly measured. “Momma… you’re always too tired. You sleep so much. You forget to tell me bedtime stories. Are you okay?” She paused. She stared at her kit for a long, long time. She couldn’t tell him. She could never tell him. She closed her eyes. It… it was too late for her. Without herbs, and without a cat who knew what to do… “Soul… remember what I taught you?” “About hunting? Yeah, I remember.” “… good. You’ll have to… start hunting more.” “Because you’re tired?” “Yes. Because I’m tired.” Soul still appeared a little worried, but he nodded faintly. “Okay, Momma. I’ll be the best hunter… for you!” She smiled. “Yeah. Do it for me.” ~ She would never get to see him grow. She would never rock stack, hide or seek, run around the desert playing tag. She would never get to see what came of her little Soul. Like a coward, she abandoned her kit, too afraid to see his fear, his guilt, his sorrow at her loss. She ran away in the middle of the night. It hurt. It wasn’t easy. But she knew she wasn’t going to survive until sunrise. Her heart was fluttery. Her head was pounding. She didn’t want Soul to wake up… and see that she never would. She tripped as she ran. She hit the ground. She never got back up. (ERP)
