Kit Badger Rides (short story)
“No, Starlingkit, this way! Buzzardkit, you can sit down later!” Grousemane couldn’t decide if he wanted to huff in annoyance or laugh in amusement. The kits were still young, and now that they were able to sort of walk, they were eager to get around and explore.
Aspenkit, the only one that had stuck with her father, made a chirping sound, glaring at her littermates, who, at her noise, scurried back over to their father’s tail. “Thank you, little one.”
They were on their way to meet Brownmouse for possibly the first time. Brownmouse had nursed them, then passed them to the poly once they were weaned. Grousemane wondered if they would remember him at all, or the older kits that were, shortly, raised alongside them. He was thankful that Brownmouse hadn't made his den too far, making it easier and safer to navigate the four small ones.
When he found the den, he called into it, and a moment later, Brownmouse emerged. His eyes lit up when he saw the kits. Starlingkit scurried behind Grousemane. Aspenkit sniffed his paw cautiously, while Duskkit hissed. Buzzardkit didn’t seem to notice him, instead watching as a brown leaf fell from a nearby tree.
“They’re so grown!” Brownmouse gushed, lowering himself onto his belly. “What did you name them?”
They hadn’t received their names until after they were weaned. Grousemane had wanted the whole poly, especially Myrtlewing, together when that time came. “Buzzardkit for the one that looks like me, Starlingkit after scaredy mouse–after my littermates, Duskkit for the angry one, and Aspenkit for their sister–after Myrtlewing’s littermates.”
“Wow!” Brownmouse watched them as though his eyes could see nothing else, following their movements. When Aspenkit moved closer, he began to wave his tail in the air, and squealing, she leaped after it playfully. “Who would have taken Myrtlewing as the sentimental one?”
“Hootpetal’s idea.”
“There you go,” Brownmouse rolled his eyes affectionately.
The kits grew comfortable quickly after sniffing Brownmouse’s pelt. Clearly, they didn’t remember him–they were probably still too young to remember this moment one day either–but by his scent, they knew that he was familiar, and that meant that he was safe.
“Are they here?” A kit’s voice, older than his own, asked. A moment later, a head popped out of the den entrance, joined by his brother, who’s own head pressed his against the den wall to make room, squishing his littermate.
“Kits!” The second cat, Minnowkit, exclaimed, pushing past Prancekit and rushing eagerly to the kits, who either hissed or scampered beneath Grousemane’s belly.
Minnowkit frowned. “But they know me!”
Prancekit padded forward more slowly. “When they were like a moon old!”
“They should still know me,” Minnowkit stated righteously. “I was with them all of the time!”
Brownmouse nudged him playfully. “Why don’t you create another memory to help them remember?”
At Minnowkit’s look of confusion, he added, “they’re just big enough for badger rides now.”
“Yes!” Minnowkit pressed his belly to the dry, grassy floor. “On my back!”
The kits only blinked.
“Like this,” Prancekit told them, lowering himself as well. “Climb on, and we can run around! Don’t you want to play?”
“Play!” Starlingkit squealed happily, scurrying to clamber on top of Prancekit’s back, who carefully raised up and began to stomp around. He was cautious and moving leisurely, the kit still too small for the faster rides.
“I said it first!” Minnowkit complained.
“Shh,” his father told him. “They’re interested now, see?”
Aspenkit and Buzzardkit were watching Prancekit and Starlingkit with wide, curious eyes that they then turned on Minnowkit. Minnowkit eagerly returned onto his belly, and Aspenkit and Buzzardkit wobbled over hastily, pushing for a spot on. “You can both fit,” Minnowkit reassured them. He couldn’t move around as fast as Prancekit with the added weight, but that was just as fine. The steadier, the better, especially with two of them.
“Don’t you want to play, Duskkit?” Grousemane asked his son, the only one that was not currently enjoying a badger ride. When Duskkit looked at him, Grousemane frowned. The kit’s lip was protruding in a pout, and wobbling. “We can make space for you, you can play.”
Duskkit only shook his head, sitting with his head ducked. “Ah, okay, I got it.”
“What’s wrong?” Brownmouse asked, searching the kit’s pelt.
“Just missing home, I think,” Grousemane explained. “They’ve never been so far before, not when they remember.” He nuzzled Duskkit’s head. “Do you want to go home to mommy and daddies?”
Duskkit nodded vigorously.
“Okay. Playing can stop for now.”
“What?” Minnowkit huffed from nearby. “But we just started!”
“It doesn’t necessarily have to stop just yet,” Brownmouse suggested. “I’m sure the kits wouldn’t mind a ride back home, after all they’re legs are so tiny.”
“Yes!” Prancekit and Minnowkit cheered. Grousemane noted that this would be their first time being at the Eye-out Thorns. He hoped Myrtlewing didn’t frighten them too much.
“Do you want a ride, or carry?” he asked Duskkit.
“Carry! Carry!” Duskkit practically shouted. Obliging, Grousemane picked him up by the scruff.
“It was great seeing them again,” Brownmouse said with a smile. “I’m sure they will grow into wonderful cats.”
Grousemane felt as though he were glowing, so full of love for the four. “Yours too,” he replied, then led the way across the grass.
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@wills-woodland-warriors