Three Mounds (short story)
Proteafang heard Tawnytrot pad toward her from behind, but couldn’t bring herself to look or twitch an ear in acknowledgement. Even as her mate settled beside her, her gaze never left from the three tiny mounds at her paws.
“How are the kits?” she asked after a moment of silence.
“Sleeping, at last,” Tawnytrot told her in a quiet voice. “Fadingstar is looking after them with Gorseheart.”
“Good,” Proteafang said absently.
Tawnytrot followed her gaze to the mounds. She didn’t say anything because there was nothing she could say. Instead, she pressed closer against Proteafang, rubbing her cheek along Proteafang’s chin.
“I didn’t name them,” Proteafang began. “Should I?” The three kits had been stillborn, born dead. Proteafang hadn’t wanted to name them then, lest her loss become more real, but now guilt was pricking at her heart in a whirlwind of grief her body struggled to contain. She trembled now, but Tawnytrot’s firm paw over hers was the only way for her to know, her mind so clouded.
The only way she could clear it even a little bit was to return to the graves Fleathistle had dug for them and stare at the dirt.
If she named the kits, maybe, someway they can live on, wherever they are. She knew of the possibility that they were nowhere, after all, no one knew what happened to cats who died twice, or of kits born in the Afterlife who die, but she shoved that idea away. She didn’t want to believe it. If she, someone who was never alive could be born to two dead cats and grow to have her own kits, then surely life can go on.
“I should never have had kits,” she cracked suddenly. “We already had Ashykit and Woodcarderkit. It was selfish to want more with my health. How could I have ever thought it would be okay?”
“Don’t blame yourself!” Tawnytrot pressed somehow closer, flattening Proteafang’s fur on her side. “They were blessed. That’s all we could do.”
“If I hadn’t…they wouldn’t be dead.”
“They wouldn’t be alive, either. Maybe they’re alive somewhere. That’s better than never existing at all.” Proteafang wasn’t sure if that was true, but she was too tired to argue. “And we wouldn’t have Trillkit or Cardinalkit,” Tawnytrot added.
Fresh guilt washed over Proteafang. She hadn’t meant to sound like she regretted having her living sons, the only survivors of their litter. A tugging feeling pulled her to her paws. As if in seconds, she wanted to race back to where she had left their kits. Tawnytrot seemed to sense this, and with a final glance at the little mounds, joined her as they returned to their waiting family.
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--:(
--Considering Proteafang is an unblessed Dark Kit, it is likely her pregnancy won’t be entirely healthy. She had a litter of five kits, but only Caridnal and Trill survived.
@wills-woodland-warriors
