Warrior Cats: Fallen Leaves

1 The Outside World

Last Updated: 9 July 2017

Drowsy but attentive, Wheatkit's senses sharpened at the shrill yowl of his denmate, Rosekit. Surprised, he bit down on his mother's teat. Mousefern jerked and hissed, detaching Wheatkit from her soft belly and the sweet, warm milk. Milk! was his only thought as was sent rolling, rolling over itchy reeds, closer to the scuffle of moss and patters of many paws. With Darkness surrounding him, only mews guided him to his bearings.
"Listen to me!"
"Yes, my kit?" a cat responded in a smooth soft-growl. That was Rosekit's mother, Russetdawn, or Her. Her was Wheatkit's special name for her.
"Can we go outside today?" Rosekit's tangy scent competed with an excitement that made Wheatkit's whiskers tingle. "Stormkit, Featherkit and I want to play in leaves before leaf-fall ends!"
"Wheatkit hasn't opened his eyes yet so it wouldn't be fair, would it? If he opened them sooner, instead of rolling, we could all stretch our legs."
The tom-kit felt something was wrong with the pressure put on his name. He crawled kittensteps for Mother's comfort but she was not there. He scented her nearby but the stuffy, still air of the nursery was fragrant with other scents of milk, cats and strange Outside scents. This worried Wheatkit. So, he proclaimed his discomfort with a tail-slap and a mewl, but it was lost over the agreement from Rosekit:
"Yeah, I've been waiting all morning!" Chilly air wreathed around him, made his dainty fur shiver. To his not-preference, a huge pad poked his eyelid. "Open up, slow trout! It's taken you half a season just to-"
She never finished as a stronger breeze whipped past the flinching tom-kit. There was a whuff, a squeal, the crackle of reeds and a piercing gust of fresh air that blew Wheatkit's whiskers back. What was that?
"Do not touch Wheatkit like that again, Rosekit!" Mother's hiss. Then there was a yowl from Russetdawn which faded with her scent. Then the surrounding Dark, his 'eyesight', dropped a shade darker. A rough tongue caressed his uncertainty and herded it away with a warm soft-growl. Mother's soft-growl. He was glad for her presence, but why was Mother's scent so, so angry? Her fur so, so stiff? Wheatkit mewled louder: Milk! Milk!
Again, the kit's needs were interfered by Birchflower's hoarse croak, "My, is HillClan invading? Rosekit appears to have taken a tumble!"
"A big one; look at the size of that gap, Pebblekit!" That was Skykit to his left, Birchflower's kit. His scent always stank of some prey called 'dragonflies'. But only HillClan kits ate dragonflies.
"I'm hot. And don't let Russetdawn hear you or she'll claw your fur off! Twice!" Pebblekit complained. His scent was his name, strangely.
There was an angered hiss, more crashes and tears.
"I heard that! And Rosekit, just look at your fur! Featherkit, Stormkit, come and help your sister- Ouch! Stupid reed. I'll get of rid it just like I will get rid of Birchflower's kits..."
There were terrified whimpers from Birchflower's litter.
As two small breezes brushed past Wheatkit, and Featherkit's and Stormkit's fiery and fierce scent starting fading, a very, very stern voice boomed like his Mother's heartbeat pressed against him now. "I heard a crash over here. What's wrong with Rosekit?"
And how the mud scent made Wheatkit's nose wrinkle! Cats alive! Suddenly a bubbling uncertainty popped the wrong way inside Wheatkit's belly, like that constant sound of water splashing outside camp, one you either got used to or tore moss trying. As there was only one CreekClan warrior who smelt like mud...
"Icetalon, she's fine!" Russetdawn snapped, "All my kits are fine!"
There was an unnatural pause, then Skykit yowled, "My da is here! One of the senior warriors of CreekClan! Beat that, Stormkit!"
"My mother is also a senior warrior, and my father is the leader! Just wait until he comes; he'll make you clean out the elders!"
As Birchflower and Mousefern chuckled, jolting Wheatkit up and down in between them, harsh pawsteps stepped down into the nursery. Icetalon meowed, "Our kits are at it again. I'm sorry, Russetdawn."
"I'm considering your apology." She was still outside.
"But I'm not here for that...Has anycat seen Foxmuzzle? He's supposed to be sorting water patrols, but I haven't seen him since dawn."
Mother crushed Wheatkit between her unsheathed paws. "What?"
Birchflower soft-growled to Wheatkit's left, "He must be hunting for the Clan, working hard as always. I think I've worked hard enough all these moons to earn me a nap." She yawned.
Russetdawn's scent started growing stronger, and her kits brushed past him, cramping the nursery with four more cats. Most annoyingly, Rosekit's fur twitched against his nose, she complained, and would keep complaining about itchy reeds stuck in her fur. In the meantime, her littermates, Pebblekit and Skykit distracted her with a game of sorts; something that made them squeak and scuffle moss. An empty hole gaped inside Wheatkit, longing to join in, but he wouldn't open his eyes; Rosekit wouldn't have the best of him yet! (How dare she poke his eye.)
Then Mother's tone was strange, twitching tail tickling her wordless son, "Are you sure? Where was he headed? Did other cats see him? Did he get lost? Attacked by a predator? Has he-"
"Calm down," was Icetalon's mew, and Mother sheathed her paws, relaxed her crushing grip. Wheatkit gaped his tiny maw in relief.
Foxmuzzle had once told Wheatkit, "Icetalon can soothe an argument with a phrase, just as Russetdawn excels in starting one." He called it 'charisma': it was what made the senior warriors so 'popular' among their Clanmates. Wheatkit hoped he had 'charisma' and 'popular' as a warrior.
Then Mother meowed, "What if-"
And Icetalon meowed, "All queens jump at the slightest disturbance."
And Russetdawn meowed, "We do not!" Her voice rose, pawsteps flattened. "Mousefern, addressing your concerns, do have den fever? Do you require a walk outside?"
As Mother's paws unsheathed again, Icetalon mewed, "Birchflower and I would be glad to have company on our evening walk."
Birchflower snored in reply.
"Or perhaps-"
"Forget it, fish-brain," Russetdawn hissed above the clamour of the kits, "Not all she-cats are mooned by your charms."
Wheatkit's denmates snorted at this, Stormkit mewling, "Beat that, Skykit!" Skykit mrr-owed, there was a buff, moss rubbed the wrong way against Wheatkit's itchy belly, then- Cats alive! The nursery was shaking! Whiskers tingling, fur bristling, Wheatkit half-scrambled, half-wriggled, terrified underneath the safety of Mother's belly, away from the ground-shaking, away from the monstrous kit-squeals, the bellowing roars from older cats, the terror of sound!
"Enough!"
That was Mother. Her voice hissed, her stomach almost crushed him. Wheatkit trembled. He could smell his own fear-scent.
"Stormkit, Skykit, look how your bickering, your fighting terrified Wheatkit! Countless times I've told you, your littermates not to play roughly, and still you do! Have you no common sense, even at your age?"
A huge scent from the tom-kits bowled Wheatkit's senses. It smelt of terror, shame and a brilliant after-fight-excitement. Wheatkit only wanted the lack of scary kit-squeals to continue. Icetalon allowed his kit a lecture as appropriate (Besides, Wheatkit thought, not even 'charisma' could halt Mother in this terrifying state), and Russetdawn herself was thumping her paws with amusement.
"I'm really sorry," Skykit was first, Stormkit following with only a mutter.
"Speak up!" Mother prompted. Everykit flinched.
"Sorry." Stormkit spat. A moment after, his soily scent merged with the other kits. They continued their moss game now as the quietest mice. At least the loud tom-kits had apologized (they had really scared Wheatkit!).
As Mousefern started lapping Wheatkit's fur very painfully and fast, which made him scrabble away, only to be pawed back, Icetalon added, "I apologize, Mousefern. The kits only grew excitable since I visited. Once again, sorry-"
"Forget it. Please make sure Foxmuzzle comes back to camp safe. And ask another warrior to fix the nursery barrier." Mother didn't stop lapping.
Over his discomfort, Wheatkit thought it amazing how Birchflower still slept. Then Icetalon's scent was gone, overpowered by Russetdawn's watery one. She was padding close to Wheatkit's left, near Birchflower. Free air was gulped eagerly. Fur wet, the shaking in Wheatkit's heart and stomach was slowing. It felt good.
Then the lapping ceased. His fur tingled cold as wind swept over it. He shivered. Mother nuzzled his muzzle to her belly, though Wheatkit found the moss beneath his tender pawpads hot from her previous position. Too hot! he thought, kneading his paws instinctively. Then his tiny maw discovered a cooler, but still warm round flesh. He nipped it twice and tasted milk. Mother's teat.
He was suckling within a moment.