Legacy: Timeless (Book 2)

Epilouge

Epilogue

The soft mewling of kits filled the tranquil coolness of evening. The delicate warmth of new-leaf drifted on the blossom-scented breeze, the haunting scent of night imposing on the young forest as the flower petals closed up and the critters scampered to their nests.

But the night was alive as well. The sharp-eyed owl swopped from its nest and the slumbering badger rose from its underground den, both intent on finding some grub before morning. Fox and moles moved about the forest as they pleased and the erect figures of cats slipped through the silhouetted greenery, their eyes glowing unearthly with the dying light.

The leader of the cats was a large stone gray tom. His blue eyes were weathered into a sharp gaze, yet they still pooled softly with life and love. His followers filed silently after him into a stone hollow, the afterglow of dusk being taken over by the dark blue sky.

The soft scent of milk attracted the tom's attention to a dark bramble thicket woven into the roots of a fallen tree so ancient that its pale bark was stripped smooth and glowed pale in the light. The tom turned to his cats and dismissed them with a commanding flick of his tail before he padded silently to the den where the scent of milk and pitiful mewling arose from.

Stepping carefully through the entrance that scratched at his shoulders he blinked to allow his eyes adjust before proceeding to the edge of a large moss nest. A red furred she-cat with black patches was curled in the feathery green, her eyes closed in dozing. Her long, unruly fur created a stark contrast against the natural green of her moss nest, but blended with the shadows of dusk.

The tom took a moment to admire her long, slender body and her well muscled legs and shoulders. He looked at the end of her fluffy tail and used a paw to sweep it aside, staring at the two tiny forms curled at the queen's belly. They're so perfect.

One of the kits was a stolid gray tom, much like himself, but had an odd black ear and foot- marks that came from the kitten's mother. The she-kit was a little smaller than her brother, her fur a smoky blue gray- like that of an approaching rainstorm or of the sky approaching midnight in the height of greeneaf. The tom tilted his head, he still thought she looked a little odd. Her head was rounder than her well-shaped Clanmates and her paws were already disproportionally round to her tiny body.

"Aren't they wonderful, Boulderstar?" The tom turned to look at his mate, Scorch. Her vibrant dark gaze stared down at the kits and he felt- as he often did- a wave of sorrow. Scorch- many, many moons ago- had been blinded in a decisive battle for the Clans.

He always felt guilty, for the injury had occurred while she was saving his life. But there was no sorrow in her gaze as she stared down at the kits she'd never see. "We still haven't given them names," he murmured, looking back at the kits and sitting down so that his flank brushed his mate's.

"They're only two days old. There's time yet to find the perfect names," Scorch mewed softly.

"Do you have any names in mind?" Boulderstar asked, he had a few names, but it was Scorch who had carried and given birth to these kits, he didn't want to intrude if she had names picked out.

Scorch hesitated and then nodded, touching the tom kit gently, "I would like to name him Rainkit, after my mother."

Boulderstar nodded, he had never met Scorch's parents, but he knew how deeply it had hurt her after she was blinded, to know that her dream of one day finding them would remain just that. Over the moons he had gone to great lengths to try to help, even leading a patrol to try to find them and bring them back to see Scorch. But days upon days he had spent along the sandy shore, the terrifying ocean to one side and empty land to the other.