Warriors: SuperClan

Chapter 24

A few moons later...

Streamflower writhed on the leaf-strewn ground, kicking and causing various herb stacks to fly everywhere. An unnamed, unimportant background kit that was naughtily poking around the Medicine Cat's Den (which had several warning signs weaved into the bramble walls, including Caution: Do Not Enter, Think Safety First! and Head Protection Must Be Worn At All Times) nibbled on a stray deathberry and immediately croaked.

A red-furred she-cat looked on with disappointment flickering in her lazy eyes. "Another dead body for the non-existent elders to bury."

"Aren't you the medicine cat? IT HURTS IT HURTS IT HURTS GIVE ME SOME HERBS OR TAKE THE PAIN AWAY WITH YOUR SPECIAL POWER." Streamflower continued to contort into various uncomfortable-looking positions on the ground.

"Nice," Herbfeather mewed lackadaisically. "Your special power should be supernatural flexibility. And, yeah, I can do that, but I am the laziest cat in the Clan. The first thing I'm going to get your kits to do when they get out of that dark place is to clean up my den."

Streamflower managed to fix the medicine cat with a considerably impressive death stare despite her agony. "Superstar... will hear about this," she grunted through gritted teeth.

Herbfeather ignored the rather disturbing comment (it almost seemed to parody Draco's famous words) and observed, "Hey, look, a head's popped out."

Generously sparing the munchkins hiding behind the decrepit fourth wall any details, the first kit arrived, quickly followed by a second. Within a moment's time they had magically punched their way out of their sacs and opened their eyes to the big wide world. One was a plain brown kit with monstrous-looking large fangs and the other a pretty cliché silver she-cat with sky-blue eyes and no visible supernatural features.

"My kits!" Streamflower mewed joyfully.

Superstar stuck his head into the Medicine Cat's Den, wearing a safety helmet. "Are they all right? Sorry, dear, I was eating my mouse. You know how important food is."

Streamflower ducked her head in understanding and quickly turned to give the kits a good lick. "Let's call the brown one with big teeth Brownkit, and the silver one whose power seems to be 'look pretty and cliché', although we probably won't know until the apprentice ceremony, Silverkit."

"My, such original names!" 

Herbfeather was surprised to find out later that their wonderful leader wasn't being sarcastic at all. To her chagrin, the old medicine cat was left with the task of looking after the two kits. Their parents both had an important celebratory dinner to attend. It's not as if the two kits needed milk or anything.

Grumbling a slur of gibberish as soon as they left, she directed her narrowed gaze towards the kits—only to find that Brownkit had vanished. Heart rate and blood pressure rising, the elderly she-cat swept the den with her eyes before asking Silverkit where her brother went. 

"I dunno. Brownkit said he wanted to pee," Silverkit squeaked.

Herbfeather instantly believed her, as all kits needed to pee straight after being kitted and already had lots of liquids in their bladder, right?

"Stay right here, okay? Don't. Move. An. Inch. The alternative is move and be burnt by Emberstream to a crisp and strangled by Aspenblade's vines and be dropped from thousands of metres in the sky by Silversoar, all at the same time, and I'd be perfectly happy to arrange that. Got it?" 

Silverkit nodded quickly, terror alive in her pretty blue eyes. Her paws were shaking, but at least they hadn't moved anywhere.

"On second thoughts, clean up my den instead. Just arrange the random leaves I picked to neat stacks like I usually do and don't care about which type of leaf goes in each pile. No one usually suspects anything."

Herbfeather gave the beautiful kit one last stern look before heading towards the dirtplace. As she got nearer her ears picked up a little squeak. Poking her head in the tunnel, she was greeting by the scene of...

Brownkit, supposedly done with whatever he was doing. 

Slightly surprised she hadn't seen something else more exciting as SuperClan always had dodgy things going on in it, from drug-addicted rogues to milk raining down from the sky, Herbfeather roughly jerked her head towards the exit and led the way out. 

"Hello? I heard you talking before. My mother named me Brownkit, right?" the newborn kit asked with voice deeper than the average kit. Herbfeather shrugged—it was the monstrous fangs' doing, obviously. They were too large to contain in Brownkit's mouth and would remind the readers of the sabre-toothed tiger.

"Brownkit, that's right. Your sister is Silverkit. I can't wait till Streamflower gets back from the firefly-lit dinner," Herbfeather sighed.

"Streamflower? She's my mother, right?"

Herbfeather snapped replies to the endless waterfall of questions as Brownkit followed her back to the Medicine Cat's Den.

Written by Saph! 🍩✨