Warriors: War of the Clans - Darkness

Prolouge

The newleaf storm raged outside the small den Jasmine had chosen. She stumbled closer to the back of the den to prevent herself from getting soaked by the downpour of rain. Her pants and groans were drowned out by the sound of large drops of water hitting the ground outside rapidly. She stumbled to the ground, her foot caught on a rock. But as she tried to get up she couldn't, as her large belly, filled with kits ready to come out, held her down. She managed to slide herself farther into the back of the cave, her brown fur already filthy.

She gave birth to three kits, right there in the cave. The first born was a small, red­furred kit with black paws and a black chest, plus a white belly. He looked a little like a fox, and as she leaned down to lick him, she whispered through the pain, "You, little one, are Fox." But the pain quickly overtook her, and she groaned, laying her head back down. She had no medicine cat to help, no mate encouraging her on, just herself, and the damp cave.

The second kit came, this time a she. She was brown with black spots and a lighter brown belly. Jasmine named her Hollow, and the third one, a brown tom with white speckles and a lighter brown belly, Milk. She pulled them closer with her tail, and as they suckled, she marveled at how lucky she was. Luckier than other loner she­cats, who's kits died as soon as they were born, or came out dead. But none of her kits had died.

The kits first opened their eyes a day after they were born, blinking around the cave, and at their mother. Her short fur with many different shades of brown mixed around in her fur, the grime, her deep blue eyes that all her kits had. They gazed at the light from outside, the afternoon light. Jasmine was hungry, as she had not gone hunting since before the kits were born. Not for the first time, she wished she was in some sort of clan or place where cats who care for kits are taken care of. But loners have taken care of kits on their own before. She could do this.

They went outside shortly after they opened their eyes. Jasmine stalked a mouse, and the kits watched, transfixed. She leaped and bit it on the neck, eating it quickly. Hollow blinked her eyes. "Can you teach us to do that, Mom?" She asked eagerly.

Jasmine purred, and put her tail tip on her daughter's small shoulders. "Not yet," She replied, "But I certainly will when you are older."

Jasmine and the kits went outside every day, until, a couple days after the first expedition, Jasmine decided she needed more than the scrawny mice around the den. Her milk was getting dry.

"I need to go out for a while, to get some more food for us. Stay in the den until I get back." The kits nodded, and Hollow turned around and repeated it to Fox and Milk, and Hollow's two brothers pushed her playfully, and they all started play fighting, squealing and laughing. Jasmine smiled. "Be good," she warned, then turned and padded out of the den.

They stopped play fighting soon after Jasmine left, and grinned at each other. Suddenly, Fox pricked his small ears. "Do you hear that?" He whispered, instinct kicking in and telling him

to keep his voice down. Milk and Hollow nodded. Then Milk slowly stalked to the entrance, looking outside. Hollow followed him, and Fox stuck out his head after Milk and Hollow.The creature they saw was huge. It was grey, with a stripe of white with an outline of black shining down its back from its snout. Its long claws dug into the dirt, as if it was looking for something. It scented the air around it.

"What do you think it is?" Fox asked, still keeping his voice low.

Not low enough. The creature pricked its ears and turned to them, spotting them. It snarled, lumbering over, and the three kits yowled in alarm, turning into the cave and running.

They would have died, then and there, if Jasmine hadn't been returning at that very moment. She dropped the prey, and leapt at the animal.

The kits had their eyes covered, but they heard snarls and yowls, the ripping of fur and flesh. It went on for a while, and not until the fighting stopped did they come out.

The creature had left. Their mother was lying motionless in the middle of the clearing. The three kits raced over to her, yowling in dismay. They poked her, dragged a rabbit she found over to her head, as if the prey would bring her around. Her throat was ripped out, and she had claw marks and head wounds. Their once­ beautiful mother was gone. That was one thing that they understood, what instinct told them about her eyes, how they stared into space, as if she had forgotten everything in that one moment. They buried their faces in her fur.

Their life with their mother had ended, but their lives were only beginning.