}{ [C, Some Romance and Angst. FirexSand]

[The Third Kit]

Title: The Third
Chapters: Four, when I'm done.
Author: Feathercloud
Pairing: FirexSand
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Well, I guess you wouldn't want to read if you hadn't started reading the New Prophecy yet.
Summary: Firestar is broken-hearted when one of his three newborn kits dies suddenly.
Warning: The death of a kit, and a little angst from Firestar and Sandstorm.
Disclaimer: I do not, and have never, owned any part of Warriors. If I did, Firestar would be dead by now.
Beta: Nobody.
Cover: None.

Author's Notes: [notes here] What if there was a third kit? What if Firestar lost a little of himself when she died? What if...

Part One: Spottedkit

It felt like a nest of hornets was buzzing in Firestar's brain, pricking him with worry and making him pace agitatedly back and forth in front of the nursery. Every now and then, he would pause, scent the air, and mutter something indistinguishable even to himself; then he would continue pacing.

For what seemed an eternity, he waited. He had worn tracks in the grass, and his legs were aching, by the time Cinderpelt poked her ash-colored face out of the nursery entrance. Her blue eyes were shining as only being able to help another cat made them do--- Firestar remembered fondly the days when she was first learning the art of the medicine cat from old Yellowfang. Now, here she was, tapping her tail impatiently to get his attention. Oops! "H-how are they?" Firestar asked nervously. The hornets in his mind were getting louder with his anxiety.

"They're fine," mewed Cinderpelt gently. She nudged him towards the nursery, adding, "Sandstorm wants to see you." Heart pounding louder than before, Firestar stepped into the warm dimness of the nursery den. Instantly, he caught the scent which made his paws start quivering. Sandstorm. She looked up at him, green eyes dancing in delight. Her ginger body was curled around three small, damp bundles: one tabby, one ginger, one tortoiseshell.

"Firestar..." Sandstorm breathed rapturously. "They're yours, and mine...our kits..." Suddenly feeling tingly all over, as he hadn't felt in moons, Firestar pressed his nose into his mate's soft neck fur. He breathed in deeply, then let out his breath, and with it all the pent up emotions he had been battling since Sandstorm's birth pangs had started coming. Seeming to sense his relief, Sandstorm gazed into his eyes and murmured, "It wasn't hard, really. And it's worth it. Look, Firestar," she gestured with her head to the three kits suckling at her belly, "we have three healthy daughters."

"Have you named them yet?" Firestar asked softly. His mate nodded, a gleam of something unidentifiable shining in her green-as-grass eyes. "Yes," she mewed. Leaning over, she nuzzled each kit in turn and whispered their names. "Leafkit,"to the tabby, "Squirrelkit," to the ginger, and lastly, with a slight hesitation, "Spottedkit," to the tortoiseshell.

Firestar's breath caught in his throat at the name. He shared a glance with Sandstorm, a look that went on and on until Leafkit gave a mewl which broke their eyes apart. How much had it cost Sandstorm to name this kit after Spottedleaf? Firestar knew that his mate didn't really deem the dead medicine cat to be a rival anymore, but still--- to name one of her kits after her was a big step. But Firestar was glad Sandstorm had done it. He looked down at Spottedkit and filled the nursery with his thunderous purr.

Part Two: Blackcough

Snow fell softly on the forest, cold, bitter, draping the world in white. With the snow came sickness. Firestar spent much of his day in the nursery, checking Sandstorm and the kits over and over for any sign of illness. He didn't dare leave them for long; Graystripe remarked constantly of how distracted he was; Brambleclaw was always reminding his former mentor to eat and sleep; Firestar didn't care. Once this leaf-bare was over, he could rest easy again.

ThunderClan was hungry. Their prey had all but vanished into niches and hidey-holes beneath the snow. Worriedly, Firestar sent out extra patrols to hunt, for even though queens were fed first, Sandstorm's ribs had begun to show. Her milk was waning, too. The kits mewled and wailed at their mother's belly, and Firestar didn't know what to do. He couldn't make his warriors give all the prey to Sandstorm---that would be selfish---but he couldn't bear to see her so thin.

It was then, in the midst of starvation and chill, that the blackcough came to ThunderClan. It wasn't really a bad bout; only reaching the weakest among the Clan. Even then, they usually fought it off after a few days. Cinderpelt was busy in her den, and was constantly sending out warriors to bring back herbs she needed but didn't have time to fetch. Her herbs, though, weren't enough for some.

They lost an elder. Firestar was out hunting, trying to bring back something for Sandstorm, when the old cat succumbed to the disease. When he returned, Cinderpelt was shaking her head sadly, and his three kits were poking their heads out of the nursery to watch the warriors go about their daily lives. You can guess which activity Firestar noticed first. He rushed to the nursery, shooing his kits back inside, scolding Sandstorm for letting them out.

"They're bored," she mewed softly, curling around the three small kits. "They need something to keep them out of mischief, Firestar."
He didn't dare let them out of the nursery, though. However, even with his care, one of the kits caught blackcough. Spottedkit.

She had always been the weakest. Her eyes soon dulled, her nose crusted, her energy draining like water into parched ground. Firestar fretted, again pacing, watching Cinderpelt do her best to help the little tortoiseshell kit who was the light of Firestar's life. Even so, the night that the moon was full, Spottedkit breath began to rasp in her tiny chest. Firestar sent Graystripe to the Gathering in his stead, and stayed huddled close to his kit, praying fiercely.

Part Three: Heartbreak

Firestar gently rasped his tongue over Spottedkit's ear and thought, I'll give you one of my five lives left, StarClan, if you'll spare her. He was desperately trying to keep the kit warm and safe, while Sandstorm looked on, green eyes glistening with horrible truth. Firestar would have none of it---NO! he told himself, No, I won't let her go. Not again.

"Dad?" mumbled a voice. Firestar jerked awake, realizing with horror that he had dozed off, still licking Spottedkit's head. She was looked at him through filmy eyes, trying to say something else. Anxiously, he asked, "Do you feel alright?" She shook her head slowly, and mewed, "Dad, I--- I feel like I'm burning up." It was true. Firestar could feel through her fur that she was hot with fever. He yowled, "Cinderpelt! Cinderpelt, come here!" She came quickly, concern in her eyes. But that concern wasn't for Spottedkit, Firestar though angrily. It was for him.

"She's feverish," he hissed at the medicine cat. "Do something!"
"I don't want to prolong her suffering, Firestar," Cinderpelt mewed quietly. "She needs to sleep, so that she can---"
"NO!" Firestar snapped, making Sandstorm jump. "No! She's not going to die! I won't let her!" Sorrow and sympathy pooled in Cinderpelt's blue-as-sky eyes. "I'm sorry, Firestar," she murmured, shaking her head, "But she's too far gone. Not even the greatest of medicine cats could save her now."

It was almost dawn when the faint rasp of Spottedkit's breath ceased, and Firestar's heart broke.

[Crystaleyes]

Aww, how sad! you should write more, definately.

[The Third Kit]

(Man, I really messed up when I posted that first part...oh well. )

Part Four: Firestar

Even Sandstorm didn't mourn like Firestar. She stood to the side, and let him bury his nose in the tiny ball of tortoiseshell fur. She knew, even though she longed to comfort him, that it wouldn't help. Firestar needed time.

He didn't think he needed time; no, he didn't really think at all for the first moon. Graystripe was running the Clan by now, with Sandstorm helping when she could. But Firestar stayed in his den, eating little, sleeping much, dreaming of a graceful tortoiseshell who smiled and called to him.

There was one night, early in the second moon of his grief, when he woke with Spottedleaf's whisper in his ear. "Let me go, Firestar," she murmured. "I promise to be here when you die for the last time. I promise to keep your daughter safe. But let me go." Firestar thought he would never be able to open his eyes again, for trying to keep the sight of a tortoiseshell kit and a tortoiseshell she-cat in his mind.

He did open his eyes, though, when a small paw brushed his whiskers. Nerves jolting, he leapt up from his pile of moss, staring around wildly for the intruder. There she was, a ginger kit, her green eyes indignant. Who was she again? he wondered, dazed. His dreams were leaving him now, and he was suddenly awake to the world. To Squirrelkit.

"Daaa-aaad," she mewed, reproachful. "You haven't come to see me in forever." Suddenly, Firestar remembered what he had been missing while he grieved. He remembered Sandstorm. He remembered Leafkit, and Graystripe. And Firestar stood at the mouth of his den, a little wistfully, with Squirrelkit beside him and the new-leaf air in his throat.

And Firestar laughed out loud for joy at the sight of Leafkit, and Sandstorm. He was awake again, alive again. Reveling in the stretching of muscles when he ran through the forest---his forest---and loving the easy laughter between him and Graystripe. This was life. With or without Spottedleaf.

There were nights when he dreamed of them. The kit, and the she-cat, starry-eyed, running with him through dream-forests. There were nights when he shook with grief at his loss. But then he would rise from his nest, shake away the nightmares, and go into the nursery to look at Sandstorm. His mate. His love.

And Firestar was happy again.

[coalfur]

Excellent!loved it completly history-making.