Mocking Bird was not sure how to explain where she came from.
She had been born in a Clan, of sorts. Her mother had once been a loner, a past rouge at that who had joined a group of other cats. Some a Clan long shattered, disbanded. Gone. Other's like the she-cat herself, a loner who found safety in numbers. Her father had once been a deputy of the Clan which had started the group. Born in a litter of five, the youngest kit. In body she quite resembled her father. In build, height and her ginger tabby pelt. Her eyes, and indeed mind, were from her mother.
She never did learn the name of her Clan, indeed it was just called the Clan and seeing as there was no neighbouring Clans she wasn't even sure if it had been given a true name. She liked to think of it as FogClan, for the cats appeared out of nowhere. She remembered her mate sometimes; the day the smoky grey tom had been dragged into camp by her father and another. The tom had the most amazing blue eyes she had ever come across.
The flood had seperated her from her Clan, not even a moonrise after she had found out she was pregnant. She hadn't even gotten to tell anyone but Silverstripe, the medicine cat. She had given birth to her litter of four alone, in a rose bush. Two sons, two daughters, falling a pattern of son, daughter, son, daughter.
But now the memories of her past were pushed aside, the only thing that remained was the hunger of her kits. That and the
sparrow. It chirped, oblivious to the danger. Her tail twitched as she watched it. Wating, waiting, waiting ...
~~...~~
The four kits ran towards the she-cat. They failed to notice the limp of her back leg, they only noticed her presence and the prey she brought. A grey squirrel, the she-cat perferring red, and the sparrow in her jaws bore deep teeth marks as she hid the pain. She dropped the prey and bumped her head off of Piper's, her eldest daughter, earning a giggle from the excited, hungry kit. Her kits were three moons old and no longer fed on her milk. The she-cat watched the kits as they ate the squirrel and hid her smile by washing her face at Magpie's face at his first taste of grey squirrel. She bit into the breast of the sparrow herself, watching her eldest kit chew the chunk of squirrel with a face of unhidden disgust.
WIP
Themes wrote:Don't You Worry Child - Swedish House Mafia
