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Post by frosty on Apr 9, 2011 19:58:15 GMT -5
The bright mid-afternoon sun flooded the DustClan camp in a rich, honey-colored light. It was that time of year when the warmth of the sun had just enough edge to force a melt. Not a flake of snow could be found anywhere on DustClan territory, and the cats were typically enjoying the new weather. However, the Pool was still locked beneath a thick layer of ice. But it was still unsafe to walk across it, as the rising temperatures began to nag the frozen layer. It looked like a great silver cat laying in their territory. Flickerstorm's mother, Birchstar, had come up with the idea of pool patrols, that were sent out several times a day to monitor the melting rate. The last thing DustClan needed was a flood, especially because DustClan cats weren't as good swimmers as their MarshClan neighbors. Flickerstorm herself had never gone on one of these pool patrols because her kits were due any day now. Her eldest son, Gravelpelt, had made sure she had stayed in camp, challenging her every time she tried to leave the nursery. She knew he was holding the best intentions for his unborn siblings, trying to act as a father figure because their real father could not properly raise them.
Letting out a long sigh, Flickerstorm tried to focus on the positive aspects of her life. Soon, she would be the proud mother of two new DustClan warriors. Birchstar, who came to visit her often enough, had felt her belly just the day before and told her daughter she felt two lumps, so it was assumed she was having two kits. But, of course, Flickerstorm was expecting anything. StarClan had a sly way of doing things that weren't predicted; that she had learned first hand. Twitching her ears to dismiss her mistrust of her warrior ancestors, she twisted her head to look at her swollen belly. She couldn't wait for her third - and last - litter to be born. Not only was she looking forward to raising new kits, but their kitting was an important milestone in Flickerstorm's life. It would end a long, dark chapter in her life consisting of eleven lost lives, three mates, and, excluding the unborn ones, six kits. Her head filling with haze, the tricolored she-cat closed her sky-colored eyes and snuggled deeper into her mossy nest.
She woke to sharp pain prodding her side, and for a few heartbeats she thought it was her rambunctious son Cougarheart pestering her for advice on his apprentice, Deerpaw. The golden tom often doubted his mentoring skills, coming to Flickerstorm for guidance. Her son took Deerpaw's training very, very seriously; she knew he wanted to do his very best in mentoring her. He was the type of cat who could do twelve things at one, whose energy never ran out, who always acted like he was no less than best, who had no concern for anyone else except for him. Wincing when the pain became more intense, she realized that the source of the pain was within her. Her eyes flew open, all traces of drowsiness evaporating like mist on a greenleaf afternoon. Long, dark dark tail lashing, she parted her jaws to let out an eerie, chilling wail, praying to StarClan that some cat would help her. But then again, Flickerstorm could never be sure she could trust StarClan after they had caused her so much grief. Another contraction rippled across her white flank like a wave, and she let out another agonized wail.
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