camp Where do I go from here || Moving to the nursery

[Frostbite]

He was pregnant. He couldn't believe it.

He would ask himself how this happened, but he knows how babies are made. He's no fool, he knows what transpired moons ago.

Is he truly so fragile, like the thin sheet of ice over a puddle that cracks and crumbles under the slightest weight?

He wanted to hide, to be left alone. The best place to do that was to hole up in the nursery, where he should be right about now. Every time he felt a movement in his belly he felt sick.

How could he be a parent? He didn't know the first thing about it. He didn't have present parents, he practically raised himself. He couldn't do that to these kits, they deserved better than what he had.

And... How many were there?? How many kits were growing inside him? Would they all make it-

That was another thought.

He doesn't know the first thing about birth. He never expected to be the one having to go through it. He knows it's a long and painful process with the chance that he or the kits could die in the process. Or both.

He couldn't stop stressing. He knows it's bad for the kits, but he just can't stop.

What is he supposed to do, he has no guidance. He's really gotten himself in trouble this time.... But he won't run from it. He fucked up, and it's his responsibility to deal with the mess he's made.

He lingers outside the nursery, as if willing himself to take the first steps inside. Every part of him told him to find somewhere else, that he would only take up space. But he combatted the thoughts with the fact that queens go in the nursery. That's where he's SUPPOSED to be.

He decides to settle next to the entrance as to not block it, and observe the camp. He looks like nothing more than a big fluffy white snowball as he curls as much as his body would allow.

A kick made him jolt, a sudden pain emanating from where the kit had struck.

".....You aren't even born yet and you're causing me pain." He mutters.​

 

[Needledrift]

Needledrift had been a little surprised to see Frostbite of all cats with a rounded belly. She hadn't noticed any suitors of any kind around the white tom, let alone any worthy enough to start a family with. Worthy, her mind repeated, a silly word to cap off a silly thought. Worthiness was not a prerequisite for kittens - kittens came from anywhere! She had to assume, with the lack of a clear mate around, that Frostbite had elected to go the route of.... some other icily monikered cat... and simply raise his children in happily perpetrated solitude.

She watches as the fluffy tom enters the nursery, a place already so full of kits - will they have enough space for however more? - and after a moment, she follows with a questioning brrrrrrmp? Are you okay?​

i will never leave your room, tell everything that bothers you​

 

[APPLEJAW]

Applekit hardly knows this cat. She knew them in the respect that they sick out super obviously in ShadowClan, and Applekit figures they must be a terrible hunter, but besides that, she doesn't know who he is. Applekit is happy to have space to herself again after being trapped in that cramped tunnel, and any disturbance to what she had known before. And there were a lot lately. The kit approaches the white cat with purpose in her steps. Her muzzle is crinkly in a suspicious way at that cat and the one outside both. " Do you live here now? " She asks him. Forestshade was here now too and it was crowded.

" There's not lots of room, " she tells him. She didn't think so, anyways. She hopes there wouldn't be a lot of kits. Maybe one or two would only be totally annoying instead of impossible like four would be. She almost asks him if he knew how many yet, but she doesn't think queens know that so much. It's annoying. ​

 

[smogstar]

Blink, and you'll miss it.

Somehow, in some twisted way, the snow-kissed tom's innards fell victim to a certain kind of infestation. Smogmaw had at first envisioned this swollen belly to be the result of self-indulgent feeding habits, perhaps out of comfort, with the bears no longer posing a threat to the clan. But no. Word of mouth characterised Frostbite through a different lens, a lens that saw him as a harbinger of an unprecedented outcome: this strong-and-silent type got himself cursed with reproduction, and, no offense to the birthing party, there wasn't a feasible culprit amongst ShadowClan's ranks.

Dark-striped limbs stray in the nursery den's projection, his paws laden with suspicion as they drag across pebbles and sun-dried muck. The latest addition to the list of unaccompanied parents sat hunched behind the brambled entrance, in the thick of a throng of bustling kits, and Needledrift too. Had he been of a lesser rank, Forestshade would have already succumbed to a bout of interrogation, as would Frostbite. Yet, a strong figure of authority knows when to bite his tongue—and besides, some of the most impactful questions are asked by action alone.

His brawny mug pokes into the nursery, just in time to catch the tail-end of his own daughter's observations. Fatherly warmth imbues his eyes as they flick towards Applekit, and a coy smile soon etches into his jaws. "No need to fret, Applekit," he mews, "you'll be leaving this den in due time." At the risk of sounding cliché, it astounds Smogmaw just how quick children flourish with age.

The goodwill in his features melts away, then, as his head creeps in the trajectory of Frostbite. His view steadily latches onto the other tom's, and refuses to let go. He does not utter a syllable, nor does he betray his apathy with a flick of the mouth or anything of the sort. Smogmaw merely watches, gaze piercing, his silence begging a lone, compelling query: how'd you get yourself knocked up? ​

 

[BoneFang]

BoneFang cared not to ask the redundant questions others were thinking. He did not care but to make his clanmates feel more comfortable then the male could make himself feel comfortable. Ice blue eyes watched carefully, analyzing the hesitant movements as the other male would approach the nursery. Their was no question the feline was pregnant.

He would pick himself up and move to grab a couple of items of his own, some coloured feathers as a gift he had gathered. Though the tom never had felt the desire or need to do such a thing, he felt an inclination to make the male feel some sort of support and not seem so... stressed. He had kits to birth and needed as little stress as possible.

The few coloured feathers of browns and blacks would be gently shoved in his fur as to make room in his maw for bringing Frostbite some food. He would shuffle through the items, before finally picking out a rat for the other warrior. He had hoped it would suffice over a lizard.

And as the warrior approached the den, he would hear Smogmaw and applekit talking, before pushing his way in. His eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness (?) of the hollow, fortunately enough. He had not many words to say to the others, placing the rat down in front of Frostbite.

He probably would gift new coming queens, had he understood the importance of mingling and learning his clan better sooner. He was trying now, and that's what mattered, correct?

"I do not intentionally mean to be weird," He was finding it hard to properly word, not a very good gift giver in general. "I noticed your nervousness, and I wanted to, I suppose, Support?" It didn't matter where the kits would come from. They were shadowclanners now, it would seem. Or frostbite would not be here. Or that was the pieces he put together. "I.. also have some feathers, if anyone would like some." It was normal his voice was bland and gruff. Unused, more than likely the reason why. But emotions were not one he understood well either.

 

[Frostbite]

He knew he would attract attention, it was probably a shock to see him of all cats in the nursery. He was shocked too, he supposed. Never in a million years would he have considered having kits, and here he is.

"I'm fine." He says to Needledrift, who approaches him first. He wants to believe himself when he says it, but is he? Is he fine?

He crumbled to pieces and became so vulnerable that he let a total stranger get so close. He isn't sure how he feels about that night. There is a mixture of longing to be embraced and a disgust for such close contact at the same time. Dwelling on it got him nowhere and he remained just as confused as he was before.

He looks to Applekit and manages a small smile. "For... The time being." He says. His ears twitch as Smogmaw approaches to remind his daughter that she is soon to be an apprentice.

He feels his gaze boring into him, and his ears lower slightly. He knows what he wants, and yet speaking the truth makes him feel sick.

"I know what you want to ask." He says to Smogmaw.

He sighs softly. Should he tell him while Applekit is here...Was this a conversation for little baby ears....

Bonefang offers him a rat, as well as his support. He remembers the time Pitchstar led a patrol to the carrionplace during leafbare and came back beaten to hell. He remembers it every time he sees a rat, actually. He doesn't like those things. But he will eat them, because its what they deserve and he doesn't like the cold squishy texture of frogs.

"Thank you." He says.

At the mention of feathers, he realizes he has to make himself a nest... One big enough for him and however many kits he'll have. He hopes it's only one. Looking at the rat, he realizes....He doesn't feel like eating. But he knows he has to, for his sake as well as the kits inside. He glances back to Smogmaw. Should he just go and spill the beans, or should he wait for Smogmaw to confirm that he's going to ask what he thinks he is?

He decides to let the deputy confirm his question.​

 

[Halfshade]

"Applekit, shush, Smogmaw is right-you're going to be an apprentice soon anyways and then you get to go be stuck in the other crowded den." A lick to the torbie kit's head was given, both an attempt to put her fur back in order and to soothe her tiny complaints before her mismatched gaze focused back on Frostbite. Her friend had never seemed the type to be one for romance, she'd thought for the longest time that he just wasn't interested at all and now here he was wandering into the nursery with kits on the way. Her mind runs through a mental list of cats in the clan in their age group, who might be the parent and she finds she can not settle on any of them being anything appropriate for the white tom. They just didn't mesh at all, which meant the sire might be from elsewhere. Halfshade came to the same conclusion her mate did with narrowed eyes, but they were more intrigued than bothered; frankly she didn't blame Frostbite one bit. The available sires in this clan were a wretched few, she still thinks highly of herself for grabbing what she deemed the best of the bunch; a wry smile shot the blue tabby's way at the thought.
When Bonefang walked in her hackles rose in instinct before realizing they were only dropping off a congratulations and a gift, good. That was fine. What she didn't need was anymore cats who weren't nursing filling this den and taking up space, she'd chase every single last one out if she had to, but the occasional visit was fine. Stars above if she ever found any cat who couldn't nurse taking up residence in here she'd claw their ears right off.
Turning back to the deputy and Frostbite she whisked her tail out to pull Applekit close, "Whatever chat you might have might be best for elsewhere. The kits don't need to hear your dramatics."
​