[ti]Open[/ti]Boy, Oh Boy!

[Fireflake]

Ripples pulsed through Mantisclaw's body, then finally ended as her last kit arrived. The kitting had gone down roughly like that nursery rhyme she'd heard when she was younger. One tom, two toms, three toms, four, five toms, six toms, seven toms, more. She was surrounded by them, and longed for Ruststripe or Milkberry to show up, or Tickstorm, or Agavefeather, regretting her decision not to give anyone any warning. Usually it wasn't an issue. She liked to hang around toms just as much as she-cats. Mantisclaw just got a bit tired of them when she had to push five of them out of her, somewhat unfairly bitter that they'd never have to go through the same thing.

The tabby queen raked in shallow breaths, her claws digging into the ground as she lay on her side. She vaguely remembered screeching at someone that she was pushing, some time around the third kit, so for now she was alone. Or, more accurately, she and her kits were alone. Instinct and long-buried memories had luckily taken over to make sure the spawn were breathing and warm enough, but now she was ignoring them as they nestled against her belly. Glancing at them out of the corner of her eye, she silently admitted that the little lumps were a lot more endearing outside of her.

Pawsteps approached, and Mantisclaw curled herself slightly tighter around the little ones, but felt too tired to look up and check who it was.

[gingersnapsdacat]

    As soon as Ruststripe set paw back in camp, she made a beeline for the nursery. For the past moon, she and her apprentice had been trying to bring in loners and rogues, as per EveningStar’s request. Of course, they were not the kind of bloodthirsty killers that Eveningstar had wanted, but ruststripe had to have her rebellion somehow. She had used his madness as an opportunity to invite in the cats who she really did think should join MothClan; those who needed a home. But as of late, she had spent a good portion of her time in and around the nursery, or off gathering moss with her apprentice, trying to make things ready for the kits that her mate, Milkberry, and her daughter, Mantisclaw, were carrying.
    “I brought some more moss for you!”
    The striped she-cat called to the queens as she padded down into the nursury. Ruststripe stopped, her eyes landing on the five little fuzz balls that lay tucked beside Mantisclaw’s side. It was only recently that she had learned of her daughter’s pregnancy, much less expected the kits to arrive. Of course, she could recall her daughter feeling a bit ill, but at the time, Ruststripe had been focused on trying to understand what was going on with their leader. She had taken Mantisclaw’s words at face value, and hoped that she would heal. Perhaps, she expected, Mantisclaw had been hiding her pregnancy because of EveningStar’s...problems. But that was not what was important right now.
    “Oh Mantisclaw….they’re beautiful,” she purred, bending to touch her daughter’s nose.
    She allowed her daughter to rest, moving onto the kits for a moment.
    Five toms! Ruststripe chuckled to herself, thinking of when Mantisclaw and the rest of her siblings were kits. Prepare yourself for a real pawful.
    Ruststripe examined each of Mantisclaw's kittens individually, marveling at their unique traits. She could spot traits that originated from Mantisclaw, such as broad chests or a lean build. But as for their pointed pelts, or grey stripes, Ruststripe did not know the source. Come to think of it, she did not know who had sired her daughter's kits. But she was not going to pry. Her daughter did not have to tell her anything that she did not wish to.
    “Have you thought of any names yet?” she mewed, looking at the exhausted queen. “You know, Lonerkit, Ruststripekit, or Roguekit could always be good.” She teased her daughter, remembering the joking names that she had tried to give Mantisclaw and the others when they were first born.
"Or, I do believe I meant to call you Buckkit."

[Fireflake]

Mantisclaw's ears twitched up at her own mother's voice, and she felt relief spring to her heart. Ruststripe was exactly the cat she'd been hoping for. The other she-cat bent to touch her nose, and Mantisclaw slowly raised her head to meet her halfway. "I'll take your word for it..." she murmured. She rested quietly as Ruststripe looked the kits over, sure that she'd point it out if there was anything wrong with any of them. A soft groan emanated from her throat at the question of what she'd name them, as if it had been sprung on her unexpectedly, and not one of the first things many queens thought of.

She glanced down to the little ones. Wrigglykit, and Wetkit, and Suckykit... It was probably best that she didn't name them just yet. A little chuckle followed the suggestions, but a purr seemed like too much effort. "Did you? Not after that loner that Dad and Brackenfall had to chase off?"
The queen had heard the story before, from a few different angles, though the details had become skewed to time. "Hmph! Well, I think I've had enough of rogues without naming my kits after them, but Lonerkit and Ruststripekit... I'll have to have a think on that."

A look of tired amusement soon faded to a more serious look. "I did think of one name, actually. I thought that, maybe, I might call one of them... Strikekit."
Mantisclaw's yellow gaze, which had been dulled with pain and fatigue since she neared the end of the kitting, now sharpened considerably at the memory of Hornstrike.