Poolstar’s Choice

Prologue
A deafening boom sounded above the RiverClan hollow before a white hot streak of fury split the sky. Heavy rain pounded hard on the carefully woven reeds that made up the nursery roof. Sweetfoot laid in agony in the den, spasms of pain tearing through her body as she tried to give birth to her kits.

“Push harder!” Whiskerface yowled, his words barely heard over the roaring rain. Sweetfoot gasped as another spasm ripped through her.

A brown tom came crashing into the nursery, drenched and exhausted.

“Use this stick!” he yowled pushing a thick stick towards her. Another crack of thunder sounded in the sky, making the nursery shake. The young tom was lurched forward falling in a heap on the other side of the den.

“I can’t do it!!!” Sweetfoot wailed just as another spasm overcame her. Her musky brown body shook violently and she bit down hard on the stick. It snapped clean in half sending splinters into her muzzle.

Whiskerface bent down and yowled into her ear. “Just one more push!”

Sweetfoot felt her screaming body coil in on itself as she forced out a tiny wet bundle of fur. The young tom leapt up and starting licking the small kit furiously.

“Well done!” Whiskerface praised. “One more to go!”  Sweetfoot had never felt pain like this before, pain that tore through her whole body making it feel as if she was burning alive. She wailed as a terrifying boom rang out sending furious forks of lightning dancing dangerously close to the hollow. A fit of spasms ran through Sweetfoot’s body, shaking her and making her screech. Another small pile of soggy fur was pushed out. Sweetfoot lunged forward clamping her jaws around the two kits to bring them closer. Whiskerface and the young tom raced out of the nursery to tell the other cats about her successful kitting. A muscular black tom pushed through the reeds at the entrance. His pelt was drenched, plastered to his frame so that Sweetfoot could see every muscle.

“Sweetfoot!”

“Barkeye!” She beckoned her mate over with her tail. “Come quick so we can name them!” Barkeye trotted over crouching down in front of her. “We should call this one Muskykit.” He yowled over the rain as he stroked the first born. Sweetfoot nodded weakly her approval. “And this one will be Poolkit!” Her words were barely audible as a gale ripped through the nursery. A bolt of lightning lit the sky as it crashed into a tree at the edge of the hollow. Sweetfoot gasped. A shuddering cough ran through her igniting flames of pain. Barkeye nuzzled her flanks. “It’s ok Sweetfoot, stay with me…stay with me.” Sweetfoot looked at her mate longingly, her heart brimming with love. “I…can’t…” she wheezed. There was a thunderous crack and Whiskerface ran into the den with a panicked she cat hot on his paws. “WE HAVE TO LEAVE NOW!!!” he screeched. The she cat stared wildly at the cats. “A tree has fallen! There’s fire in the hollow!!!”

Barkeye yelped and leapt to his paws. “Sweetfoot get up!!!” Sweetfoot tried to stand but her legs were to weak and she crumpled down. “Go!” she yowled. “Take the kits and go!” Barkeye store at her in disbelief. “NO your coming with!”

“LEAVE!” she hissed. Another cough caught her and she stretched her eyes wide as the agony of it hit her. She fell limp, and her gaze went blurry. The only think she could hear was her mate screaming out her name. She feebly pushed a kit away from her using the last of her strength. And then she drew one last breath, letting the grip of death overcome her.

“NOOOO!!!” Barkeye screeched. “SWEETFOOT!!!”. He watched in agony as his mate’s eyes clouded and her whole body went limp. “Sweetfoot!!” he wailed again. The rain got even heavier until the reeds of the nursery couldn’t hold the force of it anymore. The reeds gave way and the rain flooded through the nursery. Barkeye managed to clamp his jaws around Poolkit before Whiskerface started pushing him out. “Muskykit!” Barkeye screeched.

“There’s no time! Just take the one you got and go!!!”  Barkeye raced out of the den with Whiskerface right beside him. The hollow really is on fire! Flames engulfed the RiverClan home. Their dancing tips licking hungrily at anything they were in reach of. Cats ran for their lives leaping over the grass wall, their screeches whipped away by the furious gale. This time Barkeye didn’t hesitate. Water was lapping at his paws and fire was groping for his flanks as he sprinted. A flood and a fire! Poolkit was wailing with terror and confusion as she was raced across the camp. Barkeye leapt over the grass wall with ease continuing to sprint away. The RiverClan cats were all around him, pelting against the force of the wind.

“To the barn!” some cat yelled. Barkeye changed his direction to the barn, a dark looming shape not too far away. A crack of thunder boomed menacingly making the cats run faster. So close! So close! The wooden floor of the barn was only a few tail lengths away. The rain pounded harder and faster making seeing ahead seem impossible. So close! So close! Finally, Barkeye felt his paws land on the soft partially rotten floor of the barn. Cats poured in after him all sighing with relief. Barkeye gently placed a wailing Poolkit down feeling himself collapse as his exhausted legs gave way, too weak to hold the wait of his drenched pelt.

Whiskerface and his apprentice Troutpaw were padding around the barn, checking each cat’s injuries and trying to help with the shock. Whiskerface looked rattled and Barkeye noticed a patch of missing fur on the medicine cat’s leg where the flames had just nicked him.

“Cats!” RiverClan’s leader Mistystar had moved to the centre of the barn. “We are facing a terrible storm. Our camp has been destroyed and we have lost two cats.” Barkeye felt unbearable grief wash through him as he remembered grey swirling water washing over his mate’s lifeless body. As he remembered the same grey swirling water drowning Muskykit. “but don’t stress!” Mistystar continued, “The storm will pass overnight and tomorrow at dawn we will travel back to the hollow to start repairing it. We will bury our dead clanmates’ bodies and give them a proper fare well. Now get some rest. Tomorrow we will need as much strength as we can get.” All though the old silver she cats words were strong and convincing, Barkeye couldn’t help but notice the flicker of worry and fear in her eyes as she turned away. A small furry body pressed against his own. Twitching his whiskers in slight amusement, Barkeye wrapped his tail around the kit keeping her as close to him as possible. You’re the last bit of Sweetfoot I have. Thunder rumbled above the barn. Suddenly distraught he pressed his eyes shut. How can RiverClan survive?