Writing Piece

I said i wouldn't post any of my poems/ short stories, because i don't want anyone to copy them, but this one is just fan fiction, and i am posting it because i'd like to write with another blogger: firamarine.

Well, here it is... (it's from Warriors (well, my Warriors))

(BTW, his name isn't Fireheart, it's Firestorm) (He's the first kit)

Firestorm’s Dream

Deep in the mists that clung onto leaves as the rain tried in vain to unsettle them, in the forest where no man walked, and a land of cats began, in a territory vast and proud, in a clearing where a few cats waited eagerly for the arrival of their new clanmates, was a den. And in that den lay Mirrorpelt, a beautiful blue she-cat with a silver sheen, and glowing, tired amber eyes, with her four new kits, each special in their own, darling way.

The first, and the only boy, was Firekit, a rambunctious little orange tom with blue eyes, the colour of the night sky, when lovely, picturesque things happen. The second was a sweet, coy she-kit with a soft downy the colour of a pale, spring rose, and eyes of grassy green. She was named Sorrelkit. The third was Fawnkit, a beige coloured kit with large eyes of melting amethyst. The last, and the smallest of the litter, was Cinderkit, a white kit with patches of orange and beige over one eye, her back and belly, paws and tail. Her eyes were a deep, meaningful shade of forest green, and she was the quietest, sweetest little kit of the nursery. Except for maybe Siphenkit.

Lilypetal, another Queen, gave Mirrorpelt a lick on the head, trying not to wake her own young, who had been born only a few moonrises ago, “They’re beautiful,” she murmured, signalling with her tail to Echoleaf, their medicine cat, to go get the father.

Adderleap, Mirrorpelt’s mate had been too afraid to enter the nursery while Mirrorpelt was having her kits, and instead went into the forest to catch a pigeon, his beloved mate’s favourite fresh-kill. He didn’t even want to enter when they were being washed and named; he was too scared that he’d get in the way.

And so now, he walked guiltily in, regretting his decisions to stay away, but proudly because of his young and because in his jaws, he held the largest pigeon any Thunderclan cat had ever caught.

He began to purr when he saw his four gorgeous kits nuzzling their mother’s belly for milk, and he licked Mirrorpelt’s muzzle, “You did well, love.”
Mirrorpelt gave him a playful nip on the neck, and invited him to lie beside her and the kits. And so, as night fell, their even breathing became one.