A Fanfiction On The [100 Themes Challenge]

By Clever

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My mother’s name is Fawnspeckle. She’s a beautiful, long-haired she-cat with dark brown fur and lighter coloured spots dappling her back. She has a cream chest and white stockings. She’s my light in the darkness, someone that I can always turn to in my time of need. She is happy and bubbly, a real sweetheart. When I’m sad, she whispers kind words that will always help.

I’m curled up against her plush, cream belly, nestled in her warm fur as I nurse. Her belly is so inviting, bringing the promise of good milk to drink as well as a cozy place to hide in. And my Mom is a very fluffy cat, so when I’m nursing, sometimes the only part of my body visible is my white tipped tail. Mom says I get my fur from my Dad, which is why I’m not fluffy like her.

I don’t know my Dad. According to Mom, he was a pale tom with sleek fur like mine. She says I get my colour from her, but I don’t like to believe her. She says that he’s light ginger, but I’m dark like her. She tries to tell me that he’s why I’m ginger, but I don’t listen.

Once I asked her if he had any redeeming qualities. He sounded like a bland and boring cat to me, but Mom was truly in love with him, so there had to be something that made him special. I was curled up in her front paws when I asked what made her fall in love with him.

“Well,” Mom had told me, “looks aren’t everything. He may have just been a plain ginger cat with a dark muzzle, but his personality made up for it in every way possible.” My eyes were large when I looked up at her. “He was kind of shy actually. He was a sweet and timid, but never hesitated to tell someone how he was feeling. He was quite the charmer.”

Another time I asked her who Dad was. Her response was very vague, only telling me his name and that he left the Clan before I was born. “How long before?” I had asked. “A couple moons,” she had replied. My father’s name was Dawnfoot, because of his colours and speed.

Because of this, my Mom is the one cat I’m close to. Without a father, she’s my everything, my saving grace. I had stared up into her bright eyes one time as she looked down at mine, her gaze fond. “You get your eyes from your father,” she had murmured.

I have bright, sparkling blue eyes, that Mom says look like crisp and clean hot springs. I don’t know what those are, but she says that we have some on our territory. My Mom’s eyes are beautiful. They are a luminous shining amber that twinkle with happiness.

So anyways, I’m curled up and drinking milk when my Mother says, “alright, Vixenkit. Time to go to bed.” I whine in protest, which she ignored, tucking me into a ball. She curled up around me, her plush fur surrounding me on all sides.

I wanted to stay up, but it was clear that Fawnspeckle wanted me to sleep. I was, after all, still very young and needed rest. But I wanted her to whisper me funny stories and tell me more things about Dad, but I heard her start to snore as the shadows of the den fell atop us. I could hear the breathing of my denmates as I closed my eyes, forcing myself to sleep.


I was lying in my nest when Fawnspeckle opened her mouth to speak. “You are ready to start eating real prey now,” the she-cat said as she licked my forehead lovingly. I felt colour drain from my face as she said that.

“What?” I asked, flailing my white paws in the air.

Mom nodded her dark head. “You’re four moons old, Vixenkit, and my milk will dry up soon,” she told me. “All your denmates eat real prey.” She looked down at me, like she was willing me to understand. I was someone with a hard opinion to change. I looked around. Smudgekit and Trilliumkit were older than I was, and they were sharing a small vole.

Redkit, who was a loner kit, was the oldest in the den, and would be an apprentice soon. Of course he ate real prey, if he didn’t I’d be very concerned. Reedflicker was a new queen in the den, who was suckling her two kits, Bristlekit and Rustkit.

“Not all of them,” I pointed out, indicating the two moon old kits. Fawnspeckle rolled her eyes, a small smile on her lips.

“I’ll get you a piece of prey,” Mom told me. She got up after nuzzling my forehead, and shook out her massive, fluffy pelt. I watched her go through my bright blue eyes as her dark, sweeping tail disappeared as she left. I looked around at the other kits. Mom had mentioned them just now, and I never paid much mind to them.

Smudgekit was a small, pale brown she-cat with smudged black spots on her and large, milky amber eyes. Her sister Trilliumkit was a cream tabby with faint markings and white splotches, with bright green eyes. Redkit was a white tom with a russet muzzle and paws.

I twisted my neck around to see that pale creamish-ginger Reedflicker. Bristlekit was a grey-tan tabby tom, and Rustkit was a ginger tabby tom. They were both curled up tightly and whimpering quietly as they nursed. Reedflicker looked down at them with such a fondness that made me already miss nursing.

Mom reappeared at the entrance of the den, a small morsel dangling from her jaws. I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. It didn’t look very tasty, that’s for sure. She walked towards me and dropped the mouse at my paws. I sniffed it cautiously, Mom watching me with expectant eyes.

I slowly opened my mouth to take a bite, glancing up at my Mom. My jaws clamped down on the piece of prey, and I started to chew, shivering at the feeling of fur against my tongue. I swallowed with a shudder. It didn’t taste bad, so I took another bite. The fatty flesh was alive with flavours as I swallowed it, quickly devouring the mouse. Mom purred with amusement, her whiskers twitching.

“See, wasn’t so bad was it?” She asked, to which I responded with a yawn. The food sat warm and happy in my now-full belly, and I decided it was time for a nap. I curled up and shut my eyes, and felt Fawnspeckle settle down beside me, her warm tail kinking around me.

“Can you tell me a story about Dad?” I asked her drowsily.

I felt her stiffen, straightening up. “Let’s not talk about him,” she told me, an icy edge to her voice. I was surprised, and slightly scared. What happened to Mom? She was always more than happy to tell me stories of her former mate, why didn’t she want to this time?

Confusion clouding my brain, I tucked my muzzle into my tail. Things were going to get complicated...