.::are you my mother?::.

[Harlequin//♥]

||I've become so numb||
||I can't feel you there||
||Become so tired||
||So much more a w a r e||

Harlequin sat in the main camp, eating a thrush, but something was wrong. She half-grunted, half-squeaked, and hobbled into the nursery. She mewed a quick 'hello!' to the other queens and kits in the den, and lay down on a nest with no cat's scent on it. She suddenly froze in pain, her pupils dilating, and the kitting began.

---------------

Soon four kits were suckling, two she-cats and two tomcats. The first born was a tan coloured she-cat with black ears, toes, and tailtip. She had something of a black mask around her eyes, making her look like a wildcat. You will be called Wildkit, Harlequin mewed. The second was a tom, Troutkit. He was, strangely, a tortoiseshell-like tom, and looked similar to Harlequin but without her orange diamonds and with spots rather than stripes. The third born, a she-cat, was dark red. Ochrekit. The last born was a light tan colour, slightly lighter than Wildkit, with a ginger patch on his head. And you are Acornkit.

||I'm b e c o m i n g this||
||All I want to do||
||Is be more like me||
||And be l e s s l i k e y o u||

[◊Acornkit◊]

Tough little nut to crack...

Acornkit, in his infinite capacity to observe, began right away. It was warm. And fuzzy. Warmth, of course, was vital. But food was also. Where wold he get nourishment? Further observation was required. He would have been able to sense through his tightly shut eyelids that it was still dark. However, having never had been exposed to light, he had nothing to compare it to. The ground beneath him was soft, with what he would later come to identify as moss. Other bodies squirmed against him, his siblings, mewling and moving. At this point, they were only competion. Had they already found food? What if they ate it all? His sense of urgency quickened. All of this was only feelings, sensations, without words or images to pin to them. Finally, a delicious aroma filled his tiny nostrils. It drew him irresistably, promising an end to his gnawing hunger, fulfilling his obligation to survive. Tiny limbs flailing, untried muscles working, he began to make his way toward the scent of milk.

You can't reach my world inside