The Tales of Primrose.

Primrose breathed in the milky scent of her mothers’ fur. The soft, damp moss underneath her fur gave much comfort. She mewed pitifully, when her mothers’ milk didn’t fill up her mouth. Primrose prodded her mother in the side, but she didn’t move. She mewed again, and wobbled to her feet. Primrose climbed over her brother Vixen, and her sister Pixie. Primrose then climbed up her mother’s flank, and dug her little thorn claws into her sleek fur. Her mother didn’t respond, and there wasn’t the familiar feeling of her warmth, and rising flank.

“What’s wrong with mama?” Wailed Pixie. Vixen sat up fluffing his black and white fur, in the cold rain’s. “She’s dead.” He said solemnly. Pixie and Primrose started to wail.

“But where’s Alder?” Pixie said, thinking of her father. “I saw him leave last night! I just thought he had gone to fetch food!” Primrose whimpered. Pixie curled up next to her mother. Her black and white fur sticking out in Clover’s tortoiseshell fur. Primrose looked just like her mother. Dark tortoiseshell, while her littermates had black and white fur like their father Alder.

“We have to leave, and find a new home!” Vixen declared. “No way, I’m staying with mama! She’ll keep me warm.” Pixie mewed. “No, you have to come with us! Mama is cold!” Vixen yowled.

The rain continued to pour down, and Primrose cowered down under her mother. Vixen glanced at her. “We have to leave or the foxes will come! That means you Pixie!” She hissed, but whimpered when she heard the bushes rustle.

 “Ok. Let’s go!” She whimpered. They pattered away from their dead mother, tails fluffed, and heads dropped low. They came to a small bush, that provided shelter. Primrose and her littermates did not know how to hunt, and they were very hungry.

As the morning sun rose Primrose woke up. She saw her sister curled up around Vixen. She heard meows coming from outside. She sat up straight, and crept out of the bush. She saw a large brown tabby tom, a fiery orange she-cat, a small white kit, a small black kit, a gray tom, and a black and white she-cat. She let out a small hiss. They looked down in amusement.

 “Where’s your mother?” Asked the gray tom. “I don’t have a mother!” She fluffed up her fur to look bigger. The kits looked at her strangely. “Are you a home cat?” The white one asked. “Storm!” The fiery cat meowed. “That’s not polite to ask.”

Primrose blinked at them. “No. Who are you?” She asked, hissing again. The brown tabby spoke. “I’m Cody, this white kit is Storm, her littermate is Thorn, the gray tom is Nutmeg, the black and white cat is Flora, and this fiery she-cat is Nuria.” He said whisking his tail. Vixen and Pixie came out behind her. Pixie whimpered at the sight of them.

“You can come with us if you would like. We have a whole Tribe of cats.” Primrose stared up at them in awe. “How many?” Cody looked down on her. “More cats than you have ever seen. Maybe 20!”

“That’s true. The only cats I have ever seen are you, my littermates, and my parents.” Cody looked surprised. “What parents? I thought you didn’t have any?” Primrose shuffled her feet. “My mama died this morning, and my dad is somewhere. Her name is Clover and his name is Alder.” All the cats widened their eyes.

 “Your Clover’s kits! She was in our tribe! So sad she is dead. You might see your father in the tribe. He stops by to share prey.” Cody said. “I’m going with the Tribe!” Declared Primrose. “I’m not,” Pixie said.

“I think I want to be a home cat!” She puffed up her chest, while Storm and Thorn looked disgusted. “Well anyone who wants to come can.” Nuria said, and started walking away. Primrose hopped after her, while Vixen looked uncertain. Pixie was already walking away towards a house.

“I suppose I will come with you.” He walked with Nuria. Pixie looked back on last time, then disappeared into the house. While they were walking the kits played together, sharing stories of the Tribe.

“We hunt, and our leader is Admiral. He is soooo cool! Our to-be leader is Cody. When he becomes a leader, he gets a cool name to! I think his name is going to be Alpha!” They reached a shady forest, and cats were sharing prey, and laying in the sun. Primrose and Vixen gaped around in awe.

They saw a huge white tom with black paws walk up to us. “Admiral this is Primrose and Vixen. They are the kits of Clover and Alder. Clover sadly does not walk with us anymore.” Admiral dipped his head. He whisked his tail, for us to follow him. He led us to a little den with lots of kits and mothers.

“I’m Rocky!” A gray cat pounced on us. Primrose batted at his face. “Hey Frost! Watch this!” Rocky called to his mother. She purred with amusement, as Rocky pounced on a little white cat. “Careful Rocky! Ruby is still healing!” Frost snapped at him.

Outside there was a loud yowling. All the cats got up, and walked into the clearing. Piles of prey were stacked in the middle. Vixen carefully approached the pile, and sniffed it cautiously. He took a bit of a mouse, then devoured it. Primrose curled up, and fell asleep.

Many moons had passed, and Primrose was a grown cat. She licked her tortoiseshell fur clean. Primrose purred, and stretched, her stomach was swollen with Rocky’s kits. It had felt like moons ago when the foxes attacked the Tribe, and Vixen died protecting the kits. The new kits were scrambles up on the high rock, where Alpha slept. The Tribe had suffered many terrible storms, and they kept getting worse. A light drizzle started, and we rushed to our higher dens.

“Another storm! Let's hope this one isn’t as bad.” Thorn hissed. Nutmeg blinked at him. He had brought his herbs, in case Primrose’s kits came. Primrose had been suffering terrible cramps, and her kits were due soon. The water started to rise. Primrose gasped, and collapsed. “My kits!” Nutmeg rushed to her side.

After a few minutes Primrose had three kits. Blizzard, Oak, and Axel. The flood kept getting higher, and the wind was howling. Lightning then struck a tree, and it came smashing down on their den. They all fell into the water. Primrose rose to the surface gasping, searching for her kits. A huge wave a water loomed over her. She shrieked, and grabbed Oak’s scruff. The water came crashing down, then everything went dark.

Primrose woke up in a soft, feathery bed. She blinked her eyes, and coughed. Next to her was Oak. She purred with relief. She blinked again, and looked around. She saw a plump black and white cat.

“Pixie?” She whispered, not believing her luck. Pixie looked up, and padded over to her. “I’m not Pixie. I’m Flo.” “Pixie,” She whispered again. “Where are the rest of my kits.” Pixie looked at her sadly. “We couldn’t find them.” Primrose’s tail drooped.

“I have to go.” She said, picking up Oak. “Wait!” Pixie yelled. Primrose ignored her. She ran out of the house, deep into the woods. Oak struggled. “Where are we going?” She purred. “On an adventure.”

Oak was chasing a squirrel. It taunted him, racing in the trees, just out of his reach. Oak looked just like his father. Broad shoulders, and mangy gray fur. “Where are we trying to go anyways?” Primrose sighed and stood up.

“We are going to a whole different forest to find Alder.” He sighed, and turned around. “Why do you want to see him so bad?” Primrose turned away from her son, but didn’t answer. “Let's go.” She turned, and stalked off.

After walking for days, in the sweltering heat they came across a gorgeous clearing with a bubbling stream, and rocks to shelter in. “Primrose! We must make a Tribe here!” Oak had heard stories about the Tribe, and longed to be in one. Just then about ten cats slide out from the rocks.

A slim black and white she-cat hissed at them. Then blinked. “Primrose?” Primrose purred. She rubbed on her. “This is a perfect place Flora! Do you know what happened to Axel and Blizzard?” Flora stiffened.

“I saw Blizzard with black and white cat…” Primrose gasped. “Alder?” Flora stared at her. “You’re getting old Primrose. Why don’t you stop the adventures, and relax with us?” Primrose laughed. “I’m the old one? You’re older than me!” Flora snorted. “Why don’t we go on an adventure then.”