Pain. That was Itzels companion, for how long she didn't know. Her wounds had become infected, and she lay, rotting away in the stump. Scratch rarely came near, only feeding her. She hated him, and she wished she could do something, anything to him, but she couldn't. He would kill her. And as awful as her condition was, she didn't want to die. Not now.

She remained in a state of stupor, barely able to move, barely able to eat. What would happen when the kits came she didn't know, but she tried not to think about it. She hurt all the time, and while she was still fat with kits her bones were clearly visible beneath her threadbare pelt. And then they came. It was the middle of the night, and an even greater wave of agony than anything else she had been forced to endure shook her through.

With a yowl of anguish she clenched her teeth down, and her body convulsed violently. It was just as bad as she had remembered and dreaded, and she let another yowl of pain break the night silence. A small thing slid from her, and then another as she continued to scream in pain. Scratch would surely be awake now, but she didn't give a thought to him. There were four kits on the ground eventually, and she lay gasping for breath.

What she wanted to do was nothing. Leave them to die in their tiny sacs, not break them free or clean them or anything. Her sides heaved flatly up and down, and she did manage to clean the four of them, with no love, only a need to do it so she wasn't hurt by the tom who had fathered them. They were small and thin as well, almost as malnourished as she was, and she let her head flop to the ground. She didn't bother moving them towards her milk or naming them.

He had heard the first yowl, but didn't hurry over. He imagined it was the kits, and he was there to see the final one drop onto the ground. The lack of mothering from Itzel worried him, as did the frailty of his new apprentices. She at least didn't leave them to drown, but that was all she did. He would have to fix that. Not now though. Now he had to make good on a promise.

Shouldering and clawing an opening large enough for himself, he seized all four of the kits and carried them with a surprising amount of care, one by one to the nursery area. He then returned for Itzel. Hooking his claws into her shoulders with none of his earlier care, he dragged her out. She tried to resist, but he pried her mouth open quickly. Claws fished about for a second before they found her tongue.

In a moment her mouth was dripping blood, and the meat was flung away, as if useless, unimportant. It was now he supposed, as he fastened his teeth into her scruff and dragged her to the nursery area. Dropping her carelessly, he spat You will nurse the kits now. before going off to get her some prey. He supposed he would have to feed her a bit more now, if only enough to keep her alive and producing milk.

Wincing again and again in pain as she was dragged into the area she herself had prepared, Itzel lay motionless. Her mouth dripped blood and she didn't have the strength to pull the kits to her, at least for a moment. After a moment of Scratch's scorching gaze however, she pulled them to her belly and they began to nurse.

She could tell she didn't have much milk and the small, thin kits squirmed and squeaked, but eventually fell asleep. Hopefully their condition wouldn't anger Scratch, it wasn't her fault after all, but she had a feeling it would. Dabbing lightly with her paw into her mouth, trying to feel what had become of her tongue. Some of it was there, but not enough. She tried to speak, but her words came out garbled, nothing like she intended. Svy? Msi nogue! Svatch, ni crant palc! What possessed a cat to do such a thing?

She was so silly, so dumb, why had she thought it would be any different. He was never going to allow her to talk, not unless the kits had never happened, in which case he would have killed her. His laugh was heartless and cruel as he cackled at her. You should stop even trying! You'll never be able to talk properly again, and if you somehow manage to become somehow coherent I will slice your head off.

He wasn't kidding. The kits would be his and his alone. As the kits fell asleep he stepped menacingly a bit closer. Those kits better be healthy. And the kits after these ones. And the kits after THOSE ones. I want as many possible heirs as possible. He did not intend to stop with these kits. He was going to get more and more and more. Hopefully she could come to terms with that.

The kits were almost a moon old and Scratch called them from the den. Itzel was away doing something, and they were old enough to learn how to fight. Kits, come here. As they lined up in front of him, at least the three that had survived, the fourths death having earned Itzel a missing ear, he surveyed them quickly. They were now looking much more healthy, hopefully they would learn how to fight quickly.

He began his instruction momentarily. All of you need to know how to fight. The first move you need to learn is the belly rake. Try ducking under each other and hitting. No claws just yet, we'll get to that soon enough. Watching as they ducked and smacked he noticed that one of them was particularly good. One! he singled her out quickly. They didn't hav names, they were just numbers for now. Eventually they might earn them, but for now numbers.

I want you to take on both of your siblings. No claws still. he reminded, before settling back to watch. She was more than able to hold her own, and he was somewhat worried by the seeming uselessness of her younger sister. It was more of a one v one than a two v one, and he would have to keep an eye on three.

Itzel moved through the forest. Her legs trembled slightly as she moved, her weakness from the time nursing the kits and lack of movement during that time evident. Her ribs showed prominently along with her hipbones and her paws twitched lightly as if to unsheath her missing claws. Her belly was already beginning to bulge again slightly, filled once again wit kits.

Why Scratch had allowed her this far away without being watched was beyond her, but she wasn't about to argue. She needed to eat. Prey dashed by and she was unable to catch any, her weakness preventing success. Eventually, after what felt like a moon of trying, she was able to catch one very scrawny mouse. It was a meager meal and she knew she hadn't even replaced the expended energy, but she hoped that Scratch would give her more prey. He had to, didn't he?

Your kits aren't up to standard. Scratch snarled as Itzel returned. Only two of them seem to have any skill whatsoever, and even those two aren't on the same level as Rip was. I need you to do two things. First, you need rest. You're far to weak. Second, you will eat more. I will provide prey. After you have your strength up, you will find me a cat. I don't care what kind, but I want a cat. Bring them back, alive, and the kits will learn how to kill. We'll see then if Three is even worth my time.If she wasn't, he would have a small test of the other kits loyalty.

Holly had never expected to scent that smell again. It wasn't him, not in the flesh, but someone who had been close to him recently. Stop. Don't come any farther. You smell like Scratch. Why? It was hostile, but anyone associated with him deserved no kindness. Her hostility turned to confusion as the gray molly opened her mouth, the sounds from her mouth garbled and broken. Vatch vank sit. Ou av sit. Grive row. After a moment of trying to comprehend what was being said, she mewed I can't understand you. Whatever you want, no. No one associated with Scratch can have anything from me. And then she leaped for the other cats throat.

Itzel would not be killed so easily, even in her pregnant state. Slashing her own claws for her attacker, she tried to keep a level head as best as she could. She struck the other molly on the shoulder, but let out a yelp of pain as her own ear unleashed a rush of blood. All this trouble for a cat, who would have thought. Still, it was a relief that Scratch hadn't just decided to kill her instead. Leaping forward viciously, she slashed her claws through a tendon on the back of her opponent's hind leg. As the other she-cat yowled in pain she severed another, and then another and another, rendering Holly almost motionless. She couldn't walk at least.

Bo sit nefekary. she mumbled, before viciously smashing her paw down upon Holly's head, rendering her unconcious before beginning to drag her away. After a moment of though however, she slid into the den the other cat had been guarding, seizing the cat that wasn't really a kit, more of a young cat, without much trouble. Dragging her out to her mother she hissed, one of the only sounds she could still make coherently, before clubbing the molly and dropping her on top of her mother. Seizing their scruffs, she began to journey back to Scratch.

Itzel was exhausted, but she had made it back to the territory of Scratch. Instead of calling to the dark den, she let out a loud, earsplitting, guttural wail. Scratch emerged momentarily, followed by the kits. They weren't hers, she didn't want them and he did. They were just the kits. She didn't speak, but let the sight inform him of her success. Double success really. He purred before informing her quickly Good job. I know these cats, but that doesn't matter. Head off to bed with my kits.

She had done a good job, Itzel, bringing Holly back to him. Quite well incapacitated it seemed, which was something of a bonus. No worries of her doing anything naughty. Carrying them both to the newly repaired stump prison, one of his favorite spots in his camp, he tossed Holly in before picking up the shecat. Huckleberry. One of the deformed cowards who had fled with Holly rather than accept their fate, her small, fragile claws marking her as useless. Splashing water on her to revive her, he began her instructions, his voice silky and slithery.

Hello Huckleberry my darling. Long time since I saw you last. Listen, I have a test for you. I have some new kits, younger and better than you. I want to test them, and you. All I ask is that you don't say your name for the next three nights and days. Next morning, your time starts. If you give them your name, i will kill you. And with that, he went to speak to One, Two, and Three.

Kits! Wake up! We have a few guests I'm sure you've noticed, and I need some information from one of them. A name. I want you to help me. You can not kill her, but do whatever else you wish. You have three days, beginning tomorrow morning. If you do not have the name by the end of that time I will kill three and burn your tails with twoleg fire. he added menacingly, glaring at One and Two. They had better not disappoint him.

Scratch was aloft, high off the ground. He watched as One and Three forced Huckleberry from the stump, and brought her to him. Their plan wasn't a bad one, and he himself was a bit surprised when the ground caved beneath the small she-cat, sending her into a hole. One dropped in with her, her manner sure and confident. He could hear their voices now, rising to his ears.

Tell us the name. No. We'll make you. I can't. I'm going to start with your claws. One voice thin, the other firm, as One stepped forward, a stone in her jaws. Hold her. she muttered around it before dropping the ballast once, twice, a third time on a paw, a few cracking sounds coming from the fragile claws as two of them broke off. Tossing them to the side, the tree kits below unsheathed their own claws before leaping forward, their aim to claw off as much fur as possible.

Huckleberry wailed and flailed aimlessly, but the kits didn't stop. Their ruthlessness was impressive, especially in ones so young. Three was fighting harder than the rest, biting savagely at the eyes, ears and nose of his opponent, blood flying everywhere. He was leaning forward to listen more closely when he heard a sound from the stump. Holly.

Stalking up to the stump, he pried it open quickly with his claws. He'd have to fix it again, but that didn't matter. Hello my love. How's life treated you since you ran away with the abominations? His voice was sickly sweet, and he laughed at her pitiful defiance. You'll claw me and leave again? Really? You, my dear, can barely stand, let alone run away. I'd be surprised if you can ever run again. He had to give it to Itzel, she had done a good job on them, crippling them enough to make their containment easy.

Lashing out suddenly with vicious claws he raked them across her face, taking pleasure in her squeal of pain as red lines opened up all along her nose. You're going to be here for a while darling. Don't worry, I won't kill you. You're far to interesting for that. he purred, before cackling at her next question. Huckleberry? Oh, my NEW kits are trying to find out her name. A test of their interrogation skills. I've told them not to kill her, hopefully the won't get carried away. If they did, no great loss. He could always have them try again with Holly.

How far along are you? Scratch inquired, as the kits bit into the mice Itzel had provided. She was really quite useful, perhaps he would have to let her have a bit more freedom from now on. She didn't seem interested in leaving, although he had made it quite clear that leaving would end in her very dead. Their answers were less than satisfactory, apparently Huckleberry hadn't even said a word yet. He would have to see what they had actually done. Perhaps a few pointers were necessary before they continued.

If she hadn't said anything, it wasn't for their lack of trying. It clearly wasn't the most organized trying, scratches and gashes everywhere on Huckleberry and in the mud told of the fight that had been going on, but she seemed to be remaining stoic. Not as weak as I thought. he grunted, cuffing her lightly on the head. Returning to the den, he called the kits close to him. She;s fairly strongwilled, you need to work harder. I'll give you some ideas later. Now. Are you going to feed her, or not. She's your responsibility now, food, water, whatever. Hopefully they would get the message. No food and water would sap her strength and resolve quickly.

The kits were trying hard, implementing a few of the methods he had given them, although some of the execution was poor at best from Three. Still, Scratch remained quiet until they had returned to their nests, then going to visit Huckleberry to see exactly how they had done. All of her paws were misshapen and flattened, and it seemed as though One had been drawing on her flank in deep scratches, still welling blood. Most striking however was her face, where their attention seemed to have been concentrated. One of her ears was only half the size it should be, and a long line of clawmarks drew a fierce slash across her eye.

As he approached she moaned in pain, and in the dark he could see that her fur was darkened dramatically by the pool of blood she seemed to be lying in. Pulling the cobwebs carelessly off his paw he slapped them onto her most major injuries, the eye and the ear, before leaving again. He didn't want her to die before the kits had their final day of time.

It was almost evening on the final day, and Huckleberry had yet to crack. Scratch watched as she gritted her teeth and stayed silent and Three launched himself at her with increasingly desperate blows. Her body was covered in bleeding wounds, and it seemed as though they had tried to completely destroy one of her hind legs, leaving it a bloodied, shredded mass. He was slicing at her head now, hoping it would be the right, vulnerable part to get the words he needed. Scratch couldn't hear his words, but after a moment he raised his claws and sliced at her eye, clearly damaging it irreparably.

He was trying, trying very hard, but the sun was setting quickly and she still hadn't cracked. The sun sank, and she was silent. Three, angry and bitter lashed out again and again, trying to take her other eye, her other ear, anything, anything. Scratch dropped to the ground, almost squishing them both but spreading his legs at the final moment to avoid crushing them. Seizing Three unceremoniously by the scruff he padded to the river, One and Two trailing nervously behind him. With a huff of dismay, he flung him squealing into the current, watching his small body tumble downstream towards the waterfall and rocks that were intended to be his demise.

Now to deal with the others. He left Huckleberry alone for now, if she bled out in the time it took him to do this it didn't matter to him. It took a while, getting close enough to the twoleg place to find one of their fire-cans, but he found one. Once the twolegs had drunken deeply from their sourbottles he tossed each kitten into it, and they leaped out in an instant, squealing and crying in pain. Weaklings. He spat, seizing them both in his jaws and bounding back to camp. They could figure out what to do from here on their own.

Huckleberry had done better than he expected, but she wasn't out of the woods, not by a long shot. She and her mother were both very injured, and he had no medical knowledge sufficient to fix them. He certainly wasn't going to keep them around if they were useless, which they very well could end up being. Still, he wasn't going to do nothing, so he wrapped the young she-cat completely in cobwebs before placing her in the stump beside her equally immobile mother. They could have a bit of bonding time there. As a bit of an afterthought he dropped a mouse in the stump, figuring if they were that hungry they would move enough tot get to it.

Scratch wasn't sure what he ought to do next, he had two possibly useless cats and two kits who also might not do well. After a moment of thought he decided what he was going to do. Once Itzel and Holly had their kits, they were both pregnant now, he would give One, Two, Itzel, Holly and Huckleberry a test. A fox den was a bit away, and if they could make it into it and out again they were good enough to stick around. If they got killed, oh well! They were dead and were to useless for him to bother with anyway.

Scratch woke up, and had a bit of a nasty start. Itzel was gone. Had she been playing him all along, hoping that bringing him Holly and Huckleberry would mean he would let her go? If she had, she was very, very wrong. She had kits too, he wasn't going to lose them. Dashing after her scent he regretted his trust. She was far away now, it might take all day to track her down. He had to though.

It was almost night when he reached her, his still-superior fitness allowing him to catch up as she neared the twoleg place. STOP! he commanded, bearing down on her as she did indeed skid to a stop. I had hoped you had seen the error in your ways. Realized that I was the one you should owe your allegiance. But it seems I was wrong. And so the fate you gave, which I did admire I must admit, will be yours as well. That was all the information needed really. Leaping forward he sliced along the backs of her ankles before smashing her into unconsciousness. Then back to the den he took her.

So much had been going on lately. Holly wasn't sure how she felt about it, but she couldn't do anything. At least, not directly. She had only just regained full mobility, and while Scratch was putting her to work despite her pregnancy it was something she didn't want to lose. Her large belly swinging as she waddled out of the back entrance to the den, Holly scented the air. She should get hunting, Scratch certainly wasn't going to.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky she continued to hunt, her size hindering her when it came to leaping. So far she had only managed to capture a lizard, which had been sunning itself on a rock, and a very elderly mouse. The mouse was already gone, consumed, poof. Her fur prickled uncomfortably as the sun sank below the trees, casting the forest in an orange glow. She still only had the lizard, and another mouse she had found, which wasn't near enough. But she had to head back, predators were roaming about by now. Dropping her prey at the mouth of the den, Holly retreated to the back of the small cave, hoping that Scratch was in a good mood.