(Ok, before I start. Would you rather prefer me continuing a fanfic about Larkokid, writing a fanfic about Juniboi, or a fanfic about Cherryblossom? Let me know lmbo) (oof also spoiler warning: lark's papa is not a nice dude) ~~~As the early morning sun shone through a makeshift wall, a small kit wriggled next to his mother, mewling loudly for his mother to defend him against all who would hurt him. His mother licked his head, quite worriedly, actually, and her gaze averted up to the entrance of the enclosed area they were in almost every couple of moments, and in between licks. The kit had calmed down, luckily, so the mother's adrenaline rush had died down. She continued grooming her son before a looming appearance cleared his throat. The mother looked up, seeing what she had dreaded so much. Her mate. She quickly shoved the kit closer to her, trying to hide him in her fur. "What do you think you're doing?" The father asked, not amused. The mother's heart started beating rapidly, knowing what would be the inevitable outcome of this confrontation. She swallowed her fears, opening her mouth to speak. The father shushed her. "Don't. I know what you're doing. It was rhetorical. You should know this by now." The mother ashamedly nodded. "You should be out there, hunting for your clan. You weren't there when those rogues invaded our camp, and why was that?" he spoke with such a vehement tone, and the mother stood silent. The father looked down at the frightened she below him, and gave a disgusted sigh. "Get up." The mother sat where she was, which put more fuel in the already raging fire. "What're you doing? I said get up." "What I'm doing," the mother fought back, finally taking enough of this violent cat and mouse game. "Is saying no. No to you, that is. So leave me and our-" she cut herself off, realizing the outcome of this accidental revelation. "Our?" The father chuckled, void of warmth. "Our what? Have you been lying to me, too?" As if on a horribly timed cue, the small kit wriggled out from his mother's fur, mewling. He was hungry. His mother tried shushing him, but his hunger was greater than any cat's willpower over him. He started crying, getting hungrier by the second. "This, this ugly thing? Is apparently our kit? You were pregnant for all this time?" the mother hesitantly nodded, shrinking away from the father, wrapping herself around the kit instinctively. He looked down at her with a gaze that was both cold and flaming, greater of a hate-filled gaze than she had ever seen. "Well, he definitely has your looks. I can't wait until he dies the night before his apprentice ceremony." He was never seen again by the both of them.