Work Text:
Before there was anything, there was Siblings. They were aware of each other even before their birth; attuned to the comfort of the other small, warm, wriggling bodies pressed against their sides, of the reassuring sound of heartbeats thrumming in time with their own.
Soon after, there was Mother. A purring, providing figure, with flowing milk and rasping tongue. The world was dark but never scary. Not when they lay in Mother's protective circle, with Siblings kneading and feeding beside them.
Soon, there was Light. It shone bright and blinding into newly opened eyes. Siblings squeaked and squinted as they saw each other for the first time.
Their weak, tiny bodies grew stronger with each passing day. They took shaky steps of intrigue into the world, while Mother was a constant presence, an unwavering guardian. Her teeth at the backs of their necks became a familiar sensation as she tried to keep their increasing curiosity at bay. The world was big but never scary. Not when Mother lay purring nearby, watching through half-closed eyes. Not when Siblings wobbled at their sides, keen to discover each new thing together.
Soon, there was Learning. Mother was a strict and attentive teacher, and as Siblings grew, there was a seemingly never-ending flow of things to be taught. When to play and when to be still. Where to explore and where to avoid. How to climb, how to run, how to hunt, how to survive. Their round, kitten-soft bellies became lean; their legs lengthened; their instincts sharpened.
The most important lesson was one that Siblings were not taught yet had silently agreed upon — stay together. It was a lesson made all the more important after Mother left to hunt one day and never came home.
There was no longer Mother. But it was okay. Because there was Siblings.
They did not hunt or venture out alone, never further away from each other than could be seen by their keen eyes or heard by a calling meow. It was the Four of them, always. Shadow Sister, whose pelt was as dark as the inky sky. Soft Sister, as gentle and nurturing as Mother had been. Big Brother, who often guided the way. And Sun Brother, with his vibrant pelt and playful nature.
They knew their world well. They had ventured far, traversing the various walkways and hidden paths, scaling mossy trees and feeling cool metal beneath their paws. But always, they returned Home, to the place where Mother bore them, to the place where they first knew of Siblings and could nestle together as they had since their birth. They were Four, and they were content.
Soon, there was Three.
They'd walked that same path many times. They'd each made the same leap without concern. But that day, something was different. Only three had safely made the crossing. The metal log screeched and dipped in a small but significant movement. Sun Brother dropped, fell, clung on for just a moment, then was gone.
Siblings cried for him, their mournful wails echoing deep down into oily darkness. They always answered each other's calls; it was another lesson that had never needed to be taught, just intrinsically known. When Sibling cries out, Siblings call back.
Sun Brother did not call back. And so Siblings returned home. Alone.
That night, they huddled together for sleep as they always did. Without Sun Brother, the night was cold. Three Siblings pressed closer together but could not fill the empty space.
When they awoke, they were still only Three. Siblings sniffed the air, but all that could be found of Sun Brother’s scent was the faded remnants of yesterday. Big Brother led them back to the place where it all went wrong. They peered over the edge again but could see only black. Soft Sister trilled, a sad and quiet sound. Big Brother, provoked into action, yowled loudly, but it was only his own meows that answered. Shadow Sister was silent. When the sun was high in the sky, she began to hunt. Hunting, she could do. And Siblings, of course, followed her. Stay together, always. Four Siblings. Minus one.
This was not like losing Mother, whose absence felt like an inevitability, sad but manageable. No. Losing Sun Brother was something else entirely. This was Pain. This was Hurt. This was a gaping wound, a sudden blindness, an aching emptiness that was not filled by prey or sleep or the passing days.
The world was big and dark and scary. And Siblings were alone.
The sun set on another day without Sun Brother. This night, Siblings did not pile atop each other to fill the void, but instead nestled in an arc, leaving a space where Sun Brother should be. In their sleep, each unknowingly stretched a paw or flicked a tail into the empty cavity, reaching for their missing littermate.
Siblings did not know where Sun Brother had gone. They did not know of the world laying far below their paws, of the humming neon lights or the fleshy skittering creatures or the kind metal beings that could scratch behind ears in a way that felt just right.
They did not know that, when they felt the whole world begin to shake as a door opened somewhere beyond their view, their brother was the one behind it all.
They did not know that their brother had brought about a new age for an entire civilisation, hailed as a saviour, their brave Little Outsider.
Siblings did not know, and they did not care. They were, after all, simply cats.
What they knew was far greater. As they huddled in their home in the wake of the shaking world, a scent reached their noses, overladen with oil and grime, but familiar nonetheless. A longed-for meow cried out, and Siblings called back without hesitation.
Soon after, there was Sun Brother, appearing before them like a burst of flame. His fur was darkened and dirty, and his paws limped lightly across the ground. But his eyes were bright and his tail was high as he came home to his brother and sisters.
The world had just gotten bigger but it was not scary. Not when they were together.
Before there was anything, and after there was everything, there was Siblings.