A warrior born

Cruithne kissed his wife Eithne’s paw and smiled. Surrounding her on the bed were seven perfect kittens, eyes shut, all nudging each other, trying to get close to their mother. A little white female kept pushing her way in, knocking the other kittens off their stumbling paws. Cruithne leaned over and picked up the mewling bundle of fur.

‘You, little one, will be trouble, that’s for sure,’ he laughed holding the kitten to his face. The kitten stretched out her paws and extended her claws. ‘Look at her, she’s already like a little warrior,’ he said nuzzling the kitten’s fur.

‘Cruithne, put her down,’ said Eithne, rearranging the kittens so they could feed from her, ‘you’ll upset her.’

The kitten swiped out with her paw and Cruithne flinched, a bubble of blood began to form on his nose. He rubbed it, smearing the blood on his fur then kissed the kitten, placing her back beside her siblings and watched as she pushed herself in to suckle from her mother.

‘She’s a warrior for sure, this one,’ he said unable to stop himself from reaching out and stroking the kittens sparkling white fur.

‘Brigid,’ said Eithne, Cruithne looked up at her puzzled. ‘We should call her Brigid, after the Goddess.’

Cruithne smiled, ‘yes, Brigid suits her,’ he said. ‘I have the distinct feeling that little Brigid will be a force to be reckoned with in years to come.’

Eithne watched the kittens as they fed, ‘just like her father,’ she replied, smiling at him.

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