"Dammit, Denmark!" You hissed, (h/c) fur bristling. "What did I tell you about climbing on stools!?"
The long haired orange-and-white kitten glanced down at you briefly from atop the wobbly stool. He turned his nose up at you.
"I'm the King! You can't tell me what to do!"
You growled, sitting down and forcing your fur to lie flat.
Your owner had left the house for a couple of days, leaving you to watch over your 5 adopted kits for the time being.
And they were a damn handful.
Denmark, the kit who you were currently busied with, was insanely obnoxious, and claimed to be 'King of the House'. Then there was Sweden, a dark gray kit with a white chest and the most soul piercing stare you had ever seen on a cat so young. Finland, the baby of the group, was a tan and white kit. He was a sweetheart, but a very fragile one. Norway, a large, long haired white kitten, didn't really give you any problems, but you had caught him attempting to strangle Denmark with his own collar on more than one occasion. The last of the five was Iceland, a tiny white kit with a black spot over one of his eyes. He and Norway didn't get along as well as you would hope, but they didn't try to kill each other, so you were content.
"Den, please." You began. "You need to come down from there. You might ge-"
You jerked, accidentally bumping the stool with your head, sending Denmark toppling over towards the cold tile of the kitchen floor. Moving as quick as you could, you caught him in your mouth by the scruff of his neck right before he hit the ground, placed him on the floor, and braced yourself for the impact of the other ball of fur that was barrelling in your direction.
Finland slammed into your side with a grunt, before dizzily pulling his face out of your fur and staring up at you with big, frightened eyes.
"M-mama! There's something hiding in the bushes outside!"
You blinked down at him, cocking your head. "Oh?"
The tiny kitten nodded, nuzzling up against you. He was shaking like a leaf! You leaned down and gently licked the top of his head.
"Well, don't worry about it, sweetheart. If it comes out of its hiding place, I'll protect you."
You began to purr heavily in an attempt to soothe the tiny tom.
"Of course, baby."
Denmark snorted. "Baby is right."
You turned to him, ears pushed back, tail swishing. "Denmark..." you hissed dangerously.
His expression faltered for a moment before he regained his composure and stood, stalking away with his tail held high.
You sighed and dropped your head, focusing on Finland once more. You blinked when you caught the scent that way coming up from his fur.
"Finny, why do you smell just like Sweden?"
He looked up at you. "He was resting against me.."
You were about to respond when you felt something bump into your back. You twisted your head around to see what it was.
'Well!' You thought. 'Speak of him, and he shall appear!'
Sweden stood behind you, staring at you with his sharp, crystal blue eyes. You turned around to fully face him, pressing your forehead against his own.
"Hi sweetie~!" You meowed, nuzzling him quickly before leaning back to survey him. You took note of his slightly distraught expression. "Something wrong?"
"Mama..." he began, voice filled with urgency. "There's a dog in the yard!"
You jolted up onto all fours.
You turned to Finland, who had resumed his shaking, and nudged him in Sweden's direction with your paw
"You two stay here, I'll go find Norway and Ice."
After making sure that they would follow your directions, you bounded out of the living room and into the kitchen, and out through the cat flap of the back door.
And your heart nearly stopped.
Iceland and Norway were huddled up together, puffed up and shivering, while a large black and tan dog, probably a Doberman, stood about 3 feet away from them, barking madly.
Your instincts went into overdrive at that moment. With a loud yowl, you leapt from where you stood and onto the dog's neck, claws extended. You sunk your teeth deep into the flesh of the large creature, past it's fur and skin. The dog howled in pain, but managed to toss you off. When you hit the ground, you immediately righted yourself and rushed to stand in front of your kits.
The Doberman snarled at you, and you hissed in response, back arched, fur on end. Your (e/c) eyes were wild with fury, and you were ready to protect your young at all costs.
Without waiting for it to make it's move, you lunged at the beast, digging your claws into the top of it's head and tearing at it. The canine reared up onto it's hind legs like a frightened horse before it lost it's balance, tumbling backwards into the grass with one of your hind legs caught in its jaws. You screeched in agony.
"MAMA!!" You heard Norway's frantic mew from somewhere behind you. You twisted around as best as you could, still scratching desperately at the dog's face.
"Go! Get inside!" You called back at them.
They didn't need to be told twice. Norway grabbed Iceland by the scruff of his neck and ran into the house, nearly smashing into the door in his haste.
It was a full 10 minutes before you staggered back into the kitchen, scratched up and bloody. All five of your youngsters were huddled around the cat flap anxiously.
"Mama, you're hurt...!" Finland meowed, rushing up to you. You collapsed weakly onto the floor in front of him,
"Its...its okay, baby. You're safe. All of you...are safe. The dog...its...its gone now..."
Sweden slowly padded over to you, laying down at your side. Carefully, he began to lick your wounds, purring softly.
You were grateful for his sudden attention. You were too weak to lift your head, let alone clean the blood from your body.
As if following some unheard command, your other four kittens came as close to you as possible, snuggling into your body.
Iceland wiggled his way under your chin, while Norway rested his head and front paws atop your own. Sweden stayed where he was, while Finland moved to snuggle into your other side, and Denmark, always the overachiever, crawled up to lay on your back.
"Mama...you could've died.." Iceland mewed. His voice was monotone, as usual, but laced with concern.
"But I didn't, did I? I wouldn't dare die and leave you all."
"But, man, that dog really tore you up!"
"...that's not helping, Denmark." You deadpanned, ears dropping.