Pacing back and forth in front of the bedroom door, Paxton's ears pinned against his head every time he heard an ear splitting screech from inside. His mate Aphrodite was in a lot of pain right now. She was giving birth to their children anyway. But was it really that painful? And how much longer was this going to take? His mate had been locked up in the bedroom with their owner ever since this morning when she first went into labor. It was now the middle of the night.

Just then, Paxton heard footsteps coming towards the door. A moment later, it opened up to reveal his owner, an older woman with long gray hair flowing down her back. Tears were running down her wrinkly face. Dropping down to her knees, the old lady scooped up Paxton and cradled him in her arms. Confused by what was going on and why his owner was sobbing into his black and white fur, the young tom cat peered over the lady's shoulder. Spotting the blanket in the corner, he squirmed his way out of her arms and padded over.

He was greeted by his worst nightmare.

Originally the blanket was soft and pink. However, there was now a giant red stain of blood on it. And it was all coming from Paxton's mate Aphrodite. The gray cat laid there panting, a little bit of blood trickling down from the corners of her mouth. Noticing that her mate was there, she weakly lifted her head. Bumping his nose gently against her own, Paxton mumbled, "Aphrodite, are you okay? What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry Paxton..." Aphrodite whimpered, shaking. Coughing up drops of blood, she nuzzled his face as she croaked, "Take care of our daughter..." The young gray cat suddenly entered a coughing fit, wheezing like she was trying to hack up her lungs and other vital organs. Paxton, unable to do anything, watched in horror as she gave out one final cough before her green eyes rolled into the back of her head. One last breath escaped from her lips before she fell back against the bloodstained blanket.

She was dead before she hit the ground.

"Aphrodite!" Paxton wailed, his tail puffing up. Leaning down, he nuzzled his mate's face. He silently whimpered and begged for her to wake up, to come back to him. But it was already too late. She was gone forever. Consumed by grief, the black and white cat never even once looked down at the five kittens pressed up against his mate's stomach. Four of them were boys and they looked like him. They were also all dead, all stillborn. The fifth and last kitten, a gray tabby, was the runt of the litter.

And she was still alive.