Lakeshine popped her head out of the nursery. “She needs water.”
“I’ll get it!” Willowpaw dashed to the reed bed. Brightsky raced to join her and together they pulled up a clump of dripping moss from the river’s edge. They carried it back to the nursery and passed it to Lakeshine waiting at the entrance.
“I need honey!” Brambleberry called from the nursery.
“Okay!” Birdsong headed for the medicine den.
Crookedjaw exchanged glances with Oakheart as Willowpaw passed him, her jaws dripping with another mouthful of moss.
“It’ll give her energy.”
Willowpaw’s mew was so muffled he could hardly make out her words. Crookedjaw turned to Oakheart, feeling helpless. “We could start collecting bulrushes to make a training wall for the kits?” he suggested.
Oakheart purred. “It’s a bit early for that.”
“There must be something we can do!”
Timberfur caught his eye. “The warrior code doesn’t cover kitting,” he meowed sympathetically. “We can just wait and hope.”
“Unless you want to go in and help,” Rippleclaw muttered.
Crookedjaw shuddered. “No thanks.”
Paws sounded outside camp and Shellheart ducked through the entrance, leading Owlfur, Beetlenose, and Voleclaw. “They made it to Fourtrees and back without meeting anyone.”
Crookedjaw’s whiskers twitched. “You should work on your tracking skills, Beetlenose.”
“Finding cats is different from finding prey.” Beetlenose sniffed. “Cats are smarter than prey—at least
“How’s she doing?” Echomist called into the nursery.
A low groan answered.
“She’ll be fine,” Brambleberry yowled. “Where’s that honey?”
“Coming!” Birdsong was trotting stiffly across the clearing, a lump of honeycomb oozing between her jaws.
Beetlenose flicked his tail. “Hey, Crookedjaw, why don’t you help Brambleberry deliver the kits? You always like to be the center of attention.”
“Why don’t
Beetlenose wrinkled his nose. “I’m a warrior, not a medicine cat.”
Willowpaw wove between them. “Why are you so squeamish?” she chided. “Every cat has kits sometime.”
Voleclaw stared at her. “I won’t!”
Beetlenose walked in a circle around Willowpaw. “You just want to have kits with Crookedjaw,” he taunted.
Crookedjaw nudged the black warrior away indignantly. “That’s not true!”
A mewl sounded from the nursery. Lakeshine slid out. “Two kits!” Her eyes shone in the moonlight. “A tom and a she-kit.”
“Come on, Crookedjaw!” Willowpaw raced for the nursery. Reluctantly he followed, sensing Beetlenose’s mocking gaze. Brambleberry’s face showed in the entrance.
“Can we see them?” Willowpaw begged.
“Okay, but you can’t stay long and don’t lick them. They’re still getting used to their mother.”
Willowpaw squeezed inside.
“Come on.” Brambleberry motioned Crookedjaw in with a flick of her muzzle.
“Um…”
She rolled her eyes. “Toms!” she sighed. “It’s no scarier than a battle, I promise.”
Crookedjaw heaved himself through the entrance, suddenly aware of how much he’d grown. It was hard to believe he was ever small enough to hop in and out of the nursery without effort. Inside it was stifling. The air was dark and heavy with a strange scent. He could hardly see Shimmerpelt’s crow-black pelt in the shadows, but the mewling of tiny kits filled his ears.
“Look!” Piketooth was crouching beside Shimmerpelt, his eyes shining.
“They’re our new denmates!” Frogkit was peering proudly over the side of his nest.
“We’re going to be the first ones to play with them
Willowpaw was staring into Shimmerpelt’s nest. Crookedjaw peered in nervously. Two tiny kits wriggled against Shimmerpelt’s belly. One was as brown as her father. The other had a black pelt as smoky as mist on the river at night.
“Here are Blackkit and Skykit,” Shimmerpelt murmured.
Skykit raised her muzzle, eyes closed, pink mouth opening to cry. She looked so tiny and helpless, Crookedjaw wanted to wrap his tail around her.
Willowpaw pressed against him, purring. “Welcome to RiverClan, kits.”
Crookedjaw shifted his paws. “They are kind of cute,” he muttered grudgingly.
Crookedjaw curled wearily into his nest. Whitefang was already snoring. Oakheart was giving his paws a final wash. Crookedjaw tucked his paw under his nose and closed his eyes. He was desperate for sleep but he couldn’t relax. What if Mapleshade had seen him mooning over the kits with Willowpaw? She’d claw him for sure. He could imagine her hissing that he was a warrior not a queen; that he should be out hunting for his Clan, not huddled in the nursery imagining what it’d be like to sit next to Willowpaw as she cared for their kits.
