“She will.” Leafpool held her gaze steadily. “It takes more than loss and separation to stop a mother from loving her kits. I know that more than any cat.”
Squirrelflight’s throat tightened. Leafpool had been through so much and hadn’t let it change her. Perhaps Sparkpelt would be okay. “I’m going to see the kits,” she meowed.
Leafpool dipped her head. “Come back when you’re done,” she told Squirrelflight. “Sparkpelt will probably wake up soon.”
Squirrelflight glanced at her daughter, still tucked up tight, and headed for the den entrance. Outside, night had settled over the camp. Her Clanmates moved quietly around the clearing as starlight dappled Larksong’s pelt. His kit sheltered in his shadow. Someone had gathered soft moss and tucked it around them, as though hoping to keep them warm. Eyes pricking, Squirrelflight padded softly to the nursery.
Sorrelstripe was asleep in her nest, her own kits curled at her belly. Where were Sparkpelt’s kits? As Squirrelflight blinked through the darkness, Daisy lifted her head. The queen was curled on a bed of bracken, her paws resting protectively around two tiny squirming bundles. “How’s Sparkpelt?”
“She’s recovering,” Squirrelflight told her.
“Good.” Daisy purred. “I expect these two will want to see their real mother soon.” She nuzzled the kits fondly. “Sorrelstripe’s been suckling them along with her own. It’s exhausting for her, so I’ve been keeping them with me when they’re not feeding.” She unfolded her paws. The kits mewled indignantly as she revealed them to the chilly night air. Squirrelflight hurried across the den and nuzzled them. They reached instinctively for her. The smell of them filled her heart, and as they fidgeted blindly, pawing at her nose, she knew with a jolt that she wasn’t expecting a litter of her own after all. It had never been more than desperate hope, and tiredness caused by worry. She’d been foolish to believe she was carrying Bramblestar’s kits. Squirrelflight nuzzled the kits harder, purring, as longing hollowed her belly. If Sparkpelt didn’t want these kits, she would take care of them as if they were her own.
Tiny claws scraped her cheek as the tortoiseshell she-kit rolled away and began pummeling Daisy’s belly. The black tom-kit wriggled after his sister, pressing his face into Daisy’s soft belly fur.
Daisy curled her paws around them once more. “They need names.” She hugged them gently.
Daisy reached toward the moss piled in a soggy heap at the side of the bracken. She hooked a piece and offered it to the kits. Mewling, they lapped at it and began to suckle, each tugging at a corner. “This keeps them quiet while Sorrelstripe rests.”
Squirrelflight was impressed by how quickly they’d adapted to such strange nursing. “They’re going to be great warriors, just like Sparkpelt and Larksong.”
“Of course.” Daisy’s eyes shone in the half-light.
“I’ll see if Sparkpelt is ready to come and see them.” Squirrelflight headed for the den entrance. She slid out and saw her Clanmates gathering around Larksong and the kit. Graystripe and Millie stood in the shadow of the elders’ den. Thriftpaw, Bristlepaw, and Flippaw sat between Ivypool and Fernsong while their Clanmates ringed the clearing.
Bramblestar was heading toward the nursery. “I was just coming to fetch you.”
“What about Sparkpelt?” Squirrelflight scanned her Clanmates.
“She’s here.” Bramblestar nodded toward a shadowy figure padding across the clearing.
Sparkpelt’s green eyes glittered in the darkness as she reached Larksong’s body. She lowered her head and pressed her muzzle against his lifeless cheek. Then she sat beside him and lifted her chin, as though bracing herself for a long night. An owl hooted above the camp.
Squirrelflight moved closer to Bramblestar. “Is she fit enough to sit vigil?”
“If she weren’t, Leafpool wouldn’t have let her come,” Bramblestar whispered.
“What about the kits?” Squirrelflight glanced at the nursery. “She’s hardly seen them.”
“Let her mourn Larksong first.” Bramblestar’s eyes glistened as he gazed at his daughter. “She has moons to spend with her kits.”
Lilyheart padded from between Honeyfur and Leafshade. She touched her nose to Larksong’s shoulder. “Snowbush won’t be lonely anymore.” The small tabby lifted her head, her eyes clouded with grief. Honeyfur and Leafshade huddled beside her. Sparkpelt glanced at them, as though acknowledging their grief, then looked away.
