by Erin Hunter
Ravenwing watched her leave. “You have made her feel as if life is worth living again,” he commented. “She took the loss of her brother hard.”
Mapleshade buried her muzzle in the soft, damp fur of her kits. “These kits are my gift to the whole of ThunderClan,” she murmured. “I will thank StarClan for them every day for the rest of my life.”
The medicine cat touched her lightly with the tip of his tail. “And ThunderClan thanks you,” he meowed.
As will RiverClan, Mapleshade added silently. The feud over Sunningrocks will be forgotten when the Clans realize that they share these perfect warriors!
“Are you receiving visitors?” rumbled a voice at the entrance to the nursery.
“Of course! Come in,” Mapleshade mewed somewhat breathlessly while trying to coax the she-kit off the top of her head. At three sunrises old, they astonished Mapleshade with their ability to be all over the nursery at once, while at the same time constantly nuzzling at her belly.
Oakstar’s broad dark brown face appeared through the branches. “Hello, little ones,” he purred.
The she-kit jumped at the sound of his voice. Releasing her tiny claws from Mapleshade’s ear, she slithered onto the moss with a thump.
“This is Oakstar, the leader of ThunderClan,” Mapleshade told her kits. She tried to nudge them into a line. But their eyes were still closed and the smell of a different cat was just too much to resist, so all three tottered toward Oakstar with their stubby tails held straight up, mouths open in high-pitched mews.
Oakstar gently herded them back to Mapleshade with his paw. “I’m not just their leader,” he reminded her. “Birchface was my son. These cats are my kin.” His eyes clouded with emotion as he stared down at the kits. “If only Birchface could see them.”
Mapleshade’s fur felt hot and prickly. “I’m sure he’s watching from StarClan,” she murmured. Beside her, the kits started nuzzling at her belly and fell silent as they began to suck.
“My son was a great warrior,” Oakstar went on. “The Clan is honored if his spirit lives on through his kits.”
There was a rustle of bramble fronds and Frecklewish appeared with a vole in her jaws. She set it down beside the nest. “I took first pick of the fresh-kill pile for you,” she told Mapleshade with pride.
“Thank you,” Mapleshade meowed hoarsely. She wondered if it would be rude to ask Oakstar to leave. His scrutiny was making her more and more nervous.
Frecklewish turned to Oakstar. “Aren’t the kits perfect?” she purred. “I can see Birchface so clearly in each of them!”
Mapleshade glanced at the tiny bodies in the curve of her belly. Apart from the tom who was patch-furred like her, they were the exact soft brown shade of Appledusk’s fur. Birchface had been a dark brown tabby, almost black. Her heart pounding, she waited for Oakstar to comment but instead he asked if she had chosen names for them.
Mapleshade used her tail to indicate each kit without disturbing them. “I thought Larchkit for the brown tom, Patchkit for his brother, and Petalkit for their sister.” She paused as her tail-tip rested on the tiny she-kit. She was the fluffiest of all and her ears were so small they barely peeked out of the fur on her head. Mapleshade felt as if her heart would burst with love. If only you could see them like this, Appledusk!
“Excellent names,” Oakstar meowed.
“Didn’t you want to name one of them after Birchface?” Frecklewish asked. She sounded disappointed.
Mapleshade didn’t lift her gaze from her kits. “I want them each to be their own warrior,” she explained quietly. “Not an echo of a cat that has gone before.”
To her relief Oakstar purred. “ThunderClan is blessed to have you as a queen, Mapleshade. I look forward to watching these kits grow up.”
“I can’t wait to see RiverClan’s faces when they hear about them at the next Gathering,” Frecklewish hissed.
Mapleshade’s heart began to beat faster. “I wish I could be there to see that, too. Make sure you tell them that I’ve had three perfect, strong kits who are going to be great warriors!” she told Frecklewish. “Especially Appledusk. Tell him first.”
The pale ginger she-cat blinked. “Why would I speak to that mange-fur?” she growled. “He killed Birchface!”
“Exactly!” mewed Mapleshade hurriedly. “He needs to know that ThunderClan is stronger than ever, thanks to these kits.”
Frecklewish nodded. “Of course.” She unsheathed her front claws and sank them into the mossy litter on the floor of the nursery. “Our enemies have even more reason to fear us now!”
Oakstar curled his lip, showing a glint of yellow teeth. “It will do no harm for RiverClan to know that they may have robbed us of two fine cats, but thanks to Birchface, there will be three more warriors ready to defend what is rightfully ours.”
Mapleshade felt a stir of alarm. “The warrior code says we must show mercy to the warriors we have defeated,” she pointed out.
“Appledusk didn’t show any mercy to Birchface and Flowerpaw!” Frecklewish hissed, lashing her tail.
It was an accident! Mapleshade wanted to shriek. Birchface fell! Flowerpaw should never have followed him into the river! But she controlled herself. She couldn’t let Frecklewish suspect she had any sympathy for Appledusk. Not yet.
Oakstar was starting to back out of the nursery. “Right now, the most important thing is that Mapleshade’s kits are safe and well,” he meowed. There was a grim note to his voice that made Mapleshade’s fur stand up. “We will raise them to be great warriors like their father,” Oakstar vowed, “and let them avenge his death when they are ready.” He turned and vanished into the clearing, leaving the bramble wall trembling.
Frecklewish bent over the furry little bodies and touched her muzzle lightly to each squirming rump. “They are my brother’s gift to the Clan,” she murmured. “And the most precious creatures in the whole forest!”
Mapleshade fought down the urge to bat Frecklewish away. These are my kits, not yours! She knew that the ginger she-cat’s friendship would go a long way toward her kits being loved by all of ThunderClan. By the time the kits were ready to be apprenticed, the truth about who their father really was would be unable to shake the loyalty of their woodland Clanmates. Even Oakstar would understand, once he valued the kits for themselves rather than any legacy they might carry. And once RiverClan gets to know them, those cats will feel the same!
CHAPTER 3
“Watch this, Larchkit!” Wrinkling her muzzle in concentration, Petalkit gripped the bundle of dry moss in her jaws and shook it violently.
Her brother grabbed the moss from her and tossed it across the clearing. Both kits scrambled after it, Petalkit winning by a nose. She flopped down on top of the moss. “Mine!” she declared.
“Don’t you want to join in?” Mapleshade asked Patchkit, who was lying in the curve of her belly. His fur matched hers so perfectly that it was impossible to tell where one stopped and the other began. “It looks like they’re having fun.”
Her son shook his head. “I’m fine here,” he mewed. He snuggled in a little closer. “You need me to keep you warm, don’t you?” His green eyes blinked anxiously at her.
Mapleshade stifled a purr of laughter. She could barely feel his tiny body against hers. It was a rare cloud-free day in the rainwashed leaf-fall, and the sunbeams were just strong enough to bring cats out of their dens to bask, though there was a chill in the ground that warned of leaf-bare just around the corner.
“You’re doing a great job,” she told Patchkit. “I might have to share you with the elders to stop them getting cold.”
Patchkit’s green eyes opened wide in alarm. “No! I want to stay with you forever and ever! Even when I’m an apprentice!”
Mapleshade nuzzled the top of his head. “That won’t be for another four moons, little one. By then you’ll be so big and strong, you’ll be glad to leave the nursery and start your warrior training!”
“No I won’t,” muttered Patchkit, burying his face in her c
hest fur. “I never want to leave you.”
Petalkit and Larchkit were standing side by side, looking at the moss.
“You’ve ripped it to pieces!” Larchkit protested. “It doesn’t roll away now, look.” He prodded the pile of dusty brown shreds with his paw.
Petalkit shrugged. “It was trying to escape and I caught it!”
One of the elders, a gray tabby named Rabbitfur, padded stiffly over to the kits. “Looks like she’s killed it,” he observed. “Want to play a different game?”
“Yes please!” mewed Larchkit.
Rabbitfur used his front paw to roll a small stone into the middle of the clearing. Then he nudged a twig with his nose until it lay a bit less than a fox-length from the stone. Mapleshade propped herself up to watch.
“I want you to stand by this stick,” Rabbitfur meowed, pointing with his tail, “and pounce on that stone without touching the ground in between.”
Petalkit blinked. “But that’s almost at the other side of the clearing!”
“I’d have to grow wings to jump that far!” mewed Larchkit.
“Don’t be mouse-brained,” snorted Rabbitfur. “Your father could leap twice that distance, and land on the smallest leaf without disturbing a fly.”
Mapleshade felt a stir of alarm in her belly. Beside her, Patchkit sat up and tipped his head to one side. “Rabbitfur’s really bossy!” he squeaked.
Petalkit was crouching down beside the twig, wiggling her rump as she braced herself for the jump. With a grunt, she heaved herself forward, but her hind paw caught on the stick. She lurched sideways, snapping the twig, and sprawled on the ground at Rabbitfur’s paws.
“Humph!” he muttered. “Try again.”
This time Petalkit managed to clear the stick but she barely made half of the distance to the stone. Rabbitfur shook his head. “Your turn, Larchkit,” he rumbled.
The little brown tom looked very determined as he hunkered down. He sprang into the air, almost as high as Rabbitfur’s ears, but came down almost vertically, like an acorn falling from a tree.
Rabbitfur had to dodge out of the way to avoid being squashed. “Watch out!” He gave his chest fur a couple of licks. “Birchface managed to pounce without flattening any cats,” he grunted.
Mapleshade couldn’t listen to any more. She jumped out, dislodging Patchkit, who rolled over with a squawk, and trotted into the clearing. “Perhaps they take after me, Rabbitfur,” she meowed. “I can’t pounce, either.”
The old tom narrowed his eyes. “You’re not that bad,” he rasped. “I can’t believe any kit of Birchface would be heavy-footed as a badger.” He glanced at Petalkit, who was licking the paw that had caught on the stick.
The blood was roaring in Mapleshade’s ears now. “I will not have my kits judged before they have even begun their warrior training!” she hissed. “Patchkit, come here! We’re going for a walk in the forest!”
Patchkit scampered over, but Petalkit was pouting. “I want to stay here and practice jumping,” she mewed. “I want to be as good as Birchface.”
Rabbitfur looked pleased. “You should be very proud of who your father was,” he purred. “I remember the time we were stalking a pheasant over by Twolegplace. I’d never seen a bird that big, but Birchface was fearless—and so quiet, I couldn’t hear him over the breeze in the leaves!”
“I think the kits need to stretch their legs outside the camp,” Mapleshade meowed, interrupting Rabbitfur’s memories. “Come on, you three! No arguments, Petalkit.”
Patchkit’s green eyes—so like Appledusk’s, they made Mapleshade’s heart flip over—were huge. “Are we allowed outside? I thought we had to stay in the camp until we are old enough to be apprentices.”
“I’ll be with you so you’ll be perfectly safe,” Mapleshade told him. Oakstar and Beetail were out on patrol and Frecklewish had gone to check the barrier of stones at Snakerocks. Rabbitfur had wandered back to his sunny spot outside the elders’ den. Apart from some dozing cats, the clearing was empty. No one would take much notice if she took the kits out.
Suddenly Mapleshade couldn’t bear to be in the ravine another moment. With a whisk of her tail, she trotted toward the tunnel through the gorse. The kits bundled after her, chirping with excitement.
“I’m going to catch a badger!” Larchkit boasted.
“I’m going to watch that badger eat you first!” retorted Petalkit.
Patchkit was running at Mapleshade’s heels. “Don’t let a badger eat me!” he whimpered.
Mapleshade paused beside the tunnel entrance and turned to lick Patchkit’s ears. “I’ll never let anything bad happen to you,” she promised. With one more glance to check that they weren’t being scrutinized, she ushered her kits into the branches.
“Ow, it’s prickly!” squeaked Petalkit.
“Don’t stop,” Mapleshade urged. With a rapid beat of paws on hard earth, the kits burst out of the tunnel and stopped dead, staring around.
“Wow, outside of the camp is really big!” breathed Larchkit.
“It’s even bigger at the top of the ravine,” Mapleshade meowed. She nudged her kits toward the path that led up to the trees. Her fur prickled at the thought of being seen by a returning patrol.
The kits scrambled up the slope, Petalkit in the lead. They looked even tinier among the tree trunks, the towering oaks and beeches that overhung the ravine. Mapleshade hurried them along a little-used path beneath dense ferns; the kits wanted to stop and sniff every leaf, every mark on the ground, but Mapleshade kept them moving, ducking beneath the sweet-smelling fronds and hoping the fern scent would cover their tracks.
The undergrowth began to thin out, and the sound of splashing water drifted through the trees. Larchkit pricked his ears. “What’s that?” he mewed. As he tried to peer through the stalks, he stumbled over a fallen twig and landed on his nose. Mapleshade whisked him back to his paws before he could let out a wail. I’m glad Rabbitfur didn’t see that, she thought. She couldn’t deny that these kits were clumsier than their ThunderClan kin.
Patchkit had kept going while Mapleshade picked up his brother, and Mapleshade heard his sudden squeak of surprise. “Water! Water everywhere, look!”
His littermates bundled forward to stand beside him at the edge of the bracken. Mapleshade joined them, and looked out at the dazzling brightness of the river as it flowed past, swift and sparkling.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Petalkit whispered.
“Where did it come from?” mewed Larchkit.
Mapleshade thought for a moment. “I don’t really know,” she admitted. “Farther upstream is a deep gorge beside WindClan’s territory —”
“Can we go there?” Petalkit demanded.
Mapleshade shook her head. “No, little one. It’s too far for you to walk today. But one day you’ll see it, I promise.”
Patchkit, usually so timid and happy to let his littermates try everything first, tottered over the stones to the edge of the water.
“Be careful!” Mapleshade warned.
Her son turned to look at her, his eyes shining and droplets of water glinting on his whiskers. “It’s okay,” he mewed. “Watch!”
Before Mapleshade could stop him, he launched himself forward and slipped into the water. For one heartstopping moment, he vanished, then his ginger-and-white face bobbed up on the surface. “Look at me!” he squealed.
Larchkit and Petalkit raced down the shore and plunged in. For a few strides their little paws dug into the pebbles while the water lapped their fluffy bellies, then they were swimming through the rolling water.
Mapleshade felt a burst of love like the sun coming out. Oh Appledusk! Our kits are half RiverClan, for sure!
Patchkit reached a branch sticking out of the water and hauled himself onto it. Water streamed from his pelt, leaving it as glossy as a crow’s feathers. He looked no bigger than a mouse with his fur flattened to his sides, and his flanks heaved as he caught his breath. Mapleshade felt a jolt of
concern.
“Are you okay?” she called.
Patchkit nodded, still panting too hard to speak. Mapleshade paced up and down on the shore. She hated the idea of getting her paws wet, but she wasn’t sure if Patchkit had enough strength to swim back on his own. The other kits were playing hide-and-seek in a clump of reeds close by the shore. “Larchkit, Petalkit, go help your brother!” she meowed.
Suddenly the rushes on the far shore rustled and a dark gray head appeared. Mapleshade froze. It was Spiketail, the RiverClan deputy. In the middle of the river, Patchkit slumped on the branch, his cheek resting on the slick bark.
“What is that kit doing?” growled Spiketail. He stepped onto the shore, the fur along his spine bristling.
Mapleshade opened her mouth to speak but two more warriors were emerging from the rushes beside Spiketail.
“Is ThunderClan sending their youngest cats to invade us?” asked Milkfur, her white pelt glowing against the stones.
The third cat met Mapleshade’s gaze across the river. From this distance, his green eyes were unreadable. “I think one kit is hardly a threat to our territory,” he meowed. “I’ll return him to where he belongs.” He waded into the water, his pale brown fur turning black as he slid beneath the surface.
“Larchkit, Petalkit, come here!” Mapleshade hissed. The kits waded toward her, looking scared.
“Is that RiverClan warrior going to catch us?” Petalkit squeaked.
Mapleshade watched Appledusk’s head bob steadily closer to the branch. “No,” she mewed. “You’re safe, don’t worry.”
Appledusk mewed something to Patchkit, too quietly for Mapleshade to hear. Patchkit slithered down the branch and into the water. The RiverClan warrior steadied him with one paw, then began to propel him toward the ThunderClan shore. Mapleshade realized that the other kits were trembling from cold and she bent her head to lick their fur.
“Are we in trouble?” Larchkit mewed.
“Hush, everything’s fine,” Mapleshade murmured between licks.
Appledusk waded out of the river with Patchkit dangling from his jaws. He set the kit down on the stones and nudged him to his feet. “I think this one’s worn out from all that swimming,” he commented. His eyes burned into Mapleshade’s. “You took a risk, bringing them this close to our boundary.”
