Darkest Night

Stones clattered behind them as Bramblestar scrambled down the rock tumble. He stopped at the bottom and shook his head before crossing the clearing to where Brackenfur and Lionblaze were sitting with Cherryfall and Molewhisker. As the ThunderClan leader greeted the warriors, Alderheart nodded to Lilyheart and picked up his mouse. He headed toward a clump of ferns where sunshine was pooling. It looked like a warm spot to eat.

He passed Millie and Graystripe, who were playing with Blossomfall’s kits outside the elders’ den while Blossomfall dozed beside Daisy in the sunshine near the nursery.

Plumkit hauled her way up Graystripe’s side and clung to his shoulders. “Give me a badger ride,” she demanded. Her black-and-ginger pelt twitched with excitement.

“Me too!” Stemkit scrambled up beside his sister.

“I want a badger ride!”

“So do I!”

Eaglekit and Shellkit began wailing.

Millie purred at them affectionately. “I think there’s room for you all.” She nipped Eaglekit by her ginger scruff and plopped her down behind Plumkit, then placed Stemkit beside her.

Graystripe pretended to stagger. “You weigh more than owls!”

The kits squealed with delight and clung on desperately as Graystripe swayed one way, then the other.

“I can’t carry this much weight,” he puffed.

Millie nudged his shoulder with her muzzle. “Of course you can,” she told him. “You’re still the strongest cat in ThunderClan.”

“Okay.” Graystripe sighed dramatically and began to lumber around the clearing, lurching with each step so that the kits squealed with fear as he swung them this way, then that.

Millie caught Alderheart’s eyes as he passed. “Silly old fool,” she mewed fondly, nodding toward Graystripe.

Alderheart’s chest swelled with affection, and he dipped his head to Millie, unable to speak because of the mouse between his jaws. What a shame Twigpaw was missing this. But she’ll have Tinycloud’s kits to watch soon, he reminded himself.

He padded around Dewnose and Ambermoon, who were sweeping leaves into the sunniest part of the clearing with their paws. Once dried, the leaves would make a perfect lining for nests, to help keep out the leaf-bare chill.

Sparkpelt and Larksong lingered nearby, and Dewnose glared at them sternly as he swept. “I thought you two were meant to be helping us.”

Sparkpelt eyed him with amusement. “I would help if Larksong didn’t keep distracting me.” She glanced teasingly at Larksong.

The gray-and-white tom looked at his paws, self-conscious.

Alderheart’s pelt prickled with annoyance. Sparkpelt was flirting. How could she be such a featherbrain? She’d always been so ambitious about being the best warrior in ThunderClan. Why was she wasting her time acting like a dandelion-headed apprentice? Alderheart stalked past her. He still hadn’t forgiven her for speaking out against SkyClan at the last Gathering.

He settled a few tail-lengths from them, where the sun was chasing away the shadow of Highledge. Ivypool and Fernsong lay close by, stretching in the warmth.

As Alderheart bit into his mouse and started chewing, he heard Ivypool sigh.

“I’m not ready to have kits yet,” she told Fernsong.

From the corner of his eye, Alderheart noticed disappointment flash in the yellow tom’s eyes.

“Kits mean endless moons in the nursery.” Ivypool went on. “Daisy’s getting too old to look after another litter, and I want to be out in the forest hunting and patrolling, not stuck in camp all the time.”

“Why do you have to be in the nursery with them?” Fernsong asked.

Ivypool sat up. “What do you mean? I have to nurse them, don’t I? Who else can do that?”

“But the nursing is over soon enough,” Fernsong went on. “Then you’d be able to go back to your warrior duties.”

“And leave our kits to raise themselves until they’re six moons old?” Ivypool sounded shocked.

“Of course not,” Fernsong explained. “Once the kits are eating prey, I can move into the nursery. I can move in before that, if you like, so that you can go on patrols between feedings.”

“You?” Ivypool stared at him. “But you’re a tom! Toms don’t live in the nursery.”

“Why not?” Fernsong blinked at her affectionately. “Apart from food, all kits need is love and some cat to play with. I can’t think of a better way to spend my days.” As he spoke, Graystripe thumped past, the kits clinging to his back with excited squeaks and purring so loudly that Alderheart could hardly hear himself chew.

Ivypool watched them pass, and then leaned down and nuzzled Fernsong’s ear. “I’ll think about it,” she murmured. “Maybe after leaf-bare is over.”

As Alderheart took another bite of mouse, the thorn barrier rustled. He looked up to see Bumblestripe escorting Violetpaw and Hawkwing into the camp. His heart leaped. Was Twigpaw with them? He got to his paws and headed toward them. “What are you doing here?” He glanced behind them as he neared, hoping to see Twigpaw follow them through the entrance tunnel. But there was no sign of her. “Have you come alone?”

“Yes,” Hawkwing told him.