The new-leaf breeze drifted through the camp. Gentle birdsong sounded from the trees, and a gentle murmur was being exchanged among the cats in the hollow. There was a buzz of excitement in the air, and cats kept glancing at a bush. The mewls coming from it were getting louder and louder, though there was no huge concern for the she-cat they came from. She was a young cat, and strong. There was not a doubt in any cat's mind that she would make it through this kitting, however difficult it may be.
This did not stop a gray tom from pacing around outside nervously. He kept peering in, then quickly looking away and striding away to talk absently to the cats sharing tongues.
The red tabby sat over his Clan proudly, and felt slightly amused at the young tom's worry. He himself had no kits of his own, but he did think of these cats around him as kin. He had seen many births in his time, and, though he was no medicine cat, he felt quite certain that these circumstances were the safest to be in.
The red tom stood and leapt from his seating place on the ledge, approaching the nervous tom. "Smokepad!" he meowed. "A word?"
The tom whipped around. "Yes, Redstar?" he asked, following his leader cautiously.
Redstar purred, leading him away from the group he had been with earlier. "I suppose that you're excited to have some young ones, then?"
Smokepad nodded, though he looked terrified when Redstar reminded him of it. "Of course! I'm just so worried for Cloudflower-"
"Cloudflower will be fine, Smokepad," Redstar insisted, cutting him off. "I've seen cats much weaker than her kit with such ease."
The gray tom looked unconvinced. "It's been going on for so long, though…"
"I'm not medicine cat, but I believe that the pains can start a long time before the kits actually come," Redstar responded, determined to calm the younger tom. "She only started this morning."
Suddenly, a loud yowl came from the bush. All the cats in the camp looked up abruptly at the sound. Smokepad glanced at him, as though asking permission, and Redstar dipped his head. The tom darted over to the entrance and ducked into the den.
The yowls continued for the rest of the day until the sun hung low in the sky. The cats barley flinched now, as another screech sounded across the clearing. Finally, they seemed to stop, only to be replaced by an anguished wail, clearly distinct from the sounds of the she-cat kitting.
Redstar stood and crossed the camp to the nursery's entrance. A silver she-cat was emerging just as he reached it. Her eyes were dull and sad. She looked at Redstar for a moment and dipped her head.
"There was nothing that could have been done," she meowed, her tone mournful. "Go in. Smokepad and Cloudflower would want you to know first, anyway. I need to get some herbs." She moved past him to her own den.
Redstar's belly dropped. He pushed his way in only to see what should have been a happy new family with eyes full of grief. Two of the kits seemed to be fine, suckling contentedly at their mother's belly. But one sat at the paws of Cloudflower, unmoving and silent. The queen had her muzzle buried in her lost kit's fur, and Smokepad lay wrapped around her, his head pressed into her.
Redstar opened his mouth to speak, but said nothing. What could he say? What words could consol these cats, who had just suffered such great a loss?
He looked down at the two living kits. He didn't know what to expect to feel when he looked at them. Joy, for new life? Grief, for their lost sibling? Anger, at StarClan for taking someone so young to join their ranks?
He certainly didn't expect to feel the cold fear that spread from the pit of his belly to the tip of his tail. Something was wrong about one of these cats. Something dangerous, something deadly, something that would surely bring about the downfall of ThunderClan, maybe all of the Clans. He didn't know which of them it was, but he had never been more certain of anything- one of these kits couldn't be allowed to live.
And then, suddenly, the ice was gone, and he felt horrified at himself for thinking such things about kits, about kits whose littermate had just died. He looked back to their grieving parents.
"Oh Cloudflower, Smokepad… I'm so, so sorry."
Smokepad looked up at him, pain shining in his eyes. "We named him Breezekit," he told Redstar. "When the Clan mourns him, we want him to have a name."
"Of course," Redstar agreed, his voice choked. "Every cat deserves a name."
Cloudflower lifted her head and looked at her stillborn son. "I am so sorry, Breezekit," she whispered. It was as though she was unaware of anyone but herself and he lost kit. "I wish I could see you grow up, too." She turned her head to look at her belly, and a pained smile spread across her face. "But we have two daughters," she mewed hoarsely. "We have two daughters, Smokepad."
The tom nodded. "Yes, we do." His smile was forced. "That one looks just like me," he meowed. His eyes flicked down to Breezekit. Redstar could tell what he was thinking. And he looks just like you.
"And this one looks like Fernleaf," he added instead. "Guess you take after him a bit, after all."
Redstar left them to name their kits alone. He couldn't get rid of the cold feeling that he had felt as he rested his gaze upon the two kits. He briefly wondered if the terror had been sent by StarClan. He shook this though away. Why would StarClan send him a sign that would lead him to be so afraid of a small kit?