The moon shone over the WindClan camp, brightly lighting every nook and cranny with its majestic silver glow. In the nursery, a crude abandoned badger's den, were three cats. A she-cat was busily licking a small kit, while a tom sat by her, watching his newborn daughter squirm. "She's so beautiful." He gasped. His own daughter! "I am going to be a better father to this kit," he thought, "than my father was to me." Breezepelt's father didn't love him. He didn't even like him. But I don't care, decided Breezepelt. As far as I care, I don't have a father. And as far as your father cares, said a little nagging voice inside him, he doesn't have a son. But that's not what this moment was about. This moment was about his beautiful new daughter being born. She didn't have a name yet, but Breezepelt knew it had to be as magnificent as she was. The kit had been born with fur, but that hadn't mattered to her parents. It just made her more unique. In the dark nursery, the kits pelt could have been mistaken for gray, but Breezepelt knew it was white. As white as snow. Maybe her name could be Snowkit? No, that didn't sound right. It wasn't good enough. Not good enough for her. "Heathertail," Breezepelt mewed, stopping the she-cat from licking long enough to say "Yes?"
"Heathertail, what should we name her?"
"Breezepelt, she hasn't even spoken yet. She hasn't even opened her eyes yet. How in StarClan could you name a kit that you know nothing abo-" She stopped talking and looked around. While they had been talking, the kit had disappeared! Swiveling her head frantically to find her daughter, Heathertail gave a sigh of relief when she finally found her. The kit had wriggled away from her and was slowly inching outside, giving out little mews of indignation as to how hard it was to move when you had just been born, and why hadn't her mother come and picked her up so that she didn't have to move herself? Breezepelt laughed and went over to pick the kit up.
"Dear, I think she wants to go outside. Why don't we take her out? It couldn't hurt…"
Breezepelt obeyed. It wasn't smart to pick a fight with Heathertail, especially when she had just given birth without a medicine cat. (Kestrelpaw and Barkface were at the Moonpool) Once outside, their daughter squealed, in excitement and attempted to hop around, only to fail miserably. Breezepelt laughed, but Heathertail said nothing, and was staring at the kit intently.
"Love what's wrong?" Heathertail looked up.
"Breezepelt, what do you think of the name Silverkit?" The question caught Breezepelt by surprise. He looked down at the kit, basking in the moonlight… The moonlight….. The moonlight turned her pelt silver! A beautiful, glowing shade of silver.
"But Heathertail, She's white! When she's not in the moonlight, she'll be a white cat named Silverkit. She-"
But he stopped. The more he thought about it, the more he liked it. Silverkit. Silverkit…. Silverkit. It fit her perfectly.
She was his kit.
His kit.
His Silverkit.