The sun was barely suppressed below the horizon when the black-and-white she cat silently padded back into the nursery, a small ball of fur clenched in her jaws. Quiet as she was, the other inhabitant of the den, a grey she cat, looked up as she entered.
"When you left, you were carrying a dead kit," the grey cat murmered softly, as not to wake the two pale grey kits at her belly. "That kit is very much alive."
The black queen set down the bundle of fur, next to another dark coloured kit "Yes," she agreed simply.
"Your kits were born but a few hours ago. That one is clearly several days old," the grey cat continued.
"Yes" her companion replied once again, settling down to curl around her kits.
"So that one is not yours?"
"No."
"Won't the rest of the clan notice?"
The black she cat laughed, "As you said, it was only a few hours ago. No one would have been to see me but my mate," a hint of bitterness crept into her tone as she continued "If i still had a mate."
"So you will look after it." It was not really a question; more a statement.
The black cat nodded. "The kit is small. Besides, it is certaintly not the first time kits have changed paws in this forest." A soft purr of amusement as she saw her friend's eyes widen slightly "you know too, Brookpelt? About the second son?"
Brookpelt twitched her tail slightly, looking away from the other cat uncomfortably. "Of course I know. The other is presumably dead."
Once again the black cat nodded, not offering her own opinion as she settled down to sleep again. "Will you tell the clan? About my kit?"
Brookpelt hesitated, but only for a second. "Of course not. All kit's deserve a chance. May Shadekit rest with Starclan."
The dark queen dipped her head, accepting the comfort for her recent loss. "May he rest with Starclan." She agreed.