Her labor finally over, Nightcloud chewed through the cord that linked the tiny scrap of fur to his afterbirth. Exhausted, and suddenly extremely hungry, she gulped it down like the finest freshkill.
Like herself, and like Crowfeather, her son was black as the space between stars. Blind and deaf, he groped his way to her belly.
The medicine cat busily tried to lick him dry while he inched away. "A strong tom you have here. How shall I announce him to the Clan?"
"His father's love for me was as fleeting as the newleaf breeze. I will name him Breezekit."