Brokenstar stared around dismissively at the ShadowClan apprentices. They were so soft-hearted and clumsy; how could they ever learn to fight? He growled softly. He made them train early to preserve their youthful strength, and he got this.
He padded towards the entrance of his den. These apprentices were a disgrace to ShadowClan. Most of them had weak mentors. Two of them had decent mentors. His deputy, Blackfoot and one of his best warriors, Clawface, mentored two of them, but the strong warriors' efforts were wasted on such mouse-hearts.
The Clan needed kits that were born strong, with the right kind of blood. Neither Brokenstar or his six strong warriors had mates. They saw it as a sign of weakness.
But they were the only ones with the right kind of blood. They would just have to find the best she-cat. Brokenstar contemplated this. Blackfoot and Clawface were too busy to father kits. Jaggedtooth was too lazy. The other three would eventually become weak and give in to fatherly softness. He snorted in disgust. It was him or no one.
Brokenstar padded near the middle of the camp. His eyes scanned the she-cats. Many looked pathetic, chatting to each other. A blur of dark gray, black, and white caught his attention.
The pretty she-cat with her glowing green eyes was chasing a leaf, as if she was once again a kit, but the timing and precision she lashed out at it showed fair strength and quick thinking. A kit who had been watching in awe suddenly leaped on her, in an attempt to catch her off guard in a play fight. Instead, she dodged it with incredible speed and rounded on it playfully.
Yes, Darkmist showed the best traits. The large tom padded towards the young she-cat.
"Darkmist, a word." he mewed coldly, his tone of voice leaving no room for argument. He strode to the entrance of the camp. Darkmist shot an apologetic look to the kit before bounding after her leader's retreating form, bewildered.
Brokenstar stopped in a sheltered and private area place in the forest, surrounded by large, dense pines.
"There is something we need to discuss," he demanded, rather than inform. Darkmist didn't flinch at his emotionless eyes and cold voice, like most would. She simply nodded casually. The lack of fear pleased the dark brown tom.
"You may not be the only one to notice, but the apprentices are weak. If ShadowClan is to survive, they must be strong."
"What does this have to do with me?" Darkmist interrupted.
"I was getting to that!" Brokenstar spat in cold fury, but still, Darkmist did not flinch. He quickly regained his composure and spoke dangerously calmly. "It has come to my attention that either I or my warriors should father a litter."
Darkmist's eyes held a slight smug look but remained silent.
"My warriors are occupied with their own duties, so I believe I shall father a litter."
"And...?" Darkmist mewed, not catching on.
"Out of all the young she-cats in the Clan, you have the most talent and skill needed in our apprentices. You will mother our kits."
Darkmist froze, unable to comprehend what he had just said. Brokenstar continued.
"It will be a service to ShadowClan. All we require is one strong kit, and only us together will let that happen. This kit will make our Clan thrive." Brokenstar meowed.
The tri-colored she-cat stared down at her dainty paws, feeling very awkward. She trembled slightly, unsure of the idea. She looked at her leader. "One litter?" she whispered.
Brokenstar meowed his confirmation.
Darkmist's pelt heated and she nodded.
The leader purred in satisfaction. "Good."
Darkmist gasped in pain as her first kit fought its way into the world. Her belly rippled and the little kit slithered out and plopped onto the large raspberry leaf. She gazed in horror at it. It was her first time kitting.
"Is it dead?" she meowed frantically. Even though these kits weren't exactly what she wanted, she would still love and care for them.
"It's fine," Runningpaw assured the worried queen.
"As long as you stop worrying!" Yellowfang huffed.
Darkmist hissed in pain as the second kit announced its arrival. She stared in fright as Runningpaw began to lick it gently, encouraging the young kit to take its first breath and to get its blood flowing. Jaggedtooth was licking the first one, annoyance sparkling in his eyes.
After a lot more pain, the third kit left her, leaving her panting hard for breath. Yellowfang nudged the three kits to suckle in the warm crook of her stomach.
Darkmist stared affectionately down at them, only glancing up when Brokenstar entered the nursery. He stared down at his kits with a satisfied look in his bright amber eyes, content that ShadowClan finally had strong kits.
"What shall you name them?" he asked.
She bent her nose to touch the first kit, a dark brown tom with a white ear and paw. "His name is Lionkit," She turned to her second born, a pale gray, black, and white mottled she-kit. "Her name is Icekit," She finally turned to the last, a gingery brown tom. "And this will be Redkit."
"Perfect," Brokenstar mewed simply, before exiting the den with barely any emotion.
Standing off to the side, Yellowfang stepped forward a bit, her eyes looking from Darkmist's three kits to Brokenstar's disappearing figure and back again, interesy sparking in her eyes. Darkmist prayed to StarClan that she wouldn't notice the similarities.
"Darkmist, who exactly is the father?" she asked.
The queen chose to stare at her kits, not meeting the medicine cat's eye. Yellowfang fixed her with a hard stare, but said nothing. When Darkmist chanced a peek at her, she thought she saw a strange emotion in her eyes, looking suspiciously like...regret? She shook it off, noticing it was gone as fast as it was there.
Yellowfang left the nursery without complaint, suspicion crackling from her matted gray pelt, giving her one last look, before beckoning Runningpaw to follow. The medicine cat apprentice dipped his head at the queen and left.
Darkmist sighed in relief and exhaustion and stared down at her precious kits, huddled beside her. She purred softly. She knew despite how much she had grown close to their father, she'd never be with him. But she'd cherish her kits for moons to come.
Or at least, that's what she thought...