✺✾ Falling Leaves, Falling Bodies ✾✺

Prologue

A yowl rose from the nursery, where a clump of cats crowded the entrance. Nettleclaw bit down on her pain-stick, splintering if between her teeth as the kit slithered onto the moss. Swiftcreek, ShadowClan's medicine cat, quickly bent his head to lick the kit's wet fur the wrong way to get him breathing. Yellowpaw, the medicine apprentice, gently massaged Nettleclaw's belly.

"You're doing great, Nettleclaw! Just one left."

The second and last kit plopped out, and Yellowpaw licked her clean. With her paw, she gently guided the kits to their mother's stomach to nurse. Swiftcreek purred, bumping his head against Nettleclaw's in congratulations. "Two beautiful she-kits."

A large dark dark brown tom shouldered his way past the crowd and medicine cats, his amber eyes huge as they fell on his kits. Darkfoot lowered his head to his mate's, purring loudly. "They're gorgeous."

Nettleclaw nodded exhaustedly. "They are." She looked up at him. "What should we name them?"

Darkfoot settled on his haunches, leaning down to look closer at the kits. The first was a brown and cream tabby with a large black spot just above his eye and another black splotch on his chest. His tail was black as well. The second was light like her mother, with darker paws and chest fur. One of her ears was tipped brown.

Darkfoot nudged the first kit, the cream and brown one. "How about Mudkit?" Nettleclaw smiled, licking the second one over the ears. The little kit mewed angrily in response, kicking her tiny back legs. "And this one can be Sweetkit."

Darkfoot nodded, purring as he touched his nose to Nettleclaw's. "They'll make amazing warriors."
"Darkfoot? Darkfoot! Patrol!" An apprentice's voice rang across the clearing. Darkfoot sighed and dipped his head to his mate. "Duty calls." He licked the top of her head, gazed for one more moment at his kits, then turned and slipped out of the nursery to join his yowling apprentice.
A very ailing queen watched from the corner. Her belly bulged. She would kit any day now. Crowmask shakily pulled herself to her paws and padded to Nettleclaw. She bent to touch noses with her friend, purring loudly. "Congratulations, Nettleclaw."

The gray she-cat purred happily in response. "Thank you, Crowmask." Worry flooded her eyes as Crowmask swooned to one side. "Oh dear. You're looking even sicker. Are you sure you don't want to talk to Swiftcreek about it?" Nettleclaw shot a glance at Yellowpaw and Swiftcreek's vanishing tails through the nursery entrance.

Crowmask smiled weakly. "I have talked to him. Many times." Slowly, the black and gray queen lowered herself to the ground, settling beside Nettleclaw and her new kits. "He says it will pass after the kitting."

Nettleclaw nodded slowly. "Well, Swiftcreek has never been wrong before, has he?" Crowmask laughed tiredly in agreement. But, her eyes quickly became somber as she looked from the kits suckling at Nettleclaw's belly to their mother's steady gaze. "Nettleclaw?"

"Yes?"

"I don't know if I'll survive it. Like Swiftcreek says I will." Crowmask's voice was soft as she watched the kits.

Nettleclaw reeled in shock. "What? Of course you'll survive!" When Crowmask didn't look at her, Nettleclaw nudged her with a paw. "Crowmask, you're my sister. I can't lose you. With Yewbranch and Poppyheart gone, we only have each other now. You can't go dying on me because of a few kits." Nettleclaw purred softly. Crowmask gave a half-hearted sound.

Nettleclaw sighed, laying her chin on her paws. She was exhausted. She needed to sleep. But she couldn't just leave Crowmask awake contemplating her own death. Crowmask wouldn't die. She couldn't die. The gray queen closed her eyes, reaching out her tail to stroke Crowmask's back. After a while, she trailed off to sleep, her dreams filled with kits and sisters and flowers and death.