Lionstar narrowed his amber eyes against the brilliant starlight as he lay, settled on the top of the Skyrock, his thick golden fur gleaming. However, his eyes were clouded with thought and confusion as he stared up at the spirits of his warrior ancestors that shone above.
He didn't understand it.
By leaving the she-cats to nurse their kits, he was only continuing the traditions that had been in practice for generations, and all the former leaders he had ever heard of had done the same. So why did he feel so guilty, as if it was unfair? The she-cats, once or twice, had spoke out against former leaders, but most accepted this without question.
Why were she-cats weaker, anyway? Lionstar rolled his eyes as he recalled what one of the elders had told him when he was only an apprentice. Apparently, the first cat to ever die in battle was a she-cat named Silverpelt, the reason for the term for the starry night sky, which proved, according to many cats, that the she-cats were somehow weaker.
How did the elders know that, anyway. They weren't around at that time.
Lionstar sighed. If he was given a choice, he might have allowed the she-cats to hunt and fight as real warriors. But he would face so much rebellion if he did. And doing so would mean destroying generations of practiced traditions.
Sometimes, he sympathized with the she-cats. But not too many of them actually cared.
That was just the way it had always been.
SkyClan would never have a she-cat as a warrior, forget their deputy or leader. And the legend for why this was the case probably wasn't true, anyway.
Lionstar shook out his golden fur, then turned his head back to face the SkyClan camp. It was completely quiet, except for the whisper of the wind as it swirled around the camp. His deputy, Scorchclaw, padded out of the warriors' den to select a piece of prey for himself. Lionstar resisted the urge to flinch as he recalled the days when Scorchclaw had been his apprentice.
Because, she-cats could only train she-cats.
Not train, but teach them how to raise kits. How pathetic.
Lionstar sighed, the cold night breeze ruffling his fur. It just wasn't fair, and as a leader, he should have done something about it, long ago. But he didn't know if he should. Because that was the way it had always been.
Was it his imagination, or did the wind really whisper to him? It was a calm, soft whisper that spoke to him, and with a stab of pain and realization in his heart, he realized that the voice belonged to his dead mother, Honeytail.
"Lionstar..." Lionstar resisted the urge to yowl with emotion. "Do not worry, Lionstar... a cat is coming, closer than you think... and your problems will be solved, for once and for all."
Now, Lionstar could see the faintest outline of a light brown tabby she-cat standing beside him.
"But what am I supposed to do, Honeytail?" Lionstar murmured.
Honeytail stared at him, unblinking. "I told you... do not worry. Another cat will make your decision for you..." Lionstar narrowed his eyes to slits, thinking, until he abruptly realized that Honeytail was disappearing into the night air. He opened his jaws to call out to her, but shut them again, deciding that there was no use.
Lionstar let out a breath. Do not worry. His mother's words rang in his ears, and he forced a smile.
All right, Honeytail, he thought. I won't.
But who was that cat? Was it a she-cat or a tom? Would a she-cat finally prove her strength? Or would a tom strike down any she-cat who tried?
And then, a screech ripped through the night air.
Then another.
Then another.
Lionstar would have recognized that yowl anywhere. Startled, he leaped down from the Skyrock, and bounded over to the nursery, his tail curled with worry as he slowed a little before he could pad inside. However, the medicine cat apprentice, Redcloud, blocked his path. "You can't go in."
Lionstar let out a growl. "Why not?"
"Nightbreeze is kitting," Redcloud growled, confirming Lionstar's suspicions about his black-furred mate. "And as your medicine cat-"
"Medicine cat apprentice," Lionstar muttered.
"-I'm telling you not to enter." Redcloud's voice softened, and he flicked his tail. "Don't worry. Nightbreeze will be fine. Pebblefoot's with her," he added, naming the speckled gray SkyClan medicine cat.
"Okay." Lionstar found it hard to stand still, as his mate was kitting. He flinched as he heard another scream. His tail waving in anxiety, the golden brown tom paced back and forth, unable to keep his worry inside him as he heard Pebblefoot murmuring to Nightbreeze, inside the nursery.
Oh, yes, and she-cats couldn't be medicine cats either. Lionstar didn't understand. That didn't involve using claws at all! Well, it did, but not really.
Pebblefoot poked his head out of the den. "Lionstar? You can come in, now."
Without waiting for further encouragement, Lionstar bounded into the den, purring excitedly as Nightbreeze lifted her dark head, looking at him through her exhausted, yet content, green eyes.
"Lionstar." Even her voice betrayed her exhaustion. "Come and meet your kits."
She flicked her tail toward four sleeping bundles, all pressed together like small bundles of fur. Lionstar's eyes darkened a little as he spotted the fourth kit, sleeping peacefully. But she was a she-cat, and Lionstar sighed inwardly. Poor kit.
"I want to call this one Stormkit," he announced, sweeping his tail over the small blue-gray she-cat.
Nightbreeze quickly glanced up at him, then down again. "The reddish tom is Cedarkit, and the black tom is Darkkit."
Lionstar rested his tail on the other kit, a gray tom, who was pressed against Stormkit. "This one is Smokekit."
Lionstar was staring at Stormkit again, the only she-cat in the litter of four. Why were you a she-cat? he wailed inwardly. Life would be hard on her, and no doubt she would find it unfair. She was so young, so innocent... was it really fair to press the weight of a she-cat's life on a kit?