Author's Note: Here's the second chapter. Thanks for the nice reviews you guys left; I really appreciate it and I'm glad you like this story! :) Read, review and enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own warriors or the idea for this challenge.

Only several days after Nightpaw's death, far more joyful news reached the Clan's ears; Softwillow's kits were to be born. The queen had been expecting for two months already and it was about time for her to have her kittens. There couldn't be a better time than now. Blossomfur took the opportunity to try to distract her apprentice from his grief with a lesson. She chased the kits' father out of the nursery so they could do their work in peace, then began to teach Thrushpaw how to help the young kittens be born.

"See, every she-cat's muscles react instinctively when it is time for the kits to be born," the medicine cat explained, stroking Softwillow's flank gently with her tail. "These movements will help push the kits out without harming them."

"It won't hurt them, but it'll be painful for me," hissed Softwillow, made somewhat cross by the pain. The silver tabby was usually as gentle tempered as a butterfly, but today she all but spat out the words.

"Yes, but that's normal for the she-cat to feel a bit of pain while giving birth," explained Blossomfur, not unkindly. "You're doing very well, Softwillow."

Softwillow made a pleased sound, obviously appeased.

"It shouldn't be long before the first one is born," Blossomfur assured her.

"What do we do when that happens?" asked Thrushpaw, feeling a bit anxious. This was the first time he was helping deliver kits; the last birth in the Clan had occurred soon after Thrushpaw's apprenticeship, before he had acquired the skills necessary for the process. He wanted to help but was afraid of messing up.

"Give the kit a good lick," meowed his mentor, seeming unconcerned by the note of nervousness in his voice. "That will get it breathing. Don't worry Thrushpaw, I'll help the first one so you can see how it's done. Which should be right about now."

The tortoiseshell she-cat's instincts seemed to be accurate; a moment later, Softwillow gave a yowl of pain and the first kit was born. Blossomfur gave the kit a few brisk strokes with her tongue and it let out a little gasp as it took its first breath. Thrushpaw watched in fascination. The kit was a tiny tom with a pelt nearly identical to his mother's.

"The first one's a tom," Blossomfur told Softwillow, sounding satisfied at the successful birth. "And he's perfectly healthy."

"Oh, good!" exclaimed the she-cat in reply, clearly relieved.

A moment later, she yowled again and the second kit arrived; a smoky gray-black tom that resembled his father. This time it was Thrushpaw's turn to help. He licked the kit and it let out a yowl. Anxious, he turned to Blossomfur.

"This one has strong lungs," she reassured him. "He's healthy."

The two medicine cats waited to see if that was all, but it seemed there was still one more kit to be born. Softwillow's muscles rippled as they prepared to push out the final kit. The queen yowled and the last kit emerged. Blossomfur nodded to Thrushpaw, who licked the kit until it gasped in a breath. He looked at it more closely to tell its mother if it was a tom or a she-cat—and froze.

It was a black tabby she-cat, identical to Nightpaw. Her eyes were closed, so he couldn't see their color, but in his heart he knew when they opened they would be a beautiful blue. The little kitten looked so much like his friend that it took his breath away.

"What's the matter?" asked Blossomfur.

"It's—she—," he stammered. "She looks just like Nightpaw," he finished softly.

Blossomfur looked at the tiny black kitten. "You're right," she agreed. "She does look just like Nightpaw." Her voice was gentle.

"Then that will be her name," meowed Softwillow kindly. "Nightkit. Nightpaw saved my mate when she took on that dog. It's only fitting that we honor her memory."

Thrushpaw gazed at the newly named Nightkit. He felt as if hope had returned to his world; there was something left to live for after all.

Blossomfur felt Softwillow's flank gently with her paw. "That's the last one," she meowed. "Three healthy kittens; you couldn't ask for more than that." She spoke with motherly warmth, despite the fact that she would never have kits of her own.

She turned away, towards the entrance of the nursery. "Alright, Duskfeather, you can come in now!" she yowled. "You have two sons and a daughter."

The gray-black tom entered the nursery and gazed lovingly at his mate and kits. "They're beautiful," he whispered, crouching beside Softwillow to get a closer look. His breath gently brushed the kits' fur as they nursed. "What will we name them?"

"This is Nightkit," she meowed, gently touching the she-cat with her tail.

Duskfeather nodded, recognizing the identical pelt.

"We can call the silver tabby Stripekit," he suggested. "For those bold black stripes."

"And the gray-black tom can be Ashkit," agreed Softwillow warmly. "They're all beautiful names for beautiful kits."

"This will help your milk come," meowed Blossomfur, nudging a few leaves towards the queen. "I'll be back pretty frequently to check on them, and make sure they stay healthy. If you need anything else, Thrushpaw and I will be in the medicine den."

Softwillow nodded, closing her eyes. Giving birth must have been exhausting, even though there had been no difficulties.

Thrushpaw and Blossomfur exited the nursery and walked side by side across the sunlit clearing towards their den. The tortoiseshell she-cat rested her tail gently on her apprentice's shoulders in a wordless expression of understanding. She could tell that seeing Nightkit had been both a joyful and sorrowful experience so soon after he lost his friend. There were no words, nor herbs that could heal a broken heart.

Whitepaw was surprised to find Thrushpaw waiting for him when the warrior apprentice returned from a hunting patrol. Usually his friend was busy with medicine cat duties or calmly waiting for him in the medicine den if he wanted to talk.

"What is—?" he began, but the brown-furred apprentice merely said, "Come with me, I want to show you something," and turned towards the dens. Bewildered, Whitepaw followed him into the nursery, wondering why his friend was acting so strange.

"Look," Thrushpaw breathed, nudging Whitepaw towards Softwillow, who was sleeping with her kits curled beside her belly. Whitepaw was about to congratulate Thrushpaw on helping deliver the kits when he realized what the medicine cat apprentice was actually pointing out to him; the small black tabby.

Whitepaw sucked in a breath sharply. The kitten bore an uncanny resemblance to Nightpaw, from little black nose to striped tail-tip. Had he not known better and remembered Nightpaw being much bigger than the little cat before him, he would have thought it was his friend sleeping with the other kits.

"Her name is Nightkit," meowed Thrushpaw. Whitepaw turned to look at his friend and saw the happiness in his amber eyes.

Wordlessly, he touched his tail-tip to the medicine cat apprentice's shoulder.

The two friends remained there for a moment, gazing together at the slumbering kit. For a moment they could imagine that all three friends were together again in the apprentice den, as close as littermates.

"Do you think she'll be like Nightpaw?" Whitepaw asked, breaking the silence.

"I don't know," replied Thrushpaw, his tail flicking slightly in unease. "But we have to remember, no matter how much she looks like our friend, no matter how much she reminds us of our friend, this kit is not Nightpaw. She is her own cat and we must treat her as such." He paused, and then added, "But we can still watch over her."

Whitepaw nodded in agreement, recognizing the truth of his friend's words. "Then we will watch over her," he meowed. "We will make sure she does not meet the same fate as Nightpaw. She will live to be a warrior."

As they left the nursery, they were replaced by the invisible spirit of a she-cat. Had anyone seen her, they would have made out the patterns of beautiful tortoiseshell fur and a fluffy ginger tail. The spirit padded soundlessly to the queen's side. As if she had heard the paw-steps of the approaching spirit, Nightkit blinked open her eyes for the first time. They shone a beautiful blue in the dim light of the nursery.

She looked directly at Gingertail, silently studying the newcomer.

Sleep, little one, Gingertail meowed gently. I am here to guard you.

The black tabby yawned, revealing a bright pink tongue and closed her eyes, putting her faith in her guardian spirit.

From the shadows, two other spirits watched. These cats were not Calmheart and Icehallow, but more sinister ghosts whose eyes glinted in the darkness. One was a thickly muscled tom with a black tabby pelt; the other was a silver and white tabby with a slit in her right ear. They both observed the scene through narrowed eyes.

"How sweet," purred the tom. "The little one has been reborn and this noble StarClan warrior has volunteered to be her guardian."

"Bah," hissed the she-cat, lashing her tail. "If you like that sort of thing. I have no doubt my sister was behind this. She's always been soft hearted when it comes to kits."

"If it truly was Calmheart's idea, then she was foolish to appoint this she-cat as the kit's guardian," responded the black tabby.

"Well, she is the little one's kin," meowed the she-cat.

"So am I," replied the tom. "Have they forgotten the name of Darkwhisper so easily? Surely those StarClan fools realize that Gingertail is not a cat that could stop me from getting my claws on the little runt."

"Especially if you had my help," hissed the silver and white tabby.

"I agree," meowed Darkwhisper smoothly.

"Shall we give them a little reminder?" She flexed her claws.

Darkwhisper swept his tail out to block her from moving towards the sleeping kitten. "Patience, Silvermask," he meowed. "There are worse forms of revenge than killing the little one. I personally like few things more than bringing fallen heroes to the dark side."

Silvermask's eyes glinted like shards of ice. "Ah," she replied slyly. "You always did have the best of plans." She flicked his shoulder with her tail.

"Sleep peacefully while you can, Nightkit," meowed Darkwhisper from his place in the shadows. "Your life won't be peaceful for long…"