A blood-curdling scream echoed in ThunderClan camp. All the cats were crowded outside the nursery. They shuffled their paws nervously. Stormfeather was kitting. She is the clan's deputy, although she stepped down from that place temporarily when she found out she was expecting kits, she was still the one who organizes all the patrols and orders. The leader, Aspenstar, is terribly sick with green-cough. Nobody knows if she will survive, and if she dies, she loses her ninth life. Gorsetail, Shrewpaw and Lightfur died already. The clan will break into pieces if Stormfeather join StarClan.
Suddenly, the medicine cat apprentice, Flarepaw, burst out of the nursery and bolted for the medicine cat den. He didn't say anything, but the clan was shocked into silence. Nothing could be heard except of the soft mew of…kits? But they also smelled the scent of blood. Something must be terribly wrong. Sure enough, Stormfeather is losing lots of blood. This is the only explanation, isn't it? But Stormfeather herself struggled out of the nursery, placing a kit on the ground. This kit is something different. Her amber eyes are open, and there are a dangerous glint to them. She hissed at Stormfeather when she tried to pin her down. Obviously annoyed, she called, "Adderfang, help me pin her down, RIGHT NOW." Adderfang looked surprised at the order, but didn't object. "Robinpaw, go help Flarepaw. Duskpuddle, go in the nursery, and help Brightflower treat her and the kits' wounds."
Everyone looked at each other uneasily. Wounds? Where in StarClan can they get wounds in the nursery?
Stormfeather growled at them. "What are you doing, standing here? Prickleclaw, Ashstrike, Blacksong and Embernose, go back to the medicine cat den right away. StarClan, you don't want to spread green-cough all over the camp, do you?" They shook their heads with a guilty look, slipping back to the medicine cat den quickly.
"Stormfeather, you are NOT well enough to be giving orders now," mewed a tired voice behind her. Her expression was unreadable.
"Yes I am." She answered firmly.
"I am the medicine cat, I say if you are well enough or not." Rage flared through her eyes as she spat.
"Brightflower, I'm really sorry about that kit. But, I need to talk to you to see what shall I do to her."
"Yes, you do." She raised her voice and yowled, "Stormfeather and I will come up with a decision and we will announce it to the clan, along with what happened. Now, go on patrols, go hunting, I don't care. Just make yourself busy!"
Stormfeather gave her a sly smile. "Taking over my position, I see. Featherfall, can you lead a hunting patrol?" The sleek, white she-cat nodded in agreement. "You can take whoever you want. And Cedarheart, I want you to lead a border patrol. You can take Beepaw and Chirptail. And be careful when you are around the WindClan border, will you? I don't want another battle with WindClan in leaf-bare."
The cats who were called nodded respectively and went out, Featherfall taking Sorrelmist and Oakpaw. Then she turned to Adderfang and said, "Thank you. You can let go of her now." Adderfang did, and her kit jumped up immediately, glaring at Adderfang and herself. Ignoring her, she mewed, "Go get some prey and rest, I do not want you in the medicine cat den for you've been working twice as hard as anyone."
Adderfang looked disappointed, and with another weird look at her, he stalked to the prey pile. Stormfeather noticed that it was almost empty. She hoped the hunting patrol will bring back plenty of prey. Then she turned to Brightflower again and grabbed her kit by her scruff. "Now lets talk."
"What were you thinking, attacking your littermates?" the two she-cats demanded at the same time. The little kit looked lost. Stormfeather sighed. She was foolish to expect an answer from a kit, not even a day old.
Brightflower seemed to share the same thought, for she rolled her eyes and stood up. "This is useless," she spat, before stalking out.
Stormfeather looked at the kit, feeling sadness fill her as she stare back. This kit, however dangerous she is, was her kit. My kits. What happened to the other ones?
She whirled around and ran to the nursery, bursting inside and surprising Darkpelt, a brown-and-black queen. She curled into her nest and started licking her kits frantically. She heard soft whimpers, but they didn't wriggle out of her grasp. It was only half a day from her kitting, but it seemed much longer. No doubt her kits are starving. She felt sorry for her kits as she studied each one of them closely. The dead kit was still at a corner of her nest. Nobody had bothered to bury her. She had 5 kits, one a murder already, and one dead. Her emotions were swept into a swamp of sadness, loneliness, misery, and anger. Nobody had asked her how she felt. Nobody. Not even her mate, well, former mate, Swipeclaw. He had merely glanced at her, though she noticed he had looked at the kits with longing. Well, if he dare take a step close to them, I swear I'll claw his eyes out, she swore to herself. I won't trust him ever again.
She was jerked out of her thoughts from a little claw poking at her belly. She looked at them, warm love visible to anyone. She purred in affection as she looked at her kits. The silver-gray one, the biggest and the only tom in this litter, can be Rainkit, a she-cat with yellow spots can be Sweetkit, and the last one, the tiniest one, with a slightly darker pelt than hers, almost identical to his father, can be Cinderkit, she thought. They're wonderful. But her heart sank as she saw her other daughter, lying lifeless next to her, she thought, StarClan, take good care of her. Her name is going to be Spottedkit, for the beautiful spots on her back. She started cleaning the blood off while nursing the other kits. When she finished, the kit looked like she was only sleeping, the wind rustling her fur, making it look like she's actually breathing. Only if she was, was her last thought before drifting off to sleep.