Sparrow spent the rest of that evening yelling at her. How she was going to get him in trouble, how Crow would probably hurt him/his family/his herbs, yadda yadda yadda. Sleetkit tuned him out, just wincing and looking apologetic. It had always worked with the other nursery queens, back in SunClan, and there was no reason for it not to work now.

It worked like a charm.

Soon Sleetkit was helping Sparrow organize his herbs, chattering away to the tom. The moon passed quickly, she imagined she could feel herself growing. Every day, around noonhigh, she would pester Sparrow to measure her. Little scratched marks on the cave wall showed everyone that, indeed, the young she-cat was soon going to be considered a young lady. Sparrow looked sadly at her most days after the measurements, but Sleetkit didn't ask and Sparrow wasn't inclined to share his reasons. One day, after the usual scrapes, bruises, and one broken bone because two toms had been playing roughly, Sparrow pulled Sleetkit aside.

"I'm going to have to mark down that you're all healed, Sleetkit. You should be strong enough to go to Crow now. If you want, I can postpone it another day. I won't be able to say that for long, though. You are growing into a beautiful young thing, and I'm sure your auction will be held soon." He whispered, eyes crinkling in sadness. Sleetkit touched her tail to his shoulder, shocked to find that her back was level with his shoulder blades now. He was right, she would've been an apprentice already, back in the old clan. Sleetkit thought hard about the life she would've had, and to her horror she could barely remember the faces of her parents.

"Yeah, Sparrow, I would like that." She said, trying to cheer up the older tom.

He nodded, smiling wanly, and disappeared to talk to his helpers.

That night, Sleetkit couldn't sleep. She sat in the entrance of the healers' den, looking up at Silverpelt.

Oh, ancestors. Why did you send me here? What did I do? She thought, mind wandering. She didn't know how long she'd been sitting there until she caught sight of the she-cats slowly slinking out of camp, followed by the two guards – Bone and Chase. Curious but slightly afraid, Sleetkit followed from a distance, her sleek silver tail held out behind her to balance. She followed the group of eight or nine cats to a small clearing lit by the moon, hiding in a clump of bushes to disguise her scent. Listening, Sleetkit felt her blood heat up.

"We must kill… do it quickly….. before the time of… don't let…." Sleetkit could only catch pieces of the conversation, but what she did hear was enough to make her breath catch. Who were they going to kill? When? Questions ran through her head like a kit chasing a butterfly, and she stole out of the clearing before the other cats left. She didn't want to get caught.

Curling up in her nest in the healers' den, Sleetkit tucked her tail over her nose, eyes bright, and dreamt of dark-furred kits smashing butterflies.

In the middle of the night she felt someone wake her, drag her through camp to a strange den. It smelled of strange cats, but she was too tired to care. Her world seemed blurry, and she thought she heard Sparrow's voice whisper "I'm sorry." Then again, it was probably a bad dream.

In the morning Sleetkit awoke harshly, lashing out in mock anger at whomever it was prodding her awake. She let her eyes fall closed again, muttering.

"Sparrow, let me sleep. I only have-" her voice cut off as something entered her, slick and forceful.

She came awake fully, then, aware of the sensations in her body. It hurt, just a little, but nothing compared to last time. She supposed it was because she was older now, almost three moons had passed since the night Crow took her to the tree.

Turning her head, Sleetkit saw that it was, in fact, the dangerous hazel eyes of Crow staring back at her. He was watching her, she realized, trying to break her. Well, she wouldn't be broken. Letting out a mrrow of encouragement, she rolled over and stretched lazily, realizing she was no longer in the healers' den. Hopping onto her paws in one sleek movement, Sleetkit was in the mating crouch in a flash, exposing her core for Crow to see.

"Well? Get on with it." She laughed, though inside she was panicking.

What if this didn't work? But in the next second she saw Crow's eyes narrow, his pupils dilate, and in a flash he had buried himself in her. She arched her back and hissed, feeling his barbs scrape her walls, but the feeling wasn't entirely unwelcome. Crow bared his teeth and heave himself onto her back, gripping her scruff in his mouth and pounding into her opening. She kept herself on her paws, refusing to bow to the force of his thrusts, snidely bucking her hips to meet his once in a while. The force of his release drew her to her own, and they yowled at nearly the same time, him yanking himself free a few moments later. The stinging made Sleetkit wrinkle her nose, but when Crow sauntered out of his nest she blinked and smiled sweetly at him despite his words.

"See that you clean my nest, pet." He snarled, and she watched his tabby hindquarters until he was out of sight. Gingerly, she sat down on her haunches, looking experimentally at the white ooze leaking from between her legs. She decided it must've been Crow's and so she bent to lap it up. He did say clean, didn't he?

She looked around once she finished cleaning herself, face paling at the sheer messiness of it all. His nest was in disarray from their time together, leaves and moss strewn over the floor. Prey-pieces littered the floor in one corner, and a pool of water was muddy and filled with twigs. She sighed. This was going to be a long day.

Around sunhigh she finished cleaning, Crow's den looking better than it had in moons. She'd created a semblance of order in his sleepingplace, filling it with soft mosses and leaves. She rid the dirt floor of pebbles and stray twigs, cleaning out the rotten prey-pieces and filling the muddy waterhole with sandy loam. It was immaculate, and she was quite proud. After that she tried to leave, but two burly toms – Bone and Chase – blocked her exit. She had growled in frustration, but when they didn't budge she settled down for a nap.

For the second time that day she was awoken with the hot pleasure of Crow's member between her legs, and she squeaked in pain and pleasure. He was gentler this time, setting a slow, languid pace that filled her to bursting. His length and girth still bruised her insides, but she was beginning to relish the pain of it.

He growled out at her warm, enfolding tightness, unsheathed claws digging into her sides. A wail rose from her throat when he bit her scruff, automatically sending a rush of endorphins to her brain that both stimulated her nerves and caused her to relax.

Crow growled again, causing the young she-cat to shiver. Another growl and she was practically begging him to go faster, harder. He complied, snapping his hips forward with bone-crushing force and speed, drawing out his full length before thrusting inside her again. She pushed her hips backwards to meet his thrusts, needy when he withdrew and writhing in pleasure when he forced his entrance again.

Their fur rustled as it rubbed together, growing louder and more fervent with each passing thrust. Sleetkit sunk down nearly to ground level, her hips swaying in the air as he continued to pound away inside her. He growled out her name and she released a chortled cry when they climaxed, his barbs shredding her thin walls and causing her cry to rise into a shriek. They both sank to the floor, energy spent, panting in the dark. After a time he withdrew, causing a new rush of pain for the smaller she-cat. She looked between her legs to see the familiar whiteness leaking from her depths, but when she bent her head to clean it he pushed her roughly aside, voice rumbling deep in his throat.

"Let me."

She nodded silently and rolled over to expose her belly. His rough, long tongue cleaned the sticky mixture from her fur and entrance, the heady scent of her filling the small den. He began to purr low in his throat, but she pretended not to notice. He set a rhythmic pace that soon had her eyelids drooping from the steady, relaxing pressure. She did not want to sleep, did not want him to see her so vulnerable, but she was so tired she let herself nod off to the warm rasp of his tongue against her fur.