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CHAPTER TWO

Redcloud, the ThunderClan medicine cat, was crouching beside Elmheart. Three kits were already snuggled up to her belly, and she was in the process of giving birth to the fourth.

But something was wrong. There was so much blood. And the way she was screaming…Whitefoot shuddered. He mustn't think about that.

The black tom ran to his beloved mate's side. Elmheart raised her head weakly. "Oh, Whitefoot. These kits…my kits, they will be great warriors. StarClan has told me this, so it must be so," she murmured.

"Hush, dear. Save your strength." Whitefoot licked her ear. Elmheart's head dropped back down and let out another shriek.

"Push, Elmheart, push!" Redcloud ordered.

The tortoiseshell she-cat pushed, pushed with all her might, and finally the fourth kit emerged.

"It's not breathing! It's not breathing!" Redcloud yowled at Whitefoot.

The big black tom was staring at his mate. "What do you mean "my kits"? They are our kits, aren't they?" he murmured, so that Redcloud couldn't hear him.

Elmheart gazed up at him, her big blue eyes full of love and absolute adoration. "Oh, Whitefoot. I do love you, but I…I love another as well. He…Talonclaw is the father," she gasped.

Whitefoot lowered his head and nuzzled his mate's cheek. "What will you name them?"

Elmheart twisted her head to look at her kits. "The tortoiseshell shall be Morningkit. The ginger shall be Rowankit. The tabby shall be Hawkkit. And the…the brown…the brown one shall be…Thistlekit. Oh, StarClan, let him live. Give Thistlekit's lungs the breath of life."

As Elmheart concluded her whispered prayer, the previously unbreathing fourth kit opened his mouth and inhaled deeply.

"He's breathing! Oh, StarClan he's alive!" Redcloud cried ecstaticly.

Whitefoot let out a howl of grief, and flung himself at Elmheart's prone form.

For as the breath of life entered Thistlekit's lungs, it left Elmheart's.