Chapter Twelve
They got back to camp and Fireheart was instantly surrounded by pale grey and tabby fur.
Willowpelt and Brindleface, he realized groggily. Sandstorm was still plastered to his side and the group slipped, one by one, into the nursery.
His eyes needed a few moments to adjust to the minimal sunlight, but once they did, he didn't regret being there. Brindleface curled back around Ashkit and Fernkit, while Goldenflower's protective gaze swept over all four of the kits at her belly.
Stormkit and Featherkit might not remember their time in ThunderClan; as much as that hurt to think about, Fireheart knew that it was for the best. The only attachment they had to ThunderClan was the fact that they were too weak to be without a mother for long, and Fireheart happened to find them.
They were scrawny, and the ginger tom knew that they'd get bigger as time went on, but Stars if it didn't make his heart twist…
"Thank you." He mumbled at last. "I can never repay you for this-."
"We cherish all kits." Goldenflower murmured. "Those brought into this world haven't been given enough information to do anything but wish to be safe and warm. Any cat who gets in the way of such goals is not a true cat."
Fireheart dipped his head gratefully.
"I'll bring you all the prey in the forest." He vowed.
That made Goldenflower laugh, much to her kits confusion.
"Have fun competing with Tigerclaw. He's determined that everything be perfect."
Fireheart snickered.
"I'll bet."
The dark brown deputy was many things, but he would not have anything less than the best for those he considered family.
His definition of the best is skewed to Highstones, even if he means well.
Fireheart shook his head to rid himself of the dark thoughts.
"You laugh now, but this'll be you and Sandstorm one day." Brindleface purred. Both cats went stock-still at the proclamation.
"Perhaps not for a while yet, mother." Sandstorm choked out.
"Your talk of grandkits shall have to be set aside, Brindleface. These two are no more than children themselves. They should see the world before they settle in." Willowpelt offered.
"Oh, sure, that'll be moons away. Don't worry. But in the meantime, you are fun to tease, dear." the grey and white tabby chortled to her daughter. Fireheart practically felt his mate heating up with embarrassment.
"Thank you." He laughed. "You all are very good at getting cats' minds off things."
"Comes with the territory, dear. Ask your sister when she gets back. She'll tell you that a mother knows best."
Fireheart and Sandstorm laughed as they backed out of the nursery, to be met with an amused Dustpelt.
"They're trying to keep you in there permanently, aren't they, Sandstorm?" He chuckled.
"Not you too!" She groaned.
"I jest, I jest. How are the kits?" He asked, more serious.
"Snug and warm and dead to the world." Fireheart snorted. "They'll be more than fine in that nursery."
"Yeah, queens are too awesome for anything else." Dustpelt offered warmly. "Your friend's kits will be fine, Fireheart. You should get some rest."
Fireheart slept in his nest that night, smothered by Sandstorm's warmth and glad for it.
"I guess I know why you said what you did before."
"Trust me when I say that no one could have predicted that without the knowledge of the First Ancestors. Battles and famine, we can easily warn against, but there are some things that have been purely left to chance."
Spottedleaf was the one to deliver these words, much like she had on the night of Lionheart's vigil.
"At the very least, Greystripe will be fine in RiverClan."
"Fine is not the word I would use." A new voice scoffed lightly. Silverstream padded over from practically out of nowhere, pelt shining with all the stars in the night sky.
"You look better than you have been." Fireheart offered calmly.
"I suppose that should be a compliment." The silver she-cat snorted. "Thank you for taking in my kits."
"Don't thank me yet." Fireheart scoffed. "At least wait until they survive their first night."
"They'll survive much more than that." His RiverClan friend growled, determined. Fireheart dipped his head reluctantly. Stars forbid anything happen to either of Silverstream's kits, but he couldn't help remembering how their fates had played out in his last life.
"You will care for them, won't you? When the time comes?" The slender she-cat pleaded. Fireheart dipped his head.
"I'd be honored, and I'm sure Sandstorm would be glad to help me." He muttered.
Not that it would last long. He counted on them being in RiverClan in a couple moons. There wouldn't be much of his Clan for them to remember by then.
His thoughts were disturbed by something jabbing him in the side, and when he glanced up, Silverstream, Redtail, and Spottedleaf were gone.
"Good morning." Sandstorm's breath was warm on his ear, and he recalled dimly that at some point, his mate had actually climbed into his nest and curled around him just like her father had when Fireheart was an apprentice.
"You and your father are just big for no reason." The ginger tom informed his companion.
"You're just mad because I'm bigger than you and still have my winter coat." She snickered quietly. "I can out-fluff you anyday."
"Yeah, well you'll hate all that fur come greenleaf." He snorted. "Now if you'd do me the honor of letting me get up, I'm going to make good on my promise to Goldenflower."
"Feel free to stay in your nest." Tigerclaw's voice was positively eerie for how gentle it was, and Fireheart fought to remember that the larger tom would eventually betray them. "I've decided the patrols already, and I don't want you going out alone until we've found Greystripe."
"There's no reason to find Greystripe." Fireheart yawned. "He should be off ThunderClan territory by now."
"Let's not count on that." Darkstripe snorted from four nests to his left. "Besides, you tend to get in trouble when you go outside of camp."
"So I'm just not going to hunt?" Fireheart asked wearily.
"We don't have our warriors work just after they've lost loved ones." Mousefur informed him gently. "I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I lost Runningwind or Sandstorm."
Fireheart was reminded again of Tulipwood, the she-cat who had died of famine not long after her daughter had become an apprentice.
Silverstream had been a dear friend, a sister in all but name, and he desperately wished that she'd had more time.
Not every stone in the river alters its course.
Silverstream was destined to go on that walk. Stormfur and Feathertail were destined to grow up without their mother… but not destined to be orphans. What was a Clan if these two kits didn't receive the best care they could during their time here? Goldenflower would love them as her own, right alongside the other queens. The rest of the Clan would have no reason to treat kits harshly, no matter what Clan they were from.
Sandstorm all but burrowed into his nest as if he were a clump of feathers, but she wrapped her paws around his forelegs.
"You're thinking too hard." She murmured gently. "Go back to sleep."
So he did.