I don't feel much better but obviously this is a good time to be writing. I'm already working on the next chapter. I apologize in advance to those of you who review with questions or comments about previous chapters, because I'll probably take a while to answer them.

So.

Willowheart.

You knew she was sick; it was pretty obvious. I held off on naming the illness, because cats wouldn't know what it is. Willowheart had hyperthyroidism at first, when she was young. It resulted in her being skinny, overheating, and constantly hungry. Later on, it progressed further and developed into chronic kidney failure, hence anemia (pale nose), dementia (purring episodes), and seizures (twitching and "falling sickness). In the previous chapter, while Mapleshade was out gathering moss, Willowheart "crashed," meaning her condition abruptly worsened and led to her death.

All right, there's that explanation. Back to work on the next chapter!

When they were born, they were perfect.

Four tiny lives, mewling and squirming to get closer to her. Mapleshade looked down at their damp fur, their eyes shut tightly, their tiny ears, and let out a slow breath. Blizzardpelt blinked down at her. "You've done very well, Mapleshade. Will you name them now?" He didn't ask who the father was, didn't look around as if expecting some cat to show up and offer names. His eyes were kind.

She looked down at them. Three toms and one she-kit. One tom was bright ginger, his pelt like a brand of fire. "Flamekit," she mewed weakly, tapping him with a paw. He mewled slightly in protest. The next tom was bigger, black with a splash of white on his belly and paws. With a purr, Mapleshade nosed him. "Breezekit," she murmured, thinking of Breezestar. The ThunderClan leader was old, and she wanted everyone in the Clan to look at her son and think of their wise leader after he passed on. Beside Breezekit was the tiny tabby she-kit. As if sensing her mother's gaze on her, she opened her mouth and let out a loud squeak. Laughing, Mapleshade meowed, "Seedkit." Finally was the last tom, as small as his sister and almost the same colors. "Skykit," she named him.

Though she had considered naming one of her kits after Willowheart, Mapleshade couldn't bear to do so. All of her memories of happy times with her sister, curled up together or talking, had been erased with what she had seen when Willowheart died – a broken shell of a cat, purring frantically. She didn't want her kits to remind her of such a thing, no matter how insensitive it may have seemed.

"Fine names for fine kids," Blizzardpelt agreed. "Shall I announce their names to the Clan?"

She nodded exhaustedly and curled herself more tightly around the kits – her kits.

It was the same with everyone. She hadn't noticed it at first, but when her own mother visited and didn't say a word about the kits' father, Mapleshade began to wonder why no one had noticed.

She knew her Clanmates had to be wondering. When Daisythorn had announced that she was pregnant, one of the first questions everyone asked was about the father. No one – no one – had asked Mapleshade. No one looked around as if they expected him to be there at her side constantly, as Rushflame had when his and Daisythorn's kits had been born.

In fact, there wasn't even any curiosity in their gazes when they visited the kits. Instead they looked almost… sorrowful.

Sorrow. Why sorrow?

That's when it hit Mapleshade.

They thought Ravenwing had fathered her kits.

Her mentor had been a good friend to her even after her discovery that he had stolen from ShadowClan, and more so over the seasons. He had regained her respect in full by becoming the best warrior he could be. They had been close from the day she was apprenticed to the day he died. And looking back on it now, Mapleshade could compare his actions around her to Shredtail's and see clearly that there was something there. True, Ravenwing had been considerably older than her, and true, he had been her mentor. But she had caught glances from him sometimes that held a deeper meaning.

Was it cruel of her to reject him? Had she actually rejected him, not knowing what he felt for her? Mapleshade hoped that Ravenwing had understood that she was unaware, hoped he had harbored no resentment towards her. And she hoped he would have understood if she let her Clanmates make assumptions.

It was a good solution for her, no matter how much it hurt to let them think such a thing. Ravenwing had died shortly after she'd learned that she was pregnant, so it was possible in their minds that he was the father. Perhaps it had seemed to them that her grief over his death exceeded that of a mourning friend, though it wasn't true – Mapleshade had lost the cat who had become her closest friend in the absence of Willowheart and Shredtail.

"Mama?"

She looked down, blinking. Skykit was staring up at her. His eyes were blue like those of all kits, but were just beginning to change to a vivid green. "Can I go see Blizzardpelt?"

Skykit and Goosekit had been competing for Blizzardpelt's attention, both of them immensely interested in the medicine den. Her son was determined to prove to the hefty white tom that he was the best choice for an apprentice even though Goosekit was older and would probably be chosen simply because he would have the first chance. It was a valiant effort, though, and Mapleshade couldn't help but hope that Goosekit would lose interest so that Skykit could become the medicine cat apprentice.

"Of course," she purred, licking the top of his head. Unlike Breezekit, he never squirmed away when she groomed him, though he always looked vaguely disgruntled by the attention. "You're nearly three moons old, dear, you don't need to ask permission to visit him."

"Thanks, Mama!" Skykit exclaimed, spinning around and dashing out of the nursery and towards the medicine den. Mapleshade chuckled softly, amused by her son's enthusiasm. He didn't show much eagerness for anything else – in fact, he was very formal and polite to warriors, as if they bored him but he didn't want to show it – but the mere mention of herbs set his eyes alight.

Seedkit and Breezekit were still asleep, curled up together. The two were practically inseparable – her hardheaded son had immediately taken to protecting his much smaller sister, though of course there wasn't much she needed to be protected from, young as they were. Mapleshade closed her eyes in alarm, not wanting to imagine her kits grown up and forced to fight in battle.

Flamekit was around somewhere, she knew. The bright ginger kit was friendly and cheerful, rousing himself every morning at the same time as the dawn patrol so that he could wish them a good morning before returning to the nursery to sleep for a while longer. Once the sun had risen, he would drop by the medicine den – which had Skykit spitting jealously until he realized it was only Flamekit saying hello – followed by the elders' den. From there he would greet everyone in the clearing who he had yet to speak to. Most of the warriors were glad to return the greeting, but Mapleshade had noticed Shredtail always glared at Flamekit and pointedly ignored him.

In fact, Shredtail ignored her kits as much as possible overall. If they were in the area, he would get up and move with a venomous look or stay there and hiss whenever they neared him. Though she was willing to put up with him when it was her own dignity at stake, Mapleshade had no intention of letting him harass her kits and let him know as much promptly. He turned away, but she noticed that he moved away more, deliberately antagonizing them less often. She felt for her kits, who had no idea why Shredtail harbored such distaste for them.

Mapleshade got to her paws and stretched, brushing her muzzle against the heads of her sleeping kits. Breezekit roused slightly, squinting up at her with one blue-turning-amber eye. "Where ya goin'?" he mumbled sleepily.

"I'm going to go into the forest and hunt, all right? Maybe when I get back you can all share whatever I bring back," Mapleshade purred.

"'Kay," Breezekit muttered before burying his face in his sister's scruff. She wriggled, nose wrinkling, before find a position that was apparently comfortable for them both. Mapleshade cast a fond look at them before turning to squeeze out of the nursery.

The camp was cold, as it was the middle of leaf-bare. The trees around the gorge were spindly, their branches free of leaves. Breezestar reclined atop the Highrock, eyes mere slits as he enjoyed the sun. His once-jet-black fur was dotted with silver, and the white on his chest and paws had extended as he aged.

"Going for a walk, Mapleshade?" he called down to her, nodding a greeting.

"That I am, Breezestar. Skykit is occupied in the medicine den, Seedkit and Breezekit are still asleep, and Flamekit…" she paused and looked around for her third son.

From behind Breezestar, a tiny orange head popped up. "I'm up here, Mama!"

"Wha – are you bothering Breezestar?" she exclaimed crossly.

"No, no, Mapleshade, I invited him up," Breezestar replied reassuringly. "Figured he might want to see the view from up here."

"I can see the whole world!" Flamekit added, striding forward until he stood at the very tip of the rock. His pelt shone in the winter sunlight, looking for all the world as if he were made of flames.

Mapleshade purred. "All right, little one. As long as you're not making trouble, I'm leaving to hunt for a while. Make sure you stay out of trouble!"

"I'll see to it that he does," the leader assured her. "Go outside, enjoy yourself. And good luck with your hunting!"

"Thank you," she meowed, and slid out of the camp entrance.

The forest was quieter than usual without any leaves rustling in the wind. Mapleshade padded through the sparse undergrowth, letting her paws guide her. Eventually she stopped in a small clearing where she knew mice often nested for the winter. Crouching down, she went still and watched in silence for the prey to show itself.

It felt like only a few moments, but must have been longer, when she heard soft pawsteps behind her. Mapleshade twitched an ear crossly; the prey would be disturbed by now. With a sigh, she turned to face the cat who approached.

"Shredtail?" she blinked, looking at the dark tabby tom in confusion. "What do you want?"

"Mapleshade," he greeted her. There was a strange look in his eyes, an expression that she couldn't decipher. "We need to talk."