"Whitestorm! Brackenpaw! Whitestorm! Brackenpaw!"

Gracefully Whitestorm padded over and reached down to touch noses with Brackenpaw. The tom's eyes were a lot calmer now, even excited, because he knew that his training would go properly now.

"You have my word I will teach you everything you need to know – and more." Murmured the tom, his eyes softly encouraging. "I will teach you at your own pace, so don't feel pressured. When you are ready, I will be waiting."

Brackenpaw's smile and glowing eyes seemed to have caught the pleased eyes of Bluestar, because the she-cat bounded off of the Highrock to join them. "I know I've made the right choice," she meowed. "Whitestorm has been taught by a good warrior, and has trained many as well."

"Thank you so much, Bluestar!" Brackenpaw's tail lifted. "I'll do my best!"

"Wait!"

The clamour died down as a sick Greystripe staggered over, much to the annoyance of Yellowfang. The tom's fur was bristling and his claws sunk into sand.

Whitestorm didn't flinch at the hostility he saw in the warrior's gaze, especially as it landed on him. He heard what sounded like a mutter of 'apprentice-stealer', and Greystripe's furious glare landed on Bluestar.

"I was training him! Why have you given my apprentice to Whitestorm?" The grey tom demanded.

Whitestorm felt Brackenpaw tense beside him. Curling his tail around the tabby tom, Whitestorm replied for her. "You speak of young Brackenpaw as though he is a plaything, Greystripe. He is free to make his own choices, as are you."

"What does that mean?" Greystripe spat, his eyes gleaming dangerously. Fireheart came up alongside his friend, hissing quietly for him to stop. "Are you saying I chose to lose my apprentice?"

"It means you chose to go out for 'walks' and solo hunting parties when you could have been training him," Whitestorm corrected.

"Whitestorm is right," Tigerclaw meowed. "And Bluestar has made it official. It's too late to change it now. Perhaps you should not have been given an apprentice to begin with, if this is how you're acting."

"Greystripe, stop!" Fireheart warned urgently. The tom was staring straight at Whitestorm. "It's not worth it. You're just showing yourself up!"

"Showing myself up?" Greystripe rounded on his friend. "I just lost my apprentice!"

"Easy, Brackenpaw," Whitestorm curled his head around to lick the tabby apprentice's head. He wasn't liking the attention at all. He let out a smooth, rumbling purr in an effort to soothe the tom. "Everything will be alright."

Suddenly there was a screech from Fireheart. Whitestorm lifted his head sharply and managed to move in time to avoid the spitting, frenzied ball of fangs and claws from rolling into him and his new apprentice. All around the clearing, cats moved out of the way with shocked yowls.

"This is all my fault!" Brackenpaw gasped.

"No," Whitestorm turned to address him, but Brackenpaw had already shot off and into the warrior's den.

"Enough!" Bluestar thundered.

Fireheart and Greystripe broke apart, bloodied and battered. Yellowfang rushed over to the two, snarling something. They immediately looked guilty.

"Greystripe, go to Yellowfang's den and stay there. Fireheart, my den – now."

Whitestorm headed for the warrior's den, but hesitated at the entrance. He could hear Brackenpaw inside, shaking like a leaf, but was going inside when he was so distressed really a good idea? 'I should give him some time to calm down.'

"Whitestorm?" Frostfur called from the nursery. Her eyes were half lidded and softly concerned. "Can I speak to you please?"

Whitestorm padded over to her. Frostfur beckoned for him to follow, where they could talk in privacy without any cat overhearing. As she settled back in her nest, Whitestorm sat beside her.

"I don't doubt the decision Bluestar made," she meowed. "You saved my kits from ShadowClan, and I will always be grateful for that. I know you'll be a worthy mentor for my kit, as is Fireheart. But there is something that you don't know, and I feel that now is the time to tell you."

Whitestorm sat in anticipation, carefully eyeing the she-cat. As of yet he hadn't managed to ask her what he had been meaning to. Frostfur looked slightly unnerved, as though she hadn't fully committed herself to revealing whatever truth she held.

Finally, she spoke. "Whitestorm, you are the father of my kits."

Whitestorm's eyes widened and he tensed visibly. But how could this be! He hadn't taken a mate yet because he'd been waiting for a better time, when the Clan wasn't threatened. 'I've just been made the mentor of my own son?' He knew that Bluestar wouldn't permit it. A cat couldn't train their own kits because they could be too soft. Whitestorm wasn't soft, but he hadn't had a kit before. 'This changes everything, doesn't it?'

"Brackenpaw, Cinderpaw, Thornpaw and Brightpaw?" He asked, surprised at how his own voice quivered.

Frostfur nodded and gazed steadily at the tom. "I know you might not want to remain my 'mate', as it were, but I thought that with everything going on, you had the right to know. Brackenpaw, Cinderpaw, Thornkit and Brightkit are our kits."

Whitestorm lapsed into an uneasy silence. He stared down at his paws, not really sure what to say, or what his reaction should be. "Why have you hidden this from me all these moons, Frostfur?"

The she-cat sighed. "I was going to tell you back when they were born, but... That night they were taken by Brokenstar and his allies, and I was too shocked to think straight. When you got back and I thanked you, I was trying to think of a way to tell you, but the kits started crying and I had to go to them. Whitestorm, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you. I wasn't sure whether you would want to know."

"Do they know?" Whitestorm asked.

Frostfur shook her head. "They just know that their father is a great warrior, and nothing more. Brackenpaw has asked me but I said I didn't want to talk about it, and none of them asked again. I think they suspect Tigerclaw."

Bluestar would probably take Brackenpaw away from him now that the truth was out in the open. Whitestorm had worked so hard to try and gain the warrior's trust – and he had – but now... "I don't blame you," he meowed, "But I'm sorry. I need some time to process this. May I come back later?"

"You're always welcome, Whitestorm," Frostfur meowed gently. "Take all the time you need."

Whitestorm dipped his head and backed out of the den. He had two sons and two daughters. Cinderpaw and Brackenpaw were already in training, but he had two more, Brightkit and Thornkit. How could this be possible? None of them had white pelts like Frostfur and him! Had they all skipped a generation – or even a few?

Whitestorm shook his head and padded over to where Bluestar was stepping out of her den with Fireheart in tow. The tom had a bite to his leg, and he'd seen a claw wound around Greystripe's eye before he'd been ordered into the medicine cat's den. As he padded towards the fresh kill pile, both cats rounded to meet him.

"Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost," Bluestar meowed.

'At some point she will have to know. But I don't think I'm ready yet. I think I'd rather bond with... my kits... first.' "Fine, Bluestar." Whitestorm straightened up and flattened the fur along his spine. "I just had a talk with Frostfur. She says she approves of your choice."

Bluestar nodded and headed back to her den. Fireheart paused. "Whitestorm, can I speak to you now about assessments?"

'My daughter's assessment.' It was strange, thinking about them in that way, but it was also strangely refreshing. It felt like Sunningrocks had fallen on his shoulders, but seeing the two turned it into a mountain of bird feathers.

"Of course, Fireheart," he drew in a breath and lifted his head, feeling somewhat proud now. "You can speak to me about anything. You know that."