Get
my television fixed
sitting on my crucifix
The living room or my
private womb
While the moms and brads are away
To fall in
love and fall in debt
To alcohol and cigarettes and Mary Jane
To
keep me insane and doing someone else's cocaine
Stormkit pounced on Graystripe's gray tail. All three of the ThunderClan-blood cats had been in RiverClan for almost a moon now. Graystripe hadn't been permitted to go to Gatherings, hunt, or go on patrols. The cats still didn't trust him, and many of the cats looked down on the kits.
Mistyfoot padded by, gazing at the kits fondly, her belly showing clearly now. "They're beautiful kits, Graystripe," she purred. "Featherkit definitely has her mother's look, but Stormkit has yours." She smiled at them and padded back into the nursery, where she was greeted at the entrance by her brother and another tom, Blackclaw, who was a smoky gray tom. Blackclaw waited for a moment as Stonefur and Mistyfoot exchanged words and he pressed his muzzle to her flank lovingly. He turned and padded on, his gray pelt glistening in the sunlight.
Blackclaw padded forward and muttered a few words that Stormkit couldn't hear, too, and then pressed his muzzle against hers. But he did catch, "Our kits will be beautiful, Mistyfoot." Mistyfoot nodded, like there was something about the tom that bothered her. And it was a bit obvious: he was a big tom, muscles smooth under his fur, but still protruding, and he could tell that the kits would be a debt repaid to the Clan and just to help the Clan, that she didn't really love him, but would love her kits all the more.