"Well, Sandstorm, it looks like you're expecting kits."
Sandstorm drew in a quick breath. Could it be? She'd suspected for some time, but it was certainly jarring to know without a doubt that there were tiny lives growing inside her. Then, her shock turned to joy. She was expecting kits!
"Congratulations."
"Thanks, Cinderpelt. If you'll excuse me, I've got to tell Firestar."
She thought the medicine cat looked slightly subdued as she replied. "Alright. Come back and see me before sunhigh. I'll need to go over some things with you."
Sandstorm wondered if Cinderpelt was possibly jealous, but shrugged the thought away. She was no fool; she had always known about the medicine cat's love for Firestar, but she knew for a fact her mate did not reciprocate it: in fact, he was completely unaware of the depth of his friend's feelings. That meant the gray she-cat was no threat to her. It wasn't her problem if Cinderpelt wanted to moon over something that could never be. With a flick of her ears, she exited the medicine den.
Catching sight of Dustpelt emerging through the camp entrance, Sandstorm bounded over to him. "Dustpelt, what's wrong? Where's Firestar?" The flame-colored leader had decided to lead a border patrol himself that morning to investigate the ex-BloodClan warriors lurking around Twolegplace for the past few days.
"He went off hunting with Graystripe. We didn't see any sign of the BloodClan cats, so the rest of us just finished our patrol and came back to camp." Dustpelt paused. "You could probably go and join him if you wanted. He was headed toward the Great Sycamore."
Sandstorm pawed the ground awkwardly. She didn't want to endanger the kits in her belly by traipsing about in the forest, not until she knew how much she could safely exert herself. "No...no, I think I'll stay in camp."
Dustpelt eyed her curiously, then headed for the fresh-kill pile. Alone once more, Sandstorm pondered what she ought to do with herself until Firestar came back. She eventually found a nice patch of sunshine and lay on her side, basking in the heat of the ground beneath her. It was lucky that leaf-bare was coming to a close, she realized; it could be dangerous to have kits in such a cold season. Relaxed, she allowed her mind to fully process the idea of having kits, and what that would mean for the future.
It was hard to believe that what she'd dreamt of for so long was finally going to become reality. Sandstorm had wanted kits for moons, but Firestar had been too dense to take a hint, so she'd been forced to broach the subject of starting a family herself one lazy afternoon, when they'd been sharing tongues in his den. For the first time it struck her that her kits would also be the Clan leader's kits: they would undeniably hold an important position in the Clan from birth, and her pregnancy would be a source of great excitement once she broke the news. And Firestar, for all his inevitable anxieties, would be beyond pleased. How he would love children of his own! Not to mention that kits would bind the two of them together forever, and she would never have to worry again how he felt about her in comparison to Spottedleaf. Spottedleaf had never borne his kits, she thought with a smug satisfaction. She found herself itching with impatience for her mate to return from his hunt.
But sunhigh came and went, and still the ThunderClan leader made no appearance. Sandstorm sulkily returned to the medicine den alone to speak with Cinderpelt, and though it was probably just her being oversensitive, she thought she caught a glint in the medicine cat's eye as she sensed Sandstorm's irritation in not having told Firestar yet. She was continuously asked to go on hunting patrols throughout the day and kept having to reject them, citing illness as an excuse. Annoyance began to prickle through her pelt. Where was the ginger furball when you needed him? She didn't want her Clanmates to catch on before Firestar himself knew!
It was not until twilight that Firestar and Graystripe finally showed up at the camp again. Sandstorm hurried over immediately, and was alarmed to see that they were empty-pawed and bearing some light scratches on their flanks. To her annoyance, the Clan clustered around the pair in a tight, anxious circle, so that she could not get anywhere near her mate.
It was Graystripe who explained. "BloodClan cats ambushed us while we were out hunting. They stole our prey, and there were too many for us to fight them off. We followed their scent trail for a while, but we lost it in the heavy dew. It ended right near Twolegplace."
"Those crow-food eaters," Mousefur growled. "Didn't they get the message that they're not wanted here in the battle? We should track them down and teach them a lesson."
Several cats caterwauled in agreement, and Firestar broke in grimly. "No. Not yet. We don't know what we're dealing with here, and there could be a lot more of these cats than we think. I'll send a patrol to check things out in the morning, but for now every cat should be on their guard. We don't want to lose more prey, especially not while it's still leaf-bare. The Clan depends on every morsel."
He turned away wearily, his tail dragging in the dust, as he trudged toward Cinderpelt's den. Sandstorm stared after him. Then she headed for the fresh-kill pile and chose a bluejay for herself and a mouse for her mate. He would be hungry after all the excitement of the day. Hungry and distracted, she thought.
Eventually, Firestar emerged from the medicine den with some fresh cobwebs on his pelt, and, spotting her near the fresh-kill pile, headed towards her and sank down slowly onto his haunches. He looked exhausted. Sandstorm nosed his ear gently. "You look awful. Here, I saved you a mouse."
"Thanks, Sandstorm," Firestar murmured, and dug in gratefully. Sandstorm, who had already finished her prey, simply watched him for a while. Then she spoke. "Firestar, can we talk somewhere privately? I have something to tell you."
Firestar swallowed and swiped his tongue around his jaws. "Not now, Sandstorm, sorry. I've things to do. I've got to have a talk with Graystripe about patrols, and then check that all the duties for the day have been done, with both of us absent for so long."
Sandstorm flicked her tail irritably. "Everything's been taken care of. You need to rest."
"Leaders don't get to rest." Firestar sighed and heaved himself to his paws. "I'll see you later." And with that, he turned and made his way to Graystripe, who was talking with Cloudtail near the warriors' den.
As if on a cue, Sandstorm felt something move inside her belly, and she stiffened in surprise. My kits! If only she'd been able to share this moment with Firestar, the first time she'd felt their kits move. She'd wanted him to know by now; this was not how she had expected the day to go. The BloodClan raid had ruined everything! Lashing her tail in frustration, she stalked over to the leader's den to lay in wait for him there.
By the time Firestar reached his den, night had washed over the camp in deep shadows, and the first warriors of Silverpelt were twinkling in the sky. Sandstorm lay with her head on her paws, green eyes slanted as she fixed her gaze on her mate.
"Took you long enough," she commented, sinking her claws into the sandy floor and leaning backward in a luxurious stretch. "How was everything?"
Her mate let out a long sigh. "Fine. The camp ran smoothly while I was gone."
"Told you."
Firestar sighed again. "I just can't believe that we're still dealing with BloodClan, after all this time. They disappeared for two moons, and now they're back again? What have they been doing all this time?"
Sandstorm ran her tail along his flank. "Don't worry. We'll sort them out."
"I don't want another battle," Firestar continued. "The Clan is weak after leaf-bare. It's been a long, cold season, and we're just getting our strength back. And I can only imagine how the other Clans are going to react to this. Leopardstar isn't likely to be happy about it, and I still don't trust Blackstar."
Sandstorm felt herself growing more and more annoyed. Was he going to talk about his worries all night? Didn't he remember that she had something to tell him? She tried to force herself to relax, but it was like she couldn't get a proper grasp on her emotions.
"Well, there's no point in getting worked up over it. Things will work out eventually," she mewed briskly.
Firestar shot her a sidelong glance. "Yes, I suppose they will," he meowed slowly. "Well, good night, Sandstorm." He promptly rolled over onto his side and shut his eyes. Sandstorm stared in disbelief. After a moment, she prodded him with her paw. The flame-colored cat grunted sleepily. "What?"
"I have to tell you something, Firestar," she mewed tartly.
"Oh, yes," Firestar stretched his jaws in a wide yawn before blinking a few times and raising his head. "What did you want?"
Suddenly Sandstorm felt confused. She couldn't just come out with it like that. He was tired; he didn't seem at all invested in what she was saying. This was her first time having kits, perhaps her only time, and this was not how she had wanted her revelation to go. A moment like this had to be special.
She waved her tail in exasperation. "Oh, never mind!" she snapped, and abruptly curled into a tight ball, her back turned to him pointedly.
Firestar felt utterly bewildered. What had he done now? "For StarClan's sake, Sandstorm, what is it?" When she didn't answer, his irritation began to rise. He had had a very long day, and Sandstorm was usually infinitely sympathetic to his problems, always ready to listen and give advice when he needed it. All the time when he was trekking through the forest after the BloodClan cats, he had craved the soft warmth of her fur against his, and her reassuring words that put all his troubles into perspective. Now she was just being petty, for no reason at all. It wasn't Sandstorm who had to make decisions for all the Clan, and put up a strong front so that no one would see the anxiety behind his commands, and worry daily about how they would all be fed in the bitter cold. The least she could do was curb her temper when he was at his lowest.
"Very well, don't tell me! Though I can't see what I did. Why do she-cats have to be so difficult? Why can't they just be upfront about things, like toms?"
Sandstorm instantly sprang to her paws, her eyes glaring fury. "What do you know about she-cats?" she spat. "What do you know about what we go through? It's not my fault you're such a mouse-brain all the time, unable to see past the tips of your whiskers. If a tom had half the sense of a she-cat, perhaps he'd have caught on by now." She swung away from him and sped out of the den without another word. Firestar looked after her, appalled.
...What was that about?
Early the next morning, Firestar went to go and visit Cinderpelt. Perhaps his wise friend could make sense of what had happened last night.
"Cinderpelt, do you know what's the matter with Sandstorm? I didn't see her at all yesterday, but when I got home she was very short with me, and now I can't find her anywhere."
Cinderpelt looked faintly surprised. "I do, but I think you had better go and talk to her about it. It's not my place to say."
"What are you talking about?" Firestar was growing increasingly annoyed. Yet another she-cat who can't just say what's on her mind! Was there something very obviously wrong with his mate that he had been missing? His pelt began to prickle with anxiety. What did the medicine cat know that he didn't?
Cinderpelt must have seen the worry in his eyes, because her face softened and she touched the tip of her tail to his shoulder. "Don't worry. It's good news, for the whole Clan. Go and find her. I'm sure she's not far from camp."
Firestar felt even more confused than before. He padded out of the medicine den, shaking his head. If Sandstorm had good news for him, then why had she been so upset? Unless… Firestar stopped dead in his tracks. Then he pelted out of the camp as if a whole pack of foxes were behind him.
Meanwhile, Sandstorm was miserable. She'd surely ruined everything now. Carrying kits was supposed to be a joyous time, but she'd managed to make a mess of everything by losing her temper with Firestar. He had been stressed out last night, she had seen that, and under normal circumstances she would have been more forgiving, willing to wait until he was in a better mood to tell him. But somehow, her emotions had gotten the best of her, and now when she told him he wouldn't be half as enthusiastic. She trudged slowly through the forest. It wasn't his fault he was so dense.
After running out of the den last night, the ginger she-cat had gone to sleep at the edge of the warriors' den, and then woken early in the morning, before even the dawn patrol had left. She'd felt nauseous, and had left camp under the pretense of hunting before vomiting under a tree after walking only a few fox-lengths. So far, having kits didn't seem like all it was cracked up to be. She was ill, tired, irritable, and nearly always hungry. Giving her pelt a shake, she decided to actually hunt for a while, to get her mind off of things.
But the hunt did not go well. Her paws felt heavy and clumsy, so unlike her normally swift-footed stride, and she managed to mistime every jump she made. "Mouse dung!" she exclaimed in dismay when the starling she had been stalking fluttered away, issuing a raucous alarm call throughout the forest. Her pelt burned with embarrassment, and she was glad she was alone. She prided herself on her hunting skills, and this pathetic display was doing her mood no favors.
Finally, Sandstorm purred with satisfaction as she successfully pounced on a shrew and delivered a swift bite to the neck. She was just getting ready to scrape dirt over it and continue on with her hunt when a rank scent overpowered her nostrils. Whipping around from side to side, she spotted a dark shape moving stealthily through the trees. A BloodClan warrior?
Forgetting her fatigue, Sandstorm charged forward until she was face to face with the intruder. It was a black tom with a torn ear, and so thin she could see every one of his ribs sticking out beneath his pelt. Instinctively, she dropped into a crouch and bared her teeth.
"Get out of here!" she hissed, swiping a paw at his muzzle. "This is ThunderClan territory."
The black tom reared backward, then shook his broad head from side to side and stood his ground. "Who's going to make me?" he taunted, and then darted around her to where she'd hidden her shrew. Sandstorm chased after him, but she found she wasn't as fast as she used to be. She was out of breath before she had even reached him, and knew it would be pointless to attack. Her belly suddenly lurched in fear at the thought of any harm coming to the kits she was carrying.
"Fox dung!" Sandstorm spat. "That's ThunderClan prey."
"It's mine now," the black tom sneered, "and it doesn't appear there's anything you can do about it. Some mighty warrior you are."
A low growl started in the back of Sandstorm's throat as she watched the tom snatch up the shrew and creep toward her, his eyes glinting a challenge. She braced herself, ready to defend ThunderClan territory with her life, but also knowing she could not allow herself to be attacked if it meant she would lose her kits.
Then, from out of nowhere, a dark ginger shape hurtled into the clearing and pinned the BloodClan cat to the ground. Sandstorm watched in horror as Firestar leaned in close to the tom's muzzle and let out a threatening snarl, before he quickly jerked his head in her direction. "Sandstorm, run!"
Sandstorm hesitated for a brief moment, not wanting to leave her mate, but she had no other option. She turned and ran, not knowing where she was going, only that she had to get away and protect her kits, no matter what the cost. When she finally stopped, the forest was swirling around her in a haze, and it took her a few moments to realize she was halfway back to camp.
Frantically she sniffed the air to try to figure out where she'd come from, listening acutely for the sound of any battle, ready to go back and assist Firestar if he were in serious danger. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest. When she heard nothing, she was seized with terror, until she caught the faint thrumming of paws against the forest floor.
"Sandstorm!" A panicked cry rang through the forest. Firestar!
"Firestar!" she called out. Suddenly the flame-colored tom exploded from a clump of ferns and skidded to a halt by her side, his flanks heaving. Her eyes swiftly flitted over his pelt, and relief flooded her senses when she realized he was unharmed. "Are you alright? What happened to the BloodClan cat?"
"I'm fine," Firestar panted. "I chased him off. I only worried he'd hurt you." Her mate then surprised her by drawing her close with his tail and burying his muzzle into her fur.
"I'm alright, Firestar," Sandstorm told him gently, bewildered, as he began to cover her ears with licks. "I got away, thanks to you. I can't believe he came so close to the camp. Why didn't a patrol catch him?"
Firestar shook his head. "I don't know. These cats must know our territory better than we thought. I couldn't save your shrew." He paused and then added, "But you still need to eat something. Come on, let's get back to camp." He moved to begin walking, but Sandstorm laid her tail across his flank in surprise.
"Firestar...wait." He stopped and turned, and she was taken aback by the softness in his eyes as he gazed at her. "Why did you tell me to run?"
Firestar shifted his paws uneasily. "Well...I know you can take care of yourself. But I couldn't let him harm you." He padded closer to her, and his next words came out in a whisper. "You or our kits."
A purr burst from Sandstorm's chest. "You know."
"I may have figured it out this morning," Firestar admitted. "I know I probably should've earlier. But I've never been good at reading your mind - you know that. As soon as I knew, I ran to find you. I'm glad I showed up when I did."
Her purrs grew louder, and she leaned forward to rasp her tongue over his ear. "No, there's no reason why you should've known." As Firestar looked at her in surprise, she continued, "I know I shouldn't have lost my temper. It's just...well, I've been a bit moody lately."
Firestar let out a mrrow of amusement. "I don't mind. I'll do anything I can to make you comfortable during this pregnancy. You won't have to worry about a thing. And we'll have the most beautiful kits in the forest."
Sandstorm moved to press her pelt close to his. Tails twined, the pair of cats walked slowly towards the camp, murmuring softly to each other all the way.