Soon the nursery became crowded with three more bodies, as Fogcloud moved in and had her two she-kits. Emberkit was already five moons old, but despite the great age gap, took interest in his new tiny denmates. He had never met other kits before, as he was the only one in his litter to survive, and was often quite lonely because of it. They were just starting to open their eyes, and Emberkit watched with amusement at their faces as they looked around the den.
Mockingkit squeaked with surprise, quickly burying her face in her mother's fur. Nettlestem and Fogcloud both purred at the young bundle of fluff. Mistlekit, on the other hand, tried moving closer to the den walls, stretching out a paw to touch it. Emberkit thought that she would make a fun denmate to play with. Mockingkit looked like an exact replica of her mother, her gray and white pelt matching Fogcloud's. Mistlekit looked instead more like her father, Aspenleaf. Her brown fuzzy pelt would hide her well in the forest.
Emberkit's own pelt was a mix of his father and mother's. His sleek black fur was broken up by bits of ginger patches. His face was half ginger as well, and his eye on that side was dark blue, while the eye on the other side was a deep green. Nettlestem often looked at him worridly because of it, and no matter how much she pushed it away, she heard the medicine cat's voice after Nettlestem had given birth to him.
It was a long and hard labor. Nettlestem yowled again, exhausted and full of pain. Altough she was a younger queen, her energy was being drained fast, which worried Fernshade, the Thunderclan medicine cat. Her kits shouldn't be having so much trouble coming out. He had already given the queen three different sticks to bite through, and she had long since broken every single one. She had been going through labor since dawn, and it was already passed sunhigh.
Fershade gasped as a powerful ripple went through Nettlestem's body, and finally a kit plopped out. He quickly nipped the casing and a little black tom became visible. But Fernshade felt a horrible chill go through him from his ears to his tail-tip. This kit was already dead.
The two other kits came shortly after, all dead like their brother. Nettlestem was groaning softly, not quite done yet. Fernshade's heart ached for the queen, and he prayed to StarClan that she would have the strength to continue. After what seemed like forever, the last kit came out. He nipped the sack like he did for the rest of them, and to his surprise, this final kit was alive. Fernshade got to licking with with vigor, new hope filling his paws. The kit started breathing, and Fernshade let out a relieved breath. Nettlestem groaned again, and he quickly looked over the queen, noting how lucky she was to still be alive after such a hard birth. He pushed the kit to his mother's belly, and he started to suckle.
"You have a tom," Fershade purred. He looked down at the kit, but something strange seemed to happen. The medicine cat was now looking at the camp, and the now-grown tom was staring at him. His eyes made Fernshade's stomach uneasy. He had never seen such a combination before in a cat. It had to be a sign. Then blood started to seep around the cat, and the medicine cat leaped back with a hiss. This kit was going to grow up to spill blood. StarClan was warning him.
Once Fernshade snapped out of the dream, he glared at the little kit. Nettlestem looked up at him with her tired eyes, noticing the change and the fur on her back started to bristle. "That kit is going to grow up to be a dangerous cat for all of us," he spat. "I have seen it. Blood will follow his wake."