Love your sisters. Beware of your brothers.
—Rosestar, first leader of RoseClan

~.~

Heathercloud had moved into the nursery not long after her apprentice, Larkfeather, had become a warrior. Roseshade had finally made her stop patrolling for she was nearing her due date.

It was lucky she wasn't out in the forest at this time.

Brightsong feared for Heathercloud, a fear that was common for every queen laboring. She herself had been blessed beautiful daughters, Sunkit and Moonkit. But Heathercloud had to face the chance that she might have a son.

"Calm down, Heathercloud," Brightsong murmured softly. "Think about the wonderful six moons you'll have. You'll have six moons to cherish no matter who they'll be." But that wasn't exactly true for herself. Brightsong had given birth to three kits, one of them a tom, but he was quickly forgotten. Blazekit had died overnight. The memory made her heart clench. She still had had to give him up — to StarClan.

"I'll never have kits again," Heathercloud hissed. She shot a glance at Brightsong, her gaze dark with anger. "Not for as long as I live." The coldness in her tone brought a chill down Brightsong's spine. She looked down at her daughters. Would I go through the fear again? Watching them sleep so peacefully, so innocently, it broke her heart. Blazekit should be with them, even though he would have eventually gone away. Yes, I would, she decided. Anything was worth having a family.

Mouseheart, Frostleaf's apprentice, emerged into the nursery, carrying herbs in her jaws. Brightsong picked out raspberry leaves and borage. The scents were familiar. It reminded her of her own fear, the fear of having a son. But it wasn't so much having a son that was the fear. It was the fear of having to give him up.

"Are you ready?" Mouseheart asked, crouching in front of Heathercloud's nest. It was a question moons too late. It was one that should've been asked before Heathercloud had gotten pregnant — before it had even been a possibility.

Heathercloud didn't reply.

A tense silence hung in the air; the main sound was Heathercloud's heavy breathing. All too quickly that silence ended. Heathercloud let out a fierce wail as a ripple shook her body.

Immediately Sunkit and Moonkit woke. "Hush, my dears," Brightsong murmured. "Let's go outside."

Moonkit let out a squeal of delight and darted out, closely followed by her sister. Brightsong glanced nervously at Heathercloud before heading out after her daughters.

The sudden chill in the air took her by surprise. A light breeze brushed her fur, sending a shiver down her spine. She cringed as Heathercloud's shriek came from the nursery. Brightsong looked over at her kits, both dashing off toward the elders' den. They loved hearing about Petalheart's stories. Brightsong wished she could be a kit again, oblivious to the pains of the real world. Inside RoseClan camp, everything was perfect, but outside, where many unknown dangers lurked beyond the border, things weren't so safe. The Rosestar tale always said that the former three Clans—IceClan, AshClan, and CloudClan—had to ban together to keep the horrid evils of the world out. But when three Clans try to merge, obviously things don't end well. It was decided that love was just a distraction. Good warriors needed to focus on training.

And so RoseClan and ThistleClan were born. The great leaders had decreed that the toms and she-cats would forever be separate, but united against the greater evil.

There was something about that story that always broke Brightsong's heart. After hearing the ancestral tale so many times in so many variations, it became quite apparent that Rosestar and Thistlestar were in love. But that small detail could only be noticed if you really felt the story.

~.~

After Mouseheart said the coast was clear, Brightsong headed into the nursery to see how Heathercloud was doing. She held her breath as she emerged inside, praying that Heathercloud was blessed with she-kits. Four tiny bodies were lying next to the exhausted queen. Brightsong instantly knew that at least one of them was a tom from Heathercloud's irritable flick of her tail.

"Are you okay, Heathercloud?" Brightsong asked softly, trying not to agitate her further.

The queen let out a huff. "Three of them, Brightsong," she whispered, her eyes closed in frustration. "Just little Sweetkit gets to stay."

"At least they'll grow into big, strong warriors."

"Of ThistleClan!" Heathercloud spat. "We should just tell them they were all she-cats and keep them here!"

Brightsong padded closed to her friend and gave her head a lick. "It's okay. Just think that one day, they might have kits, and one of your grandkits may be a she-kit."

Heathercloud let out a whimper. "Please don't let him take them, Brightsong!"

She wished she could make that promise.

But she couldn't do a thing.

Hollowstep felt an eerie giddiness flow through him as the very off-limits white she-cat sauntered into camp. When RoseClan's beautiful medicine cat sought him out, he felt his heart fluttering nervously. She had lovely ice-blue eyes, but they hit him like stones when her gaze met his. Hollowstep immediately felt ashamed for his foolish swooning. He had a mate, and she was Heathercloud. Even though Heathercloud wasn't nearly as striking as Frostleaf, Hollowstep had found himself very at ease around her. Heathercloud's long, gray fur made her look more elegant, whereas Frostleaf was distinct with her stark-white pelt.

"Heathercloud has kitted," Frostleaf announced sharply. Those words coming from her felt very strange. He felt like he should have already known this. He'd always thought that there was some odd connect with him and his mate that he'd know when something was hurting her. But obviously that was a false belief. He had sensed nothing.

The unkind medicine cat started heading out of ThistleClan camp. She cast a glance over her shoulder, beckoning him with her tail. Hollowstep stayed a few steps behind her, even though he knew the way better than she would.

Together, in the kind of silence that felt purposeful, they headed off to the RoseClan camp. The breeze carried the distinct scent of a certain she-cat... Immediately, Hollowstep knew that Shadowfoot's daughter was following. He refused to call her out on it, though, knowing fair well that Frostleaf would be suspicious of a she-cat in ThistleClan. If Frostleaf found out and complained to Thornstar about it, StarClan knew Shadowfoot would be angrier than a nest of agitated hornets.

Hollowstep knew they passed the border when the thick scent of roses and wildflowers hit him so fast he sneezed. As they trekked through the extremely unfamiliar forest of RoseClan, Hollowstep wondered if Cloud was still following. He hoped she wasn't. He didn't quite trust all of these she-cats. Crowshade once said that too many she-cats together are never a good thing.

As soon as Hollowstep set a paw through the gorse tunnel, everything in RoseClan camp came to a slamming halt. It was as if time had frozen – and their gazes, too. Every pair of eyes he met was filled with coldness. He hadn't been here since he was a kit, and even so, his memories were vague. The only thing he could pinpoint from memory alone would be the nursery. He remembered his mother, Fawnspots, and his sister, Daisykit, who had died from greencough. All the other faces were strangers. During Gatherings, only if a tom was lucky could he glimpse a she-cat under the moonlight.

Frostleaf cleared her throat, causing all the she-cats to look away nervously. Hollowstep's heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest. He hadn't ever been around this many she-cats. His eyes wanted to trace over every feature of them, from their fur to their eyes, to the way they studied him in return. But he couldn't just stand their gawking. He needed to see Heathercloud.

"I... I... Where is Heathercloud?" Hollowstep asked. He already knew the answer, but he felt the need to break the ice. It didn't work. Now every she-cat was looking at him as if he were stupid. But they didn't know what it was like to return to a camp you haven't lived in since kithood.

"She's in here!" a she-cat's high voice called lightly from the bramble den, which he knew was the nursery. Hollowstep glanced at Frostleaf, looking for further instruction, but she offered none. She stalked off into her own den that that a lichen hanging over the entrance. Feeling very alone, he headed into the nursery. He could practically feel each of the she-cats holding their breath as he entered their most sacred den.

Hollowstep hadn't known what to expect.

Heathercloud looked flat-out exhausted in her nest as four kits snuggled next to her belly. She hardly looked up at his presence. The four kits were beautiful – one of them even resembled him: it was a light brown tabby. The others were a light gray tabby kit, a small cream-colored kit, and a gray kit. The cream-colored kit reminded him faintly of his sister.

"Have you named them?" he asked softly, recalling what Littlefeather had told him. Let them pick out the names. Be gentle. Don't forget that your sons are under their care for the next six moons. Don't get attached to the daughters.

His mate sighed deeply. "There are three toms: Shrewkit," – she nosed the light brown tabby – "Smallkit," – the cream-colored kit – "and Stormkit." The other one was the gray kit.

"What about her?" Hollowstep whispered, gazing at his daughter with a sad admiration. He would never know her, not truly, but she would still grow in grace. One day, she would probably become a mother herself. Don't get attatched to the daughters, Littlefeather's words rang in his ears. Hollowstep snapped his gaze back up to Heathercloud's. Her gloomy yellow eyes did nothing to brighten his mood.

Heathercloud gave the she-kit's head a lick. "Her name is Sweetkit." With her voice barely a whisper, she added, "You will never take her from me."