Chapter 1: Unexpected Changes
"I'm retiring to the elder's den." The black and white tom told her quietly as he groomed her.
Goldenflower licked his shoulder, smoothing down his fur as she thought on what she wanted to say. "I thought we agreed to retire to the elder's den together." She lifted her green eyes to his amber ones. They had been mates through many seasons and he was her constant in all things.
"I'm tired, Goldenflower." Patchpelt flicked his long, plumed tail anxiously.
"I'm not," Goldenflower countered honestly, studying him. She couldn't understand where this was coming from.
"Really look at me." Patchpelt's command hid a hint of a frustrated snarl.
The ginger queen blinked in confusion. Her ears flattened.
"I'm sorry," Patchpelt sighed, pressing his forehead to hers in an apology. "I'm old, Goldenflower. I was a warrior when you were young. And my scars hurt more with every passing Leafbare."
She looked at him. "I've only ever seen you for who you are, Patchpelt."
Now that he said it, she could see the white on his muzzle, flecks compared to the white patches on his body. There were shadows in his amber eyes. And, she recalled, when he walked, there was a limp to his step, an old wound from a vicious battle with RiverClan that never healed right. Time was carving its mark on the tom.
"Do you see it now?"
She nodded and looked away, resting her head on her paws. She felt the weight of Patchpelt's head settle down on her shoulders. Guilt roiled within her. He was still the sweet, calm, patient tom that she had fallen in love with as a young warrior. At the same time, she did not want to be tied to an elder in the elder's den. She had seasons left to serve her clan, seasons which could be her own. And they never had kits, for some reason. StarClan had kept that blessing from them.
Patchpelt nudged her, but she didn't turn to look at him. "What are you thinking?"
"Honestly?" Her stomach twisted.
"Honestly."
"I don't want to be mates if you retire to the elder's den."
The silence between them was heavy, neither cat wanting to be the first to break it. Goldenflower stayed where she was, chin on her paws, studying the ground. It was Goldenflower who spoke first.
"I'm sorry. I know it's selfish and narrow-minded of me, but I've got seasons left before me. I want a mate who can match me." Her claws sank into the earth as she spoke.
"I know."' Patchpelt's meow was even and calm.
She blinked in surprise and lifted her head. Twisting to look at him, she saw the assurance in his gaze. He blinked slowly at her and continued. "I don't think I've ever been a mate that matches you. One way or another our paths were always going to diverge."
Goldenflower flicked her ear nervously. She had been afraid of his response and now that it wasn't what she expected, she was unsure how she should feel. She wanted to be happy, but sadness tugged at her. It had always been her and Patchpelt.
"We can still be friends," he promised.
He was too good to her, anticipating her worries. "I would like that." Her purr was weak.
"So would I."
"When are you going to tell Bluestar?"
Patchpelt rose to his feet. The clan leader was sunning herself beneath Highrock, her blue-gray pelt shimmering in the sunlight. "Now."
"Do you want me to come with you?" she offered.
Patchpelt shook his head. "We're not mates anymore," he reminded her. She flinched at his words. "This is something I need to do alone."
"I understand." Goldenflower was suddenly aware of the border that she had put between them. She was a selfish, narrow-minded she-cat. This was her fault. Saying nothing, she watched her former mate walk away, his pawsteps heavy.
—
"Goldenflower."
She started at the sound of her name. The fur on her shoulders laid flat at the soft purr of amusement from Brindleface and the stifled chuckle of Frostfur.
Brindleface's green eyes with soft with sympathy. "Do you want to go hunting with us?"
"What about Dustkit and Ravenkit?" she asked, rising to her paws.
Brindleface exchanged a glance with Frostfur. The white queen shrugged. "Our brothers will be fine on their own," Brindleface meowed.
"Willowpelt promised to keep an eye on them. Keep them from fighting too much." Frostfur's lip curled in disdain as she spoke.
"You mean keep Dustkit from picking on Ravenkit," Goldenflower amended Frostfur's statement for her as they slipped through the bramble barrier to the camp.
"They'll learn to get along one of these days," Frostfur meowed, leaping up to the top of the ravine. Looking down at Goldenflower, she continued, "And if not, that's not my problem."
Goldenflower's fur prickled. Frostfur always seemed a bit distant from her brothers, especially since she and Brindleface were sharing the task of raising them after Fuzzyfur and Robinwing succumbed to green-cough early in leaf-fall. Where Brindleface was all softness and encouragement, Frostfur was hard edges and discipline.
"Where should we go?" Brindleface mewed, stepping between Goldenflower and Frostfur. "Over by the WindClan border? Or the tree-cut place?"
"Tree-cut place," Frostfur mewed decisively, striding off. Goldenflower stuck out her tongue at the bossy she-cat, but followed without a protest. Brindleface let out a purr of amusement and nudge Goldenflower's shoulder.
"Relax," the brindled gray she-cat advised her. "Just enjoy the hunt."
A mouse and an escaped squirrel later, Brindleface paused on the border of the tree-cut place, looking at the two-leg nests. Goldenflower set her thrush down by her paws and followed Brindleface's gaze. She was watching a flame-colored tom kit nimbly chase another kit, a black and white tom, across the fence tops.
"We used to be that young once," she murmured.
"We're not that old." Goldenflower studied her friend anxiously. "What's on your mind? Are things not going well with Whitestorm?"
Brindleface shook her head. "Things are fine with Whitestorm. What's between us is nothing serious." Her green gaze met Goldenflower's eyes before resting on her flank. "I'm thinking about you. About the kits you are going to have."
"Don't be silly," Goldenflower chastised her friend. "Patchpelt and I always wanted kits, but StarClan has never blessed us with any."
"Until now." Brindleface's gaze was so earnest it made Goldenflower's fur prickle with unease.
"How would you know, you haven't had kits!" Why was she feeling so defensive?
"Willowpelt mentioned something to me," Brindleface said quietly.
"We should go find Frostfur," Goldenflower meowed uncomfortably, cutting her friend off. She bounded into the forest, leaving her thrush behind.
Her paws did not carry her towards Frostfur, but rather towards Spottedleaf's den. The pretty young tortoiseshell she-cat was sorting herbs. She looked up when Goldenflower scuffed the floor of the den, not wanting to scare the medicine cat.
"Is everything okay?" Spottedleaf straightened the pile of leaves before her and rose to her paws. "Did something happen?"
"How can a she-cat know if she's expecting kits?" Goldenflower blurted. She knew she-cats got plump and heavy, but she didn't feel plump and heavy. "Is there anything else besides getting fat?"
Spottedleaf's whiskers twitched with amusement. "There is more to expecting kits than gaining a bit of weight," she reassured Goldenflower. "Some queens get rather nauseous and will throw up more than just hairballs."
Goldenflower thought back to the mouse that didn't sit well with her the other day. Nor the sparrow. Or some of the rabbits that she shared with her friends.
"Is it just a one off thing?"
Spottedleaf shrugged. "It depends on the queen. Have you been experiencing some nausea?"
Goldenflower's ear twitched. "I thought it was just a bad mouse that lingered."
"It could be that too," Spottedleaf agreed. "What about mood swings? Have you been really happy one moment and really irritated the next?"
"I think Frostfur would say I'm always like that."
"I'm not asking Frostfur's opinion. I'm asking yours."
"I've been feeling not myself since Patchpelt moved to the elder's den," Goldenflower confessed. "Unbalanced almost."
Spottedleaf nodded. "That's understandable. Do you mind if I examine your belly?"
Goldenflower shook her head. "Do you want me to stay standing?" When Spottedleaf indicated for her to lay down, Goldenflower followed the medicine cat's prompts. Spottedleaf's paws were firm as they pressed on her belly. The she-cat amber eyes were unreadable.
"Well?" Goldenflower prompted the she-cat, sitting up. She was nervous to hear what Spottedleaf had to say.
"I would say you are expecting kits," the medicine cat mewed.
Brindleface was right! Goldenflower was astonished by the delight that ran through her. Kits! she thought. "I can't believe it," she murmured out loud. "All those seasons."
"Congratulations," Spottedleaf purred.
"What do I do now?" Goldenflower pleaded.
"Take it one step at a time." Spottedleaf touched her tail to her shoulder. "And I have some leaves that will help when your kits come, in about a moon or so."
"A moon?"
