“I can explain.” Yellowleaf started. She was interrupted by a swish of Ivystar’s tail.
“No need, Yellowleaf,” she meowed. As she sat herself down onto the padded earth, Warmkit felt scared. Scared that he might lose his place in the Clan. Scared for what might happen to him if he did. Scared of losing his friends.
Ivystar’s gaze rested on him, and he felt his fur stand on end. Her expression was unreadable; a cold look that betrayed nothing. Somehow, it terrified him than if she had looked angry. What’s she thinking? He looked down at his paws, fidgeting.
Maplebranch stepped forward. “Ivystar, this kit has b—“
“I know,” she interrupted, “I’ve heard you talk earlier.” Her voice was as threateningly calm as Warmkit had ever heard. “Now,” she shifted to face the two warriors, “excuse me as I talk to this kit.”
Maplebranch, Goldenfur and Yellowleaf stared blankly at her. “Alone.” Ivystar added forcefully.
Yellowleaf left, followed by Maplebranch. Goldenfur left last, flashing Warmkit a harsh glare before turning to exit the den.
Warmkit kept his eyes fixed on his paws, and for a long while, it was silent in the leader’s den.
“It’s okay.” Ivystar finally broke the silence. “I know everything that happened.”
Warmkit lifted his head to look at her, and was surprised to see that she showed no signs of anger, not even annoyance. Not a trace. In fact, her eyes showed things he had never seen before. Emotions like warmth.
“R-Really?” he mewed shakily.
“Archkit tackled Sandkit all of a sudden after they ate their meal. They tussled around and got some dirt onto the vole you and Twigkit shared.” She laid her tail on Warmkit. “So it’s technically Archkit’s fault. It wasn’t you.”
“Oh. Okay.” Warmkit breathed out, relieved. I’m not going to leave the Clan!
“And besides,” Ivystar continued, “I can’t exile kits.”
She raised her head, seemingly lost in thought. “I’ll probably give Archkit a day of apprentice duties,” she said, nodding slightly, “That should keep her busy for a while. You know, teach her to be a little more careful with things. She’s three moons old now. She should be pretty capable of handling stuff on her own.”
She stiffened suddenly, her eyes widening. “Three moons old,” she repeated.
Ivystar turned back to Warmkit. “Okay. You may leave. Everything’s fine.” The black and white kit didn’t move. “Go along now.” She nudged him, and he scooted out of the den and out into the sunny clearing.
Warmkit stared up at the blue sky overhead, then back to the leader’s den. “Well, that didn’t take very long at all,” he muttered to himself.
“Oh, and Warmkit,” Ivystar called from inside, “Tell Twigkit and Sandkit to get ready for tomorrow. You too. Ask Yellowleaf to groom the three of you.”
Warmkit nodded. “Sure thing!” he mewed back.
He breathed a long sigh of relief. It was over!
Approaching the nursery, he slowed down and padded lightly inside. He could hear them sleeping. There, sleeping in their moss nests were Moondrop, asleep with Archkit, and Twigkit and Sandkit, asleep next to Yellowleaf.
Yellowleaf was still wide awake with eyes warm as she beckoned him over with a flick of her tail. Warmkit walked over to her and settled in her paws, as he always had. He pressed his head against her chest.
Goldenfur had called him a half-Clan mistake. Something that wasn’t supposed to happen. But it wasn’t that that bothered Warmkit’s young mind. If I’m half-Clan, he thought, Hawkeye might not be my father or Yellowleaf might not be my mother. He swallowed. Or both.
“Yellowleaf…” he choked out. After today, he was so confused. Everything that he believed was true might turn out to be lies. All lies.
Yellowleaf licked him between the ears, long loving strokes of her tongue calming Warmkit a little. “Yes, my lovely kit?” she asked, although she already knew what he was going to ask next.
“I…” He gulped and exhaled shakily. “A-am not y-yours, am I? Hawkeye…”—he remembered the dark tom he admired—“he’s not my father, a-and...you’re not my mother.”
Yellowleaf’s breath caught in her chest. She hesitated to reply. “No, I wasn’t,” was her anguished mew, barely audible.
“Then you don’t love me!” Warmkit cried. He was silenced by his mother’s furry tail. She pulled him closer, her head next to his.
“Never.” Her voice was firm and quiet in the calm nursery. It was confident, yet Warmkit could feel the pain and sorrow radiating off her. “Warmkit, I…” She leaned into his ear, and continued in a whisper.
“You may not have been mine or Hawkeye’s, but I believe that I couldn’t have loved you any better than if I was your real mother.”
Warmkit pressed himself more strongly against her fur, and he could feel her erratic heartbeat. He remembered all the times with Yellowleaf, and how she was always there to protect and care for him. There was no doubt. He licked her paw. “I know. I know you love me.”
Another lick was planted between his ears. “Always know,” Yellowleaf whispered, before the gentle strokes of her tongue lulled him to sleep. Like it always had been.
When Warmkit finally woke up, there was an orange glow shining in his face. It was sundown.One of my favorite times of the day!
He licked his shoulder fur before bounding out, the events of just a few hours ago seemingly forgotten. The outside was bright, and it took Warmkit a while to adjust to the sudden change of lighting. Once he did, he realized that the camp was full of activity.
Cloudcover was summoning Deerpaw from his place next to the fresh-kill pile; probably to ask him to gather herbs. But why is she asking him to look at sundown? Warmkit wondered. It would be night soon, and it would get a lot harder to see herbs in the dark.
Close by, patrols were being ordered out by Redstep, the Clan deputy, who had four cats gathered around her. In fact, they were close enough that he could hear them.
“Maplebranch, you lead the sundown patrol. Take Blazetail, Frostheart and Thornpaw with you.”
The fawn tabby nodded and strutted out the camp, followed by the two warriors and the apprentice. As he left, Warmkit caught Maplebranch’s eyes on him. It had some kind of emotion in it, but it was too fast for him to catch what it was.
Redstep sighed. “Not enough warriors,” she muttered, walking off. Warmkit blinked, thinking about what she said. It was true. ThunderClan as of now had only eight warriors and five apprentices, one being the medicine cat’s. Compared to the other Clans, that was a small number indeed.
Maybe that’s why she wanted Archkit on apprentice duty, he realized.
He turned to return to the nursery, and found himself face to face with a large ginger face. Goldenfur! The large warrior stared him down as he slinked backwards, not refusing to turn away from the piercing glare. It felt like fire on Warmkit’s pelt.
Goldenfur eyed him like prey he was going to catch and eat. He took a step forward. “I tend to keep my promises, Warmkit.” He smiled deviously. “When I say you will never become a warrior, I mean it.”
He started forward, and Warmkit skittered away to avoid the claws aimed at his head as he passed him to get inside the warriors’ den. He took refuge behind a patch of bracken, breathing heavily. What does he want with me?!