Brambleberry nudged Crookedstar forward. “She’s very tired,” she warned.
Willowbreeze coughed.
“She’ll feel better after a long sleep,” Fallowtail murmured. “Why don’t you welcome your kits to the Clan, Crookedstar?”
Crookedstar dragged his gaze from Willowbreeze to the three tiny, damp bundles lying at her belly. They looked perfect. He leaned into the nest and sniffed them one at a time. The biggest was dark gray, the middle-sized one almost black, and the smallest a silver-gray tabby just like her mother.
Crookedstar’s heart ached with love for them. He pressed his muzzle against Willowbreeze’s cheek. It felt warm.
“They’re beautiful,” he whispered.
“I know,” she rasped.
Pride swelled in him, blossoming like a flower.
Brambleberry leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “You should let her rest.” Gently she ushered him toward the entrance. Crookedstar felt a wave of gratitude toward the medicine cat. She had delivered the most beautiful kits in all the Clans. And thank you, StarClan, for forgiving me. Nothing could compare with the blessing of Willowbreeze and their daughters.
Crookedstar woke early. The sun had just broken the horizon as he padded out of his den and crossed the clearing, yawning. Quiet as a fish, he slid into the nursery and peeked into Willowbreeze’s nest. She was asleep with the three kits curled peacefully beside her. Crookedstar guessed she’d be hungry when she woke. He slipped into the clearing and headed out of camp. He’d caught a fat carp by the time the rest of the Clan was stirring.
“Is that for Willowbreeze?” Oakheart called from his den as Crookedstar pushed through the reeds with the carp dangling from his jaws. Crookedstar nodded, slowing as he saw Mudfur standing outside the nursery. He dropped the fish at the medicine cat apprentice’s paws. “Is everything okay?” he asked. There was something about Mudfur’s expression that made the pelt rise along his spine.
“You can’t go in,” Mudfur told him softly.
Crookedstar bristled. “What do you mean I can’t go in?” He heard Willowbreeze coughing inside. The kits were mewling.
“They’re hungry!” Crookedstar protested. “And Willowbreeze will be starving. I’m taking this fish in.” As he leaned down to pick it up, Mudfur moved in front of the entrance.
Crookedstar glared at him, fear rising in his belly. He spat out the fish. “Let me in!”
Mudfur met Crookedstar’s gaze steadily. “Brambleberry says she mustn’t be disturbed.” He glanced over his shoulder. “By anyone.”
“Is Brambleberry in there?” Crookedstar’s heart was racing. “What’s wrong? Why can’t I see Willowbreeze?”
“She’s a little sick,” Mudfur explained. “But the kits are fine, and I’m keeping a close eye on them.”
Crookedstar growled. “Let me in!” He tried to push past Mudfur, but Mudfur pushed back. He’d lost none of his warrior strength.
Brambleberry slid out of the den. “I thought I heard you,” she meowed cheerfully. “Nothing to worry about. Willowbreeze just has a little cough and I don’t want the infection spreading. You’ll have to stay outside till I tell you it’s okay to go in.”
Crookedstar couldn’t believe his ears. He was the leader of these cats, for StarClan’s sake! “How come you’re allowed in? And Mudfur! It’s not fair!” He was arguing like a scared kit. “Even Sunfish is in there.”
“Sunfish has moved to the elders’ den.” Brambleberry tipped her head on one side. “And if we were going to catch it, we’d have caught it by now.”
“But I was in there yesterday and I didn’t catch it!” Crookedstar argued.
“You were only there a few moments.” Brambleberry held his gaze. “It’s really better if you stay outside. You’re our leader. We can’t risk you getting sick, too.”
Crookedstar opened his mouth. There was nothing to say. The Clan needed him. But Willowbreeze needed him, too!
“Get better quickly!” he called through the wall of the nursery. “I love you! And our daughters!”
Chapter 39
Crookedstar jumped to his paws as Brambleberry slid out of the nursery. “Should I fetch more honey?” he offered.
“No.” Brambleberry’s eyes were dull and the end of her tail trailed on the ground.
A soft drizzle soaked the camp. In the days since her kitting, Willowbreeze’s cough had grown steadily worse. Two of the kits had begun coughing, too. Brambleberry had kept Crookedstar out of the nursery but he stayed close, pacing the clearing, one moment praying to StarClan, cursing them the next. All the hope, courage, trust, and patience bestowed on him by his ancestors meant nothing to him now. Where was their loyalty to him? How could they let him suffer like this? Make them well! Please make them well!
“Crookedstar.” Brambleberry’s mew jerked him back to the present. “She has greencough.”
“Then I’ll fetch some catmint!” Crookedstar headed for the reeds.
“I’ve given her catmint already.” Brambleberry called him back. “It’s not working.”
The nursery shook as Willowbreeze burst into another hacking fit. Tiny coughs spluttered alongside hers. Crookedstar flattened his ears. “What can I do?”
“You can go in and see her.” Brambleberry stepped aside. “She wants to name the kits.”
Why now? Crookedstar stared into the shadowy den, his paws suddenly rooted to the ground.
“Go on,” Brambleberry prompted.
Crookedstar steadied his breath and climbed inside. The nursery was dark, the air sour and stuffy. He blinked, letting his eyes adjust to the half-light.
“Willowbreeze?”
She was curled in her nest, their three kits huddled against her belly. She lifted her head as Crookedstar called her name. “You came.”
He crouched beside the nest, brushing her cheek with his muzzle. “Brambleberry wouldn’t let me in before now. But I’ve been outside all the time.”
“Has it been long?” Willowbreeze’s eyes were streaming. Her muzzle was damp. She coughed weakly, making her whole body shudder.
“No,” Crookedstar whispered. “Not long.”
Willowbreeze gazed into his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He tipped his head on one side. “Why?”
“For leaving you to raise our daughters.”
“You’re not going anywhere!” Crookedstar pressed his cheek hard against hers. “I won’t let you leave me.”
“You’ll be a wonderful father.” A purr rumbled in her throat, making her cough again. This time she struggled to get her breath. “I’m so happy Hailstar brought me back from WindClan. I’ve loved being with you and with RiverClan.”
“Don’t talk like that!” Crookedstar fought to keep the panic from his mew. The kits were lifting their heads, turning their muzzles toward him, straining to open their eyes. “You can’t leave the kits. They need you.” I need you.
“Oh, my precious love.” Willowbreeze brushed her muzzle along his twisted jaw. “Be brave for me, please.”
“You’re going to be fine!”
“Help me name our daughters.”
Numbness crept beneath Crookedstar’s pelt, deadening his heart, slowing his thoughts. Willowbreeze was right. Their daughters needed names. He reached a paw into the nest and touched the darkest gray kit. “Minnowkit,” he murmured. He already knew what it would be. He’d planned their names days ago as he paced the clearing.
“Minnowkit,” Willowbreeze echoed with a wheeze.
“And Willowkit.” Crookedstar stroked the smoky black kit. “I want her to have your name.”
Willowkit mewled and caught hold of his paw, churning her hind legs against his pad. Purring, he shook her off gently and touched the palest of the three.