Whitekit, Brightheart and Cloudtail’s daughter, was looking down at the two kits with as much pride as if they were her own. She was nearly old enough to be apprenticed, and Firestar knew how protective she felt about the new arrivals.
Brightheart roused from her nest and stretched out a paw.
“Be careful,” she warned her kit. “Don’t get too close. They won’t be ready to play for a while yet.”
As Firestar entered, Sandstorm drowsily raised her head.
“I thought of some names,” she murmured. “How do you like Squirrelkit and Leafkit?”
“I think they’re wonderful names,” Firestar replied. The dark ginger Squirrelkit for her fluffy tail, of course, and tabby
Leafkit in memory of Leafstar—and perhaps of Spottedleaf too.
Pride surged through him as he looked at the tiny scraps of fur. He had so many hopes for them: good hunting, happi-ness, perhaps even leadership of their Clan. Though he had been a kittypet, his daughters were Clanborn through and through. His blood would run through ThunderClan for many seasons to come, even when he no longer walked the forest.
The thought of blood and kinship made Skywatcher’s prophecy echo in his ears once more: There will be three, kin of your kin, who hold the power of the stars in their paws.
Would these powerful cats be descended from Firestar’s two precious daughters? Was the prophecy a warning of great good—or great evil? A chill ran through him, and he shivered as he wondered where the path of his blood would lead.
Acknowledgments
Special thanks to Cherith Baldry