“She’s recovering,” Squirrelflight told her.
“Good.” Daisy purred. “I expect these two will want to see their real mother soon.” She nuzzled the kits fondly. “Sorrelstripe’s been suckling them along with her own. It’s exhausting for her, so I’ve been keeping them with me when they’re not feeding.” She unfolded her paws. The kits mewled indignantly as she revealed them to the chilly night air. Squirrelflight hurried across the den and nuzzled them. They reached instinctively for her. The smell of them filled her heart, and as they fidgeted blindly, pawing at her nose, she knew with a jolt that she wasn’t expecting a litter of her own after all. It had never been more than desperate hope, and tiredness caused by worry. She’d been foolish to believe she was carrying Bramblestar’s kits. Squirrelflight nuzzled the kits harder, purring, as longing hollowed her belly. If Sparkpelt didn’t want these kits, she would take care of them as if they were her own.
Tiny claws scraped her cheek as the tortoiseshell she-kit rolled away and began pummeling Daisy’s belly. The black tom-kit wriggled after his sister, pressing his face into Daisy’s soft belly fur.
Daisy curled her paws around them once more. “They need names.” She hugged them gently.
Meadowkit. Gladekit. Bluekit. Names flashed in her mind, names she’d planned when she’d been dreaming of new kits of her own. She pushed them away and blinked at Daisy. “Sparkpelt should name them.”
Daisy reached toward the moss piled in a soggy heap at the side of the bracken. She hooked a piece and offered it to the kits. Mewling, they lapped at it and began to suckle, each tugging at a corner. “This keeps them quiet while Sorrelstripe rests.”
Squirrelflight was impressed by how quickly they’d adapted to such strange nursing. “They’re going to be great warriors, just like Sparkpelt and Larksong.”
“Of course.” Daisy’s eyes shone in the half-light.
“I’ll see if Sparkpelt is ready to come and see them.” Squirrelflight headed for the den entrance. She slid out and saw her Clanmates gathering around Larksong and the kit. Graystripe and Millie stood in the shadow of the elders’ den. Thriftpaw, Bristlepaw, and Flippaw sat between Ivypool and Fernsong while their Clanmates ringed the clearing.
Bramblestar was heading toward the nursery. “I was just coming to fetch you.”
“What about Sparkpelt?” Squirrelflight scanned her Clanmates.
“She’s here.” Bramblestar nodded toward a shadowy figure padding across the clearing.
Sparkpelt’s green eyes glittered in the darkness as she reached Larksong’s body. She lowered her head and pressed her muzzle against his lifeless cheek. Then she sat beside him and lifted her chin, as though bracing herself for a long night. An owl hooted above the camp.
Squirrelflight moved closer to Bramblestar. “Is she fit enough to sit vigil?”
“If she weren’t, Leafpool wouldn’t have let her come,” Bramblestar whispered.
“What about the kits?” Squirrelflight glanced at the nursery. “She’s hardly seen them.”
“Let her mourn Larksong first.” Bramblestar’s eyes glistened as he gazed at his daughter. “She has moons to spend with her kits.”
Lilyheart padded from between Honeyfur and Leafshade. She touched her nose to Larksong’s shoulder. “Snowbush won’t be lonely anymore.” The small tabby lifted her head, her eyes clouded with grief. Honeyfur and Leafshade huddled beside her. Sparkpelt glanced at them, as though acknowledging their grief, then looked away.
Twigbranch padded from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. She stopped beside Lilyheart. “Larksong was lucky to have a mother like you,” she mewed. “As a kit, I lost my own mother. I moved from one camp to another, lost and gained a sister and a father. Throughout it all, you were there for me, and Larksong was like a littermate.” She dropped her gaze shyly. “I will miss him like a brother.”
Lilyheart blinked gratefully at the young warrior as Twigbranch took her place beside Honeyfur and Leafshade.
Finleap hurried forward. “Larksong was a great mentor.” He glanced around at his Clanmates. “It’s not fair he died of sickness and not in battle. But I promise to become the best warrior I can be in honor of his memory.” He backed away, pelt prickling self-consciously, and took his place again beside Plumstone and Eaglewing.
Bramblestar padded forward, stopping in a pool of moonlight. “ThunderClan has lost two brave warriors, for I know Larksong’s kit would have followed in his father’s paw steps. Larksong was always kind to his Clanmates and loyal to his Clan. May StarClan welcome him with open hearts. He can never be a father to his kits here, but his memory will live on in them and in the hearts of the cats he’s left behind.” Squirrelflight’s heart flooded with grief as Bramblestar blinked affectionately at Sparkpelt. “We will miss him and the kit we never had the chance to know.”
Squirrelflight fluffed her fur out against the wind. There was a chill in the air, and the heavy dew brought by the dawn hadn’t yet lifted. She sat near the fresh-kill pile, eyeing the medicine den anxiously. Sparkpelt had returned there to sleep after her long night’s vigil beside Larksong’s body. She still hadn’t been to the nursery to see her kits. As Squirrelflight wondered whether to wake her, the thorn tunnel shivered and Berrynose padded into camp. Plumstone, Mousewhisker, and Lionblaze trailed after him.
The patrol was clearly in the middle of a heated conversation. Mousewhisker stopped at the edge of the clearing, his gaze dark. “I’m just saying that all this trouble started when the Sisters showed up.”
“It’s a coincidence.” Lionblaze sat down and began to wash the mud from his paws.
“It’s no coincidence that they’re taking up land meant for SkyClan,” Plumstone pointed out.
“And it’s strange that a poisonous plant we’ve never heard of shows up in the forest at the same time as the Sisters.” Berrynose lay down outside the warriors’ den.
Squirrelflight glared at him. “The Sisters didn’t cause the sickness. They’re the ones who told us what it was, and how to cure it.”
“They didn’t tell us what this meadow saffron looks like. There are plenty of different plants with purple flowers,” Berrynose answered. “How are we meant to find it and dig it up if we don’t know what it looks like?”
“I didn’t give them the chance to tell us.” Squirrelflight felt like she was always defending the Sisters. “I wanted to get back so Leafpool could treat Larksong and Sparkpelt.” She looked up at the Highledge, where Bramblestar was pulling apart a thrush. Tell them to stop. This isn’t the Sisters’ fault. Didn’t they realize that the Sisters had probably saved Sparkpelt’s life?
Bramblestar stopped eating when she caught his eye. He got to his paws and slithered down the rock tumble. Squirrelflight felt a prick of guilt. She shouldn’t draw him into this. He looked tired. He’d sat vigil with Sparkpelt all night and been the first to help dig the hole where Larksong and his kit would be buried. He swiped his tongue around his mouth, wiping it clean. “It would be helpful to know what plants we need to dig up.”
“I could visit them again and find out,” Squirrelflight offered.
Berrynose grunted. “What you need to find out is when they’re leaving.”
“Why?” Squirrelflight flicked her tail irritably. “SkyClan hasn’t even decided whether to move yet.”
Mousewhisker sat down. “Perhaps Leafstar doesn’t want to make a decision that might mean the Sisters have to move. She might be as fond of them as you are.” He gazed accusingly at Squirrelflight.
“I’m not fond of them,” she shot back. “I just happen to respect their way of life.”
Bramblestar shifted his paws. “You used to respect our way of life,” he grunted.
She looked at him, surprised. She’d thought they’d settled their differences. Was he still angry with her? “I still do!”