"Ow! My paw!" Mousekit squealed, drawing back his tiny white paw from his brother's mouth. He grumbled as he licked it gingerly, "You don't have to bite so hard."
Featherkit, his shoulders already broad despite his young age, snorted. "Well. You shouldn't have been sticking it in my face."
Stormheart lay watching her kits silently. Not long after they had moved back into the hollow, she had given birth to three healthy kits. The first born was her only daughter, Cherrykit. However, she was smaller than her second born brother, Featherkit, and much larger than tiny Mousekit. They had been named after three cats that meant a lot to her, as few cats knew, but she was content.
Cherrykit, a ginger dappled she-kit, lay asleep splayed on Stormheart's paw. Her mother glanced down at her kit. A stab of pain dug into her heart when she saw the resemblance between the kitten and her grandmother.
But the past is in the past. Stormheart saw out of the corner of her eye Foxflower and Nettlestar approaching her.
"Such beautiful kits." Foxflower remarked generously.
Stormheart snapped back into attention. She turned to her sister and smiled, "Thank you."
When Nettlestar approached their kits, Featherkit and Mousekit both turned to him and squealed. Mousekit made a valiant effort to smooth his kit fluff grey and white tabby fur, but it still stuck up in tufts. Featherkit's dark brown tabby pelt was always sleek.
"Nettlestar!" Featherkit barreled into the grey tabby's side. His father pretended to be defeated as he tumbled to the ground.
"Oh no! You have defeated me!" Nettlestar pretended to choke. Featherkit's white muzzle nipped at his father's paws, his eyes screwed up with effort.
"Featherkit, act mature." Mousekit sighed.
The dark brown tom snorted, "No way."
Nettlestar shook his larger son off his chest, making him tumble to the ground with a squeak. The grey tabby lashed his tail, "Would you two like to see the leader's den?"
"Yes!" The two tom kits squealed in unison, tumbling after their father as they bounded to the edge of camp.
Stormheart rumbled as she watched them leave. That was until Foxflower stood in front of her and dropped herbs at her paws.
"What's this?" The queen flicked her ears.
Foxflower's yellow eyes glinted, "Borage. It's to make sure your milk will still come even when the prey is scarce." She glanced at the pitifully tiny fresh-kill pile and scoffed, "You think those new warriors, Duskfur, Pearlnight and Boulderpelt would hunt more."
The three new warriors sat sharing tongues in the shade of an alder plant. Quickstream, still angry over the leadership vote, cast a bitter glare at Stormheart, making the queen flinch.
Foxflower sighed, "Trouble lies with them. Along as with the cats we thought were dead."
Stormheart froze. She narrowed her eyes, drawing Cherrykit closer to her. "What."
"Flamestar and Gorsepelt came to me in a dream." The scarred tortishell seemed shaken. "His face was...destroyed. Half of his fur was burned away along with a leg missing. His death must have truly been awful."
It was. Stormheart shivered, picturing Flamestar's face as he plummeted into the flames, screaming.
"Look, my point is that Flamestar is far from dead." Foxflower mewed solemnly. "He is not gone, and he wants your kits."
StarClan not them. Stormheart glanced at Nettlestar helping Mousekit climb. She wrinkled her nose, "I will not let him lay a claw on my kits."
"Watch them." The medicine cat pointed out. "Care for them. The war is not over Stormheart. It won't be until he is truly gone."
Stormheart looked up at her sister as she padded away. Thistlethorn had decided to become a warrior due to the shortage of them, Nettlestar approved because of her fierce personality. This left Foxflower as MountainClan's only medicine cat. She looked down at her damaged paw, the claws broken and snapped.
I'm coming.
Ay yo this is the end. A sequel is possible, thanks for the votes, I'm gonna work on other stuff now, have a nice night Wattpad.