"Here they are!" Gingerpelt mewed, pushing her mewling kits closer to her belly.
"They're perfect!" Flametail purred. "What're their names?"
"Well... The gray-and-white she-kit will be Petalkit, the light brown tabby tom will be Birchkit and..." Gingerpelt's gaze swept along her precious kits as she named them but she stopped as soon as she saw the last kit. "The golden tom will be Sunkit." She finished, crying.
Gingerpelt turned her gaze to Mothwing. "Why isn't he moving?" She cried.
"He was born dead." Mothwing meowed quietly.
Immediately Flametail screamed with rage and grief. "WHAT? NO! HE CAN'T BE DEAD! HE WAS ONLY A KIT!" Flametail ran over to him and started licking him vigorously.
"Flametail." Mothwing meowed calmly. "He was born dead. There's nothing any cat can do for him."
Flametail's tail drooped and he started to pad away.
"Flametail! We still have two perfectly healthy kits left!" Gingerpelt reminded him, between tears.
Flametail's ears pricked and he ran back to his remaining kits. "They couldn't be better! They're absolutely perfect! The good thing is they can't starve or freeze to death in newleaf!" He paused at his own words, obviously remembering his sister who went outside too early after birth in leaf-bare and froze to death.
Mothwing rested her tail affectionately on his shoulder. "Yes. They're completely safe and healthy. Now, why don't you tell the clan the great news?" She meowed softly.
"Right." Flametail meowed. Before he left he went over to Gingerpelt and took another look at his beautiful kits. "Raised by the deputy and their wonderful, loving and beautiful mother, our kits will be the best warriors this clan has ever seen." He whispered softly in her ear then padded through the nursery entrance to spread the good news.