Эрин Хантер - Sunrise

Jayfeather stifled a sigh. He would far rather have crept into his nest to dry off his pelt and sleep. Instead he headed for the nursery, brushing past Birchfall, who was tearing up grass in his anxiety.

Inside, Daisy and Millie had drawn their own kits into their nests to give Whitewing and Leafpool space. The young white she-cat was lying on one side, her breath coming fast and shallow.

“You’re doing fine,” Leafpool reassured her. “And so are your kits. They’ll be born before you know it.”

“I hope so,” Whitewing panted.

Even though Leafpool sounded calm, Jayfeather could sense her fear. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear, “She’s exhausted. I’m afraid she won’t have enough strength left to deliver the kits.”

Jayfeather rested one paw lightly on Whitewing’s distended belly and concentrated. He could feel a double heartbeat inside her, frail but steady. “She’s having two kits,” he announced. “Come on, Whitewing! You can do it.”

It’s okay, little kits, he thought as he crouched over the laboring she-cat, murmuring encouragement. You’re nearly safe. Just a little farther .

Suddenly his mind slid into Whitewing’s. He heard a vicious snarling and saw a vision of gaping fangs and lolling tongues, as if the young white queen was imagining her kits savaged by dogs, just as her mother Brightheart had been. He heard the screech of battle with other Clans and saw blood welling in deep claw marks, scarlet against pale fur. He felt the grip of hunger in his belly as he looked out across a forest deep under the snow.

Jayfeather started back, his mind reeling. Does a mother really imagine her kits’ whole lives before they’re born? He sensed Whitewing’s terror as she lay silently begging him for help.

Recovering, he bent close to the young she-cat. “Don’t worry,” he whispered. “Your daughters will be fine. They will be loved and protected by their Clanmates.” He stroked one paw gently across Whitewing’s belly. “It’s time now.”

“Yes,” Whitewing gasped.

Jayfeather felt a strong ripple pass through her belly. She let out a screech, and a tiny wet bundle slithered out onto the moss.

“Is she all right?” Whitewing panted.

“She’s fine,” Jayfeather assured her. “Now the next one.”

Whitewing lay still for a moment; then her back arched as another ripple passed across her belly, and a second tiny bundle slid into the nest.

“Well done!” Leafpool exclaimed. “Greetings, little kits. Welcome to ThunderClan.”

The first kit squeaked loudly, and Leafpool uttered a soft mrrow of laughter. “This one’s tiny, but she’s strong. There, little ones, go to your mother.”

“They’re beautiful!” Whitewing purred. “Thank you, Jayfeather. And you, Leafpool.” With one paw, she drew the tiny kits toward her and started to lick them vigorously.

A wave of triumph swept through Jayfeather as he headed for the entrance to the nursery. “Birchfall!” he called. “Come and meet your daughters.”

Birchfall brushed past Jayfeather as he stumbled inside. Jayfeather almost staggered under the wave of his relief and joy. “Whitewing, are you okay?” he choked out. “Oh, thank StarClan! What beautiful kits!”

Crouching beside Leafpool as she tended to Whitewing, Jayfeather wondered whether she had felt the same when he and her other kits were born. Did our father share that joy ?

More than anything, he wanted to talk to Leafpool, to hear her side of the story and learn the truth. In the closeness of working together, he felt for a few heartbeats that it might be possible. “Leafpool…,” he began.

Leafpool turned to him. “She’ll be fine now,” the medicine cat meowed, cutting off what Jayfeather meant to say. “Go and fetch me some strengthening herbs, and a few leaves of borage to help her milk come.”

The moment was gone. “Sure,” Jayfeather replied, and slipped out of the nursery.

By the time he had delivered the herbs, the rain was easing off. Jayfeather padded over to the fresh-kill pile for a bite to eat before he went back to his den. Several cats were clustered around it, sharing prey; their delight washed over Jayfeather as he crouched to gulp down his vole.

“It’s hard to give birth to kits in leaf-bare,” Ferncloud mewed. “Whitewing has done really well.”

“She’ll raise them well, too.” That was Mousefur, sounding less crotchety than usual. “Whitewing is one of the best cats in this Clan. When she was an apprentice she always made sure we had fresh moss, and it was dry, too.”

“We’ll all have to watch our tails when these kits are old enough to leave the nursery.” Dustpelt’s voice held a hint of amusement. “They have your blood, Cloudtail, and we all know what a hard time you gave Firestar when you were a kit.”

Cloudtail snorted. “They’ll be fine warriors, Dustpelt, and I’ll claw any cat who says different.”

Jayfeather, who was eating his prey, paused for a heartbeat as Hollyleaf and Lionblaze padded up and sat down beside him, listening to the cheerful talk in silence. None of them wanted to join in, but Jayfeather sensed that all of them felt cut off from one another, too.

“I remember when you three were kits,” Brackenfur meowed; paw steps approached and the golden brown tabby flicked Jayfeather on the ear with his tail. “Chasing foxes! It’s a wonder any of you survived to be apprentices.”

“Yeah, right,” Jayfeather muttered. Suddenly the happiness of his Clanmates was more than he could bear. Without another word, even to his littermates, he swallowed the last mouthful of vole and headed for his den.

Curled up in his nest, Jayfeather woke to the sound of paw steps, and opened his eyes to see a skinny gray she-cat bending over him.

“Yellowfang!” he exclaimed, sitting up. He was still in the medicine cats’ den, bathed in the pale glow of moonlight. Leafpool was curled up asleep a couple of tail-lengths away.

The former medicine cat dropped a long dark feather onto the moss of Jayfeather’s nest. “The time for lies and secrets is over,” she meowed. “The truth must come out. StarClan was wrong not to tell you who you were a long time ago.”

“Then what—?” Jayfeather began, but already Yellowfang’s shape was beginning to fade, melting into the moonlight until she was gone. The moonlight abruptly vanished, leaving Jayfeather in darkness as he woke from his dream.

“Mouse dung! Why can’t any cat speak straight out?” he hissed. But an icy weight in his belly made him realize that Yellowfang had told him all he needed to know.

Feeling around his nest, he found the feather she had dropped, and drew his paw down the long, smooth length. He could picture how it had gleamed black in the silver moonlight.

“She brought me a crow’s feather…,” he whispered.

Scrambling out of his nest, he padded softly out of the den, taking care not to wake Leafpool. Once he was in the clearing, he bounded over to the warriors’ den. He crept around the outside of it, tasting the air until he located Lionblaze sleeping close to the outer branches.

Jayfeather scrabbled around to find a loose bit of branch and poked it through the thorns until he felt the other end prod Lionblaze.

“Uh? Get off!” Lionblaze swatted at the branch.

“Lionblaze!” Jayfeather hissed, pressing as close as he could to his brother inside the den. “I have to talk to you. Fetch Hollyleaf.”

“It’s the middle of the night!” Lionblaze protested.

“Keep your voice down! Do you want to wake every cat in the camp? This is important ! We have to go somewhere.”

“Okay, okay, keep your fur on.”

Jayfeather waited impatiently until his littermates pushed their way out through the branches.