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“I… I don’t know,” Bluefur sighed. She lowered herself to the ground carefully and tucked her tail over her front legs.
Thrushpelt padded over and laid beside her, close enough to show his support but trying not to make any move that could be seen as a romantic advance. “You know you can tell me what’s going on, right? We’ve been friends for such a long time, Bluefur. I respect your privacy, of course, but I want to be here for you.”
The she-cat blinked warmly in response before sighing again. “I don’t know.” She was silent for a while. The pair lay side by side, watching the leaves swaying in the gentle afternoon breeze. “I want to be the deputy. More than anything. I know this is my destiny, I can feel it. Everything I’ve worked for is for this moment. But having kits means sacrificing my future.”
“That’s ridiculous.” He’d seen deputies appointed when their mate was busy raising kits. Leaders were allowed to have kits while leading the Clan. Why should it be different for Bluefur? “You’re an amazing warrior, and you’re dedicated to ThunderClan. Sunstar would be mouse-brained to choose anyone else.”
“They think that I would be too busy with raising my kits. Or that I’d be too focused on my kits that I would make the wrong decision for the Clan.” Bluefur sighed again. Thrushpelt could see how heavily this was weighing on his friend, but he didn’t know what he could possibly do to ease her burden.
“Well, what if you had help?” he suggested. “You can organize patrols from the nursery! And if you had to go out on patrol, one of the other queens could watch the kits for you.”
Bluefur was silent. It made his heart ache, seeing the cat he’d loved for so long in pain. He knew her well enough to know how reluctant she was to accept help. Maybe if she knew how much I loved her, she would let me help her, he thought. Bluefur already knew, since their Clanmates had told her how Thrushpelt felt. But maybe hearing the words from him directly would change something.
“What if… what if I helped you raise them?” Thrushpelt said, trying not to let his shaky mew reveal his anxiety.
“What do you mean?” Bluefur replied, her eyes widening slightly, showing her doubt and surprise.
“You know how I feel about you, Bluefur. I'd do my best to make you happy, I promise. And I promise to love your kits as if they were my own.” Thrushpelt gazed at Bluefur. The silence seemed to stretch forever.
The she-cat looked away, her gaze focused on something in the distance. Thrushpelt waited, letting her collect her thoughts. When Bluefur looked back, her deep blue eyes glinted with tears she refused to let fall.
“And you know I don’t feel the same way.” She sighed, a shaky exhale. “You can probably tell from the kits but… Thrushpelt, my heart belongs to another cat. I can’t love you like you want me to.”
Thrushpelt inched closer to his friend and rested his tail gently on her flank. “Bluefur, I love you. All I want is for you to be happy. As long as you let me help you, that’s more than enough for me. You are my friend, and you have been for a long time. I’m not asking for you to be my mate, that would be ridiculous. You have dreams, a future… You have a destiny in front of you, and I don’t want anything to get in the way of you being everything you’re meant to be.”
“The whole Clan already thinks the kits are yours…” she murmured. “Maybe it would be easier to just let them believe it.”
A tear trickled down Bluefur’s muzzle.
“You don’t have to choose anything now. But I’m on your side, no matter what.”
Bluefur nestled against Thrushpelt and laid her head on his shoulder. After a brief silence, she spoke, her meow quiet. “I don’t deserve a friend like you, Thrushpelt.”
“Don’t be silly,” he answered softly. “I wouldn’t have stuck around this long if that was true.”
“If you could choose who you fell in love with,” Bluefur whispered, “I would choose you.”
-- -- --
“Bluefur?” Thrushpelt was laying next to Bluefur in the clearing of camp. They were the last cats awake, other than the warriors keeping guard over the Clan. It was well past moonhigh, but since Bluefur’s kits were due any day, the discomfort meant she had trouble sleeping. Thrushpelt was more than happy to stay up with her. He’d always loved the quiet of the Clan at night, how comforting it felt to hear the sounds of his sleeping Clanmates mixed with the sounds of the forest at night.
“Hm?” Bluefur’s chin was resting on her paws.
“Who is the father?” he asked hesitantly.
Bluefur looked at him, but he noticed how quickly she looked away again, trying not to meet his eyes. Oh StarClan, he thought, I’ve ruined it now.
“You… obviously don’t have to say,” he added awkwardly, trying to keep his voice quiet so the warriors wouldn’t hear. “It’s just… what if they don’t look like me?”
A chill blew through the camp, a sign that Leafbare was settling in. Bluefur leaned against Thrushpelt in an effort to keep them both warm. The camp was quiet - not silent, but quiet enough that Thrushpelt was sure everyone could hear his heart beating frantically.
“You might think less of me,” she murmured eventually. “If you knew the truth.”
Thrushpelt thought about it. Would I really think less of her for loving someone? I know better than anyone how hard it is to control who you fall for. “I don’t think I would,” he replied after a moment. “Everyone makes mistakes, or makes a choice they regret.”
“I don’t regret it though, and that’s the worst part. I love him. I want to be his mate, I want to raise his kits.” Bluefur paused. “But I can’t leave ThunderClan, and he can’t come here. If he did, everyone would know.”
“Oh.” Thrushpelt didn’t know quite how to answer. It should’ve been obvious to him sooner that it was a cat from another Clan. It had crossed his mind, but he never put much thought into it. Bluefur was one of the most loyal ThunderClan warriors he knew, so whoever she loved must be really special. But she’s still here, and he’s still… wherever he is. Maybe he isn’t really that special, if he can’t see how wonderful Bluefur is.
“He knows already, if you were going to ask. I told him I’m raising my kits here.”
“Oh.” He didn’t know what else to say.
Another gust of wind blew, this one especially bitter and cold. Thrushpelt felt Bluefur shiver before laying his tail over her and pulling her in closer.
“Are you upset?” she asked quietly.
“Of course not,” he answered a little too loudly. Dappletail, who was standing guard, glanced at the two. He dipped his head in apology, and she smiled amused. “I’m worried he might change his mind and try to take our- your kits away. I’m worried that the Clan will know they aren’t mine, and they’ll blame you. I’m worried about all the things that could go wrong. But I’m not mad at you, Bluefur.”
“Thank you,” she replied in a soft mew. “You’re going to be an excellent father, Thrushpelt.”
-- -- --
On the day of the first snow of Leafbare, Bluefur went into labor.
She paced in the nursery as the snow fell. Her belly spasmed with pain, and her breathing was sharp and erratic. Thrushpelt refused to leave her side, helping the medicine cat deliver each kit, and placing them each gently at Bluefur’s side. In the end, everything went smoothly, especially for a first-time queen like herself.
“They’re beautiful, Bluefur,” he said quietly.
“They really are.” She was exhausted and her fur was ruffled, but her eyes shone with happiness and pride at the sight of her three kits curled up nursing.
Thrushpelt laughed quietly. “I always thought kits looked really weird when they were first born. It takes a few days for them to start being cute. But these kits, they’re something else.”
“They’re perfect,” she replied. She looked up at Thrushpelt and waved him over with her tail. “Come lay down with me, I want to give them names.”
He happily obliged and curled up beside her in the nest.
There were two kits that were the same blue-gray color as their mother, and one smaller gray and white kit.
“I want to name this one Mistykit,” Bluefur mewed quietly, brushing her tail over the blue-gray she-kit. “She’s so soft, like mist.”
“That’s beautiful,” Thrushpelt purred. “What about the tom? He looks just like a little round river rock, you could call him Pebblekit.”
“No, he’s going to be big and strong… Pebblekit would be better for a small cat.” She paused for a moment to think. “I like it though, what about Stonekit?”
“Stonekit,” he repeated. “That’s a perfect name, Bluefur.”
“You should name the last one,” she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. “You’re good at naming.”
Thrushpelt looked at the small kit. She was gray with white patches, and… green? No, she was just covered in moss.
“What about Mosskit?” he suggested.
“Mosskit… I love it,” Bluefur sighed. “Mistykit, Stonekit, and Mosskit.”
“Your kits are beautiful,” Thrushpelt told her, touching his nose to the top of her head. Bluefur had already fallen fast asleep.
-- -- --
After Bluefur had a chance to rest, Whitestorm came in.
“Oh, Bluefur, they’re wonderful,” he exclaimed, coming over to nuzzle her forehead.
“Thank you,” she purred, looking up from her kits to give Thrushpelt a slow warm blink, gratitude shining through. “Our kits are beautiful.”
She called them our kits, he realized. His heart was filled with love, for Bluefur and for his new family. It didn’t matter to him before now that the kits weren’t technically his, and it mattered even less now. This was his kin.
“I love them even more than I knew I was capable of,” he replied, a simple truth that had become his reality.
“I wish more toms felt that way about their kits.” Whitestorm chuckled bitterly, then cleared his throat. “Thrushpelt, this one looks like you.”
“That’s Mosskit,” he told their friend proudly. The she-kit’s pelt was a different color, but they somehow had the exact same white patch on their chests. “I named her!”
Bluefur laughed, before saying “she had a big clump of moss stuck to her, and he thought it was her fur!”
“I did not!” Thrushpelt replied with an amused purr. “She was just covered in moss.”
“Maybe she’s part tree stump, growing moss on her,” Whitestorm joked. Bluefur looked away and pretended to yawn, as if she was suddenly very tired again.
“Maybe you can come back tomorrow,” Thrushpelt said, standing up to usher Whitestorm away. “She’s pretty tired.”
“Oh, of course. Sleep well.” He waved his tail as he exited. Thrushpelt turned back and curled up around Bluefur.
“I told you I would love your kits like my own,” he murmured into her ear. “But I love them even more because they’re ours.”
Bluefur met his gaze. Something felt different, but Thrushpelt couldn’t put his paw on what it was until he felt her gently lick his cheek. The love in her eyes was not just purely platonic.
“I was right, you’re already a wonderful father,” she purred quietly.
Thrushpelt fell asleep beside her.