Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The grass was taller than Tiny expected, brushing against his whiskers as he crept through it. He’d come through a hole in the fence, leaving behind the shouts of the other kittypets. The air here smelled different - sharp and alive. He wanted to see what was beyond the Twoleg nests, just one more time.

A flicker of movement ahead made him freeze. Three cats padded into view, their pelts sleek and their eyes hard.

“Hello,” Tiny mewed, trying to sound brave. His voice squeaked, but he lifted his tail anyway.

The biggest tom’s fur bristled, he was older, with a scarred muzzle. The smaller tom unsheathed his claws.

“What are you doing here? This is ThunderClan territory!” the older one snarled.

Tiny blinked. ThunderClan? He’d heard the name whispered before, but he hadn’t thought they were real.

“Thistleclaw, he’s only a kit,” the blue-gray she-cat protested. Her eyes were fierce but not cruel.

“An intruder is an intruder, Bluefur! You’ve always been too soft on them,” Thistleclaw growled.

The words made Tiny shrink back. He hadn’t meant to intrude.

Thistleclaw’s gaze flicked to the younger tabby beside him. “Here, let’s put it to my apprentice. What do you think, Tigerpaw? How should we handle this?”

“I think the kittypet should be taught a lesson,” Tigerpaw hissed. His tail lashed. “One it’ll remember.”

Bluefur stepped forward. “Now, hold on, there’s no need for this-”

Thistleclaw turned on her, arching his back. “Shut up!”

Tiny turned and tried to run, but his paws barely moved before the young tabby slammed into him. Pain flared across his muzzle as claws tore his nose. He squealed and twisted, but Tigerpaw was too strong.

“Show it your teeth, Tigerpaw!” Thistleclaw ordered.

Tigerpaw bit down on Tiny’s shoulder and flung him aside like prey. The world spun. Tiny landed hard, dust stinging his eyes.

“Stop, Tigerpaw!” The blue-gray she-cat rushed forward, standing between them. “That’s enough!”

Her voice was thunder. Tigerpaw skidded to a halt, his eyes wide.

“Warriors don’t need to kill to win a battle, remember?” she snapped.

“I was just defending our territory,” he muttered.

“And you’ve done that,” she said firmly. “This kit has learned its lesson.”

Thistleclaw snorted, flicking his tail toward the fence. “Then let him run back to his Twolegs. Come, Tigerpaw. We’ve wasted enough time.”

Tigerpaw hesitated, glaring down at Tiny one last time. “You’ll remember me,” he hissed under his breath.

Bluefur’s tail lashed. “Go. Now.”

The older tom growled something, but he turned, pushing through the grass with his apprentice close behind. Their pawsteps faded until only the rustle of wind remained.

Tiny trembled, staring up at her. Her fur glowed silver where the sunlight touched it, and her eyes, though fierce, were kind. He tried to stand, but his legs shook beneath him. Blood trickled from his shoulder. He took a step, then another, and swayed. The ground blurred.

When Bluefur looked back at him, her eyes were no longer sharp, they were tired.

“Go home,” she murmured. “Before someother cat finds you.”

Tiny swallowed hard. “I don’t have a home,” he whispered remembering what Socks and Ruby had said about being thrown into the river. His voice cracked on the last word.

Bluefur paused.

The breeze stirred the grass around them, carrying the tang of blood and the faint Twoleg scent from beyond the fence. For a long moment, she said nothing.

Then she stepped closer, lowering her head until her breath warmed his fur. “You’re hurt. You won’t make it far like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Tiny stammered. “I didn’t mean to-”

“I know.” Her tone softened. “Come with me.”

He blinked at her, unsure he’d heard right. “Come…with you?”

“ThunderClan’s camp isn’t far. Sunstar will decide what’s to be done with you.”

“But…they said-”

Bluefur’s gaze softened, though her tone stayed even. “They were doing as they thought best. Their tempers will cool.”

She brushed her tail along his back, guiding him forward. “Lean on me. We’ll go slowly.”

Tiny hesitated, then pressed closer into her, his tiny flank brushing her leg. She matched his trembling steps as they crossed through the grass.

The grass whispered around them as they walked. Tiny didn’t know where she was taking him, or what waited beyond the trees, but he kept walking anyway. His shoulder burned, and fear clung to his paws with every step, yet a small part of him still hoped the forest wasn’t as cruel as it seemed.

---

The trek through the forest seemed endless. Every step sent a throb of pain through Tiny’s shoulder, and the forest floor felt colder the deeper they went. Bluefur kept her pace steady beside him, her tail catching him whenever he stumbled.

By the time the trees opened into a hollow surrounded by gorse and bramble, his head was spinning. Voices drifted through the air, but when Bluefur pushed through the tunnel, the noise fell away.

Dozens of eyes turned toward them.

“Bluefur?” a brown queen called from near the nursery. “Who’s that with you?”

Tiny shrank against her leg, fur bristling. The scent of cats pressed close from every side, strong, wild, and full of something he couldn’t identify that made his heart beat quicker.

“Easy,” Bluefur murmured. “No one will hurt you.”

She lifted her head and met the gaze of the warriors gathering near the center of the clearing. “He’s injured. I need Goosefeather.”

A grey tom with pale blue eyes and a ragged pelt appeared from the medicine den after hearing his name. When he saw Tiny, he blinked in surprise. “A kittypet?” he rasped.

“His wounds are deep,” Bluefur said curtly. “Help him please, the questions can wait.”

Goosefeather’s tail flicked, but he stepped aside, letting her guide Tiny toward the den. The air inside was cool and thick with the scent of herbs. A younger tom approached hearing the commotion, but he didn’t hesitate and began gathering the necessary herbs.

“Lay him here,” Featherwhisker said gently.

Tiny tried to protest, but Bluefur’s firm paw pressed him still as Goosefeather began to clean the blood from his shoulder. The sting made his eyes water, yet the rhythmic touch calmed him almost against his will. It reminded him briefly of how Quince used to clean him when he got into mud from the garden.

Outside, he could hear murmurs rising up.

“A kittypet? In our camp?”

“Has Bluefur lost her sense?”

Featherwhisker glanced up at the blue-grey she-cat, concern flickering in his eyes. “Sunstar will want to hear from you himself.”

Bluefur’s tail lashed once and she stepped back from the den entrance. “I’ll speak to him.” Her tone left no room for argument. “Keep him comfortable. I won’t be long.”

Tiny lifted his head as she turned away. The camp still buzzed with uneasy whispers, but when her blue-gray tail disappeared into the light beyond the brambles, he found himself wishing she’d stayed.

Featherwhisker returned to his side, his pawsteps light on the earth. “Lie still,” he murmured. “You’ve lost enough blood for one day.”

“I’m fine,” Tiny protested weakly. His voice came out as little more than a squeak.

“You’re not,” Goosefeather rasped from the shadows. The older tom’s pale eyes gleamed as he applied a poultice to Tiny’s shoulder. “Your heart’s racing faster than a rabbit’s. Sleep, kittypet. The forest can wait until morning.”

“I’m not tired,” Tiny mumbled, though his eyelids drooped. The den’s scents, sharp herbs, moss, earth, swirled around him, dizzying and strange. He tried to lift his head again, but Featherwhisker’s gentle paw pressed him back into the nest.

“Sleep,” the younger medicine cat said softly. “You’re safe here.”

Tiny wanted to argue, to tell them he didn’t belong here, that Thistleclaw was going to come back and kill him. But the moss was warm beneath him, and the pain in his shoulder dulled as exhaustion crept closer. The last thing he saw before sleep pulled him under was the flicker of sunlight on the den wall, and the faint outlines of hundreds of pawprints leading back toward the camp entrance.

He let his eyes close.

Chapter Text

Tiny stirred. The world felt heavy and strange, the scents of herbs and moss thick around him. For a moment, he forgot where he was but when the ache in his shoulder throbbed to life he remembered the previous day. He blinked his eyes open, squinting against the dim orange light that filtered through the tendrils at the entrance of the medicine den.

Featherwhisker was sorting herbs near the entrance, the soft rustle of leaves was calming . Outside, faint voices drifted through the camp, too distant to make out, but sharp enough to prickle Tiny’s pelt.

He shifted on the moss uncomfortably.“Featherwhisker?” He meowed.

The medicine cat glanced over, his whiskers twitching. “You’re awake. Good.”

“Where’s…Bluefur?” Tiny’s voice was hoarse and meek.

“She’s talking with Sunstar,” Featherwhisker said, padding closer. His pawsteps were soft, almost soundless.

Tiny’s ears flattened. “About me?”

“Likely, but don’t worry,” Featherwhisker said gently. “Bluefur is a good cat. She wouldn’t have brought you all this way if she thought Sunstar would send you away.”

Tiny curled his tail close, watching the dust motes turn in the sunlight. Anxiety prickled along his spine as he waited.

Goosefeather snorted from his nest in the corner. “Perhaps.”

Featherwhisker’s eyes flicked toward his mentor but he said nothing. He bent to check the poultice on Tiny’s shoulder, his touch careful. “You’ll be stiff for a while, but the wound is clean and likely to heal quickly.”

Tiny flinched as Goosefeather’s pale gaze fixed on him, unreadable. “You smell of fear, kittypet,” the ragged medicine cat rasped. “You’ll need more than herbs if you mean to stay.”

Tiny opened his mouth, then closed it again. His throat felt tight.
After a moment he whispered, “What’s a…kittypet?”

Featherwhisker blinked, surprised. “It’s what forest cats call those who live with Twolegs,” he said gently.

Tiny’s ears twitched. “Is it bad?”

Before Featherwhisker could answer, Goosefeather let out a rasping chuckle. “Bad? It means soft, pampered, weak. It means you don’t belong here.”

Tiny flinched, but before he could reply, pawsteps sounded outside. The den’s bramble curtain rustled and Bluefur slipped in, her fur glowing faintly in the evening light.

Her eyes went first to Tiny, then to Featherwhisker. “Sunstar has made a decision,”Her tone carried a warmth that startled Tiny

Featherwhisker’s ears twitched. “And?”

Bluefur drew in a breath. “He’ll let him stay…for now.”

Tiny’s heart leapt, “Stay?” he mewed.

“You’ll be in the nursery until your shoulder heals,” Bluefur said, her tone firm but not unkind. “During that time he will be keeping an eye on you. Once you’re healthy he’ll have another meeting. Likely another day or so.”

Goosefeather let out a dry chuckle. “StarClan’s will be watching too.”

Featherwhisker ignored him. “That’s good news,” he said, smiling faintly at Tiny. “You’ll have company. The nursery is full of kits your age.”

Bluefur nodded toward the den entrance. “Come, I’ll take you there.”

Tiny hesitated, his paws suddenly cold. “What about the cats from earlier…” he murmured.

Bluefur’s gaze softened, though her voice stayed even. “Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw were wrong to attack you,” she said quietly. “But they follow the warrior code and with Sunstar’s permission to be here they wont hurt you.”

Her tail brushed along his side again, guiding him forward. Tiny rose, his legs trembling, and followed her out of the medicine den into the fading light.

The camp was quieter now, but eyes still followed him. A few warriors murmured to one another. He heard the word kittypet again more than once.

Bluefur led him across the clearing to a small den near the edge. “You’ll stay here,” she said, pausing at the entrance. “The queens know you’re coming.”

Tiny swallowed hard. He could already hear mewing inside.

Bluefur dipped her head. “Go on.”

He stepped into the warmth of the nursery. The scent of milk and moss hit him at once. Two queens looked up from their nests. The dusky brown queen he’d seen earlier and a brown tabby beside her whose eyes narrowed slightly when she saw him.

Bluefur’s voice followed softly from behind. “Thank you both for taking care of this kit. Sunstar’s given him a place here while he heals.”

The brown queen flicked her tail. “He can share my nest tonight,” she said after a pause. “Whitekit likes to fuss if he has no one his age to play with anyways.”

Tiny blinked. “Whitekit?”

A small white bundle of fur popped up from behind the queen when he heard his name, yellow eyes wide with curiosity. “You smell funny,” he declared.

Tiny didn’t know what to say.

Bluefur’s whiskers twitched. “He’s still learning his manners,” she said dryly.

Whitekit tilted his head. “Are you really from the Twolegplace?”

Tiny nodded uncertainly.

“Then you must’ve seen them up close!” Whitekit’s eyes shone. “Do they really keep fire in little boxes?”

“Whitekit,” the queen sighed, flicking her tail over his mouth. “Let him rest.”

Bluefur’s gaze lingered on Tiny. “I’ll check on you in the morning,” she promised. Then she turned and slipped back into the fading light.

For a moment, Tiny just watched the nursery entrance, the way the last golden edge of sunlight caught the bramble thorns before fading into shadow. The camp beyond was full of strange sounds, pawsteps, murmured voices, the faint cry of a bird overhead. Here though, it was warm and still.

Whitekit inched closer, his yellow eyes wide in the dimness. “So…you really don’t have a Clan?” he whispered.

Tiny shook his head. “No. I lived with Twolegs. My name’s Tiny.”

“Tiny?” Whitekit repeated, tilting his head. “That’s weird”

The brown queen, who’d been settling into her nest, gave a quiet mrrow of disapproval. “Whitekit, be kind and let him rest.”

Whitekit ignored her. “Do all Twolegs give names like that?”

“I guess so,” Tiny said softly. “My brother and sister have names like mine too. Socks and Ruby.”

Whitekit snorted. “Those don’t sound like real names.”

“I didn’t pick them,” Tiny muttered defensively, curling his tail around himself.

Whitekit thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Maybe the Clan will give you a new one. Featherwhisker says cat’s names change all the time.”

Tiny blinked. “They do?”

“Sure,” Whitekit said proudly. “When I’m older, I’ll be Whitepaw. Then maybe Whiteclaw. Or maybe even Whitestar!” He puffed out his chest, then wilted a little under his sitter’s impatient stare. “Someday,” he added sheepishly.

Tiny let out a small purr. “That sounds nice.”

Whitekit flopped beside him in the moss. “You’ll get a warrior name too, if Sunstar says you can stay. Then we can train together!”

Tiny’s ears twitched. “If he says I can stay,” he echoed quietly.

Whitekit yawned, already drifting toward sleep. “He will,” he murmured drowsily. “Bluefur wouldn’t bring you here if you weren’t supposed to be here.”

The brown queen shifted, tucking her tail over both kits. “Enough talking,” she said gently. “Rest now.”

Tiny nestled down, feeling Whitekit’s warmth against his side. The moss smelled faintly of milk and leaves, and the nursery was filled with the soft rhythm of breathing.

For the first time since he’d stepped through the fence, Tiny’s fear began to fade. His shoulder still ached, but the ache seemed smaller somehow. Outside, the forest murmured with the sounds of night, and his eyes lids slowly dropped until he was fast asleep once again.

---

The first pale light of dawn filtered into the nursery, catching on strands of moss and the tiny breaths of sleeping kits. Tiny stirred, blinking sleep from his eyes. For a heartbeat, he didn’t remember where he was. Then he felt the warmth of Whitekit pressed against his side, the steady purrs of queens nearby, and the faint, comforting scent of milk and moss.

The dusky brown queen was the first to notice he was awake as she lifted her head, blinking sleepily. “Morning, little one,” she murmured. “You slept soundly.”

Tiny dipped his head. “Thank you,” he said, voice still rough from sleep.

The brown tabby queen was grooming one of her kits across the nest. “Bluefur said she’d come for him at sun-up,” she reminded quietly, not unkindly, but with a trace of wariness.

Whitekit yawned and stretched beside him, blinking his yellow eyes. “You snore,” he mewed.

Tiny’s ears twitched in embarrassment. “Do not.”

“Do too,” Whitekit replied, his whiskers twitching in amusement. “Robinwing said I used to snore too, when I was little.”

“You’re still little,” The tabby queen called from her nest.

That made the three kits curled beneath her giggle. The sound was light and ordinary, and it eased some of the tightness in Tiny’s chest.

Before long, Bluefur’s familiar scent drifted through the brambles. She pushed her way into the den, fur brushed smooth and eyes bright with purpose. “Good morning,” she greeted softly.

Robinwing lifted her head from her nest. “Morning, Bluefur. He slept well.”

“That’s good,” Bluefur replied, her gaze warm as it found Tiny. “Come on, little one. We’re going to have Featherwhisker check your shoulder again, just to be sure it’s healing properly.”

Tiny sat up quickly, his fur rumpled from sleep. “Am I…in trouble?”

Bluefur’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “No, you’re not in trouble.”

Whitekit had perked up beside him, yellow eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Can I come too?”

“Not this time,” Bluefur said with a faint smile. “You’ll have plenty of time to play later.”

Robinwing nosed him gently back down into the nest beside Frostkit and Brindlekit who were still fast asleep. “Stay put, Whitekit. You’ll only be underpaw.”

Bluefur looked at Tiny then flicked her tail toward the den entrance. “Come on.”

He followed close at her side, the cool morning air brushing his fur as they stepped into the clearing. The camp was alive now, the scents of fresh moss and prey mingling under the rising sun. Warriors were stretching, apprentices darting to and fro with bracken and bedding in their jaws.

For a heartbeat, it almost felt like the world had forgotten him, until Thistleclaw’s voice sliced through the hum of morning.

“So it’s true,” he growled, stepping forward from where he stood near the warriors’ den. Tigerpaw loomed just behind him, his amber gaze burning. “You really brought the kittypet into camp.”

Bluefur’s ears flicked in agitation. “He was injured. I wasn’t going to let him die in the forest.” Tiny could just barely see her claws gripping the sandy ground below her, and he worried in that moment that perhaps she’d attack him.

“Then you should’ve taken him back where he belongs,” Thistleclaw snapped. “ThunderClan has no use for soft-bellied strays.”

Bluefur turned her head sharply, her blue-gray eyes like ice. “No, ThunderClan has no use for warriors that take pride in attacking defenseless kits!”

For a moment, no cat spoke. A few warriors stopped what they were doing to glance over as tension rippled through the clearing. Even the birds beyond the camp seemed to fall silent.

Tigerpaw’s whiskers twitched, and his mouth curled into a sneer. “Maybe he just needs-”

“Enough!” Bluefur’s voice cracked through the clearing like claws on stone. Her glare seemed to pin Tigerpaw where he stood, and though he tried to meet her eyes, his ears flattened before he turned his gaze to the dirt.

“Go help the elders,” she said coldly. “You can put your paws to good use.”

Tigerpaw’s tail lashed once, but he said nothing, retreating toward the apprentices’ den. Thistleclaw’s fur bristled, his eyes narrowing with a flash of anger. “Don’t tell my apprentice what to do!” He growled.

Bluefur said nothing but briskly turned to Tiny who stood frozen beside her, “Come on,” she said, her voice softening as she brushed her tail over his back. “Let’s get your shoulder checked.”

Tiny hesitated, glancing once at the departing cats, then hurried after her. His paws tingled with lingering fear where they touched the earth.

The air inside the medicine den was more familiar to him now. Featherwhisker looked up from where he was, crushing marigold leaves, his fur gleaming in the dim light.

“I expect your morning’s been…lively?” He asked with a knowing purr.

Bluefur sighed, her tail flicking once. “Lively is one word for it. Could you check his wound again? I’d like to be sure it’s healing cleanly.”

Featherwhisker nodded and padded closer. “Lie down, little one. Let me see.”

Tiny obeyed, lowering himself onto the soft moss. The young medicine cat leaned in, nosing gently at the poultice. “It’s clean,” he murmured after a moment. “No swelling, no heat. You’ll have a scar, though.”

Tiny blinked up at him. “A scar?”

Featherwhisker nodded, inspecting the wound once more. “A small one, maybe,” he said simply. “It’ll fade as you grow. Many cats have one or two by the time they’re apprentices.”

When Featherwhisker finished reapplying the poultice, Bluefur turned back to him. “There. You’ll be stiff for a day or two, but that’s normal,” she said. “Try to rest when you can.”

Tiny rose slowly, testing his paw against the earth. The ache in his shoulder flared, then dulled. “It doesn’t hurt as much as yesterday,” he admitted.

Featherwhisker nodded, satisfied. “That’s a good sign. Keep it clean, and no rough play.”

Bluefur gave him a small, approving nod. “Thank you, Featherwhisker.”

The young medicine cat flicked his tail. “Sunstar’s been watching the clearing since dawn. I don’t know what he’s decided yet, but I know he trusts your judgment.”

Bluefur’s eyes softened at that, though her expression stayed measured. “We’ll see what he says,” she murmured. Then she turned to Tiny. “Come on. You should eat something before you go back to rest.”

They stepped out into the clearing again and Tiny kept his gaze low, focusing on Bluefur’s steady pawsteps.

At the fresh-kill pile, she nosed out a small mouse and dropped it at his paws. “Eat,” she said simply.

Tiny hesitated. “All of it?”

A faint smile touched her muzzle. “If you can. You’ll need your strength.”

He bent down and took a cautious bite. The taste was wild and rich, nothing like the soft pellets or scraps he used to eat in his twoleg’s den. He chewed slowly, glancing around as Bluefur settled a few tail-lengths away to speak quietly with another warrior.

By the time he finished, the camp had grown quieter again. Patrols were leaving, and the warmth of the sun soaked through his fur, easing the chill that had lived in him since yesterday.

When Bluefur returned, she nodded toward the nursery. “Go rest with Robinwing and the kits. I’ll speak with Sunstar again when he’s ready.”

Tiny hesitated. “Do you think he‘LL let me stay?”

Bluefur’s tail brushed his shoulder. “Sunstar is a wise leader,” she said simply. “He’ll make the best choice for you and the clan.”

Tiny nodded, though the answer didn’t calm him entirely. As he padded back to the nursery, he caught sight of Thistleclaw and Tigerpaw near the camp entrance. Tigerpaw shot him a look that made his fur prickle, but Thistleclaw said nothing but scowled, flicked his tail dismissively, and turned away.

Inside the nursery, the light was dim and the air warm again. Robinwing glanced up as he entered, her amber eyes gentle. “Back already?”

“Bluefur said I should rest,” Tiny murmured.

“Then be sure to do that,” Robinwing said, tucking her tail around her kits. “The forest will still be here when you wake up.”

Whitekit stirred, blinking drowsily. “Did Sunstar say you can stay?”

Tiny hesitated, then shook his head. “Not yet.”

Whitekit yawned. “He will. You’ll see.”

Tiny smiled faintly and curled into the moss beside him. Outside, the forest buzzed with birdsong and patrol calls. He listened until the sounds blurred together and his eyelids growing heavy as he drifted back to sleep.

Chapter Text

Tiny stirred as pale sunlight filtered through the nursery walls. The air inside was warm and heavy with the scent of milk and moss. For a heartbeat, he forgot where he was. Then the soft squeak of kits playing pulled him back, and he opened his eyes to see Whitekit pouncing on Frostkit’s twitching tail.

Robinwing lay nearby, her tortoiseshell fur glowing in the morning light as she groomed her chest. “Careful, you two,” she murmured, amusement softening her voice. “You’ll wake our guest before he’s ready.”

“I’m awake,” Tiny mumbled, pushing himself upright. His muscles still ached, but the sharp sting in his shoulder had faded. The moss beneath him was dry and clean, and for the first time since he’d been brought here, he didn’t feel quite so sore.

Robinwing turned her head toward him, her green eyes warm. “If you feel strong enough, you can stretch your legs today. Just stay close to the nursery.”

Tiny nodded. The thought of stepping outside made his heart beat faster. He remembered the clearing, the tall cats, the watchful eyes.

Frostkit yawned, blinking sleepily, but Whitekit was already bounding toward Tiny. “You can come out with us?” he mewed, his yellow eyes bright. “You have to! There’s a bug that keeps flying near the elders’ den, and I almost caught it yesterday!”

Robinwing chuckled. “Only if Tiny feels up to it. Don’t drag him off before he’s ready.”

Whitekit puffed out his fur in mock offense, then crouched down, tail flicking. “I’m not dragging him. I’m showing him the best part of camp!”

Tiny couldn’t help but smile. “Maybe later,” he said softly. “When I’ve stretched a bit.”

Whitekit twitched his whiskers, clearly planning to hold him to that.

After a few moments of stretching, Robinwing got up and left the den to fetch fresh bedding. She warnined all of them that they’d better behave till she got back. As soon as her tail left the den, Whitekit scooted closer until his nose nearly brushed Tiny’s whiskers.

“So,” he began, eyes gleaming, “what’s it like being a kittypet?”

Tiny blinked. “It’s…quiet, I guess. There aren’t many other cats, not like this. Just Twolegs. They bring you food, and you sleep in a soft nest by the fire.”

Whitekit’s ears perked in amazement. “By a fire? In their den?”

“Yes. It’s warm, even in leaf-bare.” Tiny’s gaze drifted toward the nursery wall, remembering the glow and crackle of flames. “There’s always food, and no rain, and…” He trailed off, realizing how strange it sounded compared to the rustle and life of the camp outside.

Frostkit tilted her head. “But don’t you get bored?”

Tiny hesitated. “A little,” he admitted.

Whitekit’s whiskers twitched. “That’s weird,” he said cheerfully, though not unkindly. “I’d never want to live with Twolegs. They smell funny.”

Tiny tried to laugh with him, but the sound came out small.

Before he could answer, Whitekit nudged a ball of moss toward him. “Let’s play moss-ball.”

Tiny blinked. “Moss-ball??”

Whitekit was already crouched, tail lashing. “Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you.”

Frostkit giggled, batting the mossball closer. Tiny hesitated only a moment before swatting it back. Soon they were tumbling across the moss, mock growls and laughter filling the nursery.

For the first time since arriving, Tiny’s chest felt light. When he finally flopped onto his side, breathless, Whitekit nudged him with a paw.

“You’re not bad for a kittypet,” he purred.

Tiny smiled faintly. “Thanks…I think.”

When Robinwing returned, she found all three kits sprawled in a heap of moss, panting. She purred softly. “Looks like someone’s strong enough for a walk after all.”

Tiny’s ears flicked. “Can I?”

Robinwing nodded. “Just stay close to the den. I don’t want you tiring yourself too soon.”

The sunlight outside made Tiny blink. Camp looked different, he thought. The bramble walls glowed green and gold, and the clearing swarmed with activity. Cats padded in and out through the gorse tunnel, carrying prey or moss, their pelts flashing in the light.

A brown-and-white tom, the same one who’d snarled at him when he first arrived, sat near the camp entrance, talking to a young orange tom whose fur gleamed brighter than the rest. The ginger cat’s voice was low but steady, and the other cats seemed to give him quiet respect. Tiny didn’t know why, but he found his gaze drawn to him again and again.

Bluefur stood beside the ginger tom, her expression unreadable as she spoke to him. Tiny lowered his eyes, unsure if they were talking about him.

“Come on,” Whitekit called, bouncing ahead. “Don’t just stand there!”

Tiny reluctantly turned then padded after him. The ground felt cool beneath his paws, and the scents were rich. It made his whiskers tremble.

But not every gaze was kind. Near the fresh-kill pile, two warriors glanced his way. One wrinkled her nose. “That’s the kittypet the patrol dragged in,” she muttered. “Smells like Twolegs.”

“Bluefur’s too soft-hearted,” the other replied.

Tiny’s ears burned. He turned his head quickly, pretending to watch a sparrow feather tumble across the clearing.

Whitekit noticed his silence and bounded back to him. “Don’t listen to them,” he mewed. “Come on, the elders are this way!”

Tiny hesitated, then followed, trying to ignore the weight of eyes on his back.

Whitekit darted ahead, tail waving like a banner. “Hurry up, Tiny! Mumblefoot tells the best stories!”

Tiny followed but his paws prickled with nerves. The clearing was busy, and cats lay sharing tongues in the sun. He noticed Tigerpaw dragging a bundle of old moss from the nursery, and the air was full of chatter.

He spotted the bright ginger tom again, sitting with Bluefur beside the Highrock. They were speaking quietly, their gazes shifting between the clearing and the nursery. For a heartbeat, Tiny was sure the tom’s amber eyes met his, calm and thoughtful. Tiny looked away quickly, pretending to focus on Whitekit instead.

The elders’ den was a hollow beneath an old fallen tree. Warm air and the scent of old fur drifted from within.

“Mumblefoot! Larksong!” Whitekit squeaked as he bounded in. “I brought a new friend!”He pressed close to Tiny’s side. “He got hurt, but he’s getting better. Bluefur says he might get to stay if Sunstar says it’s ok!”

A brown tom lifted his head, amber eyes glinting. “So I hear,” he rumbled. “You must be the little one everyone’s been whispering about.”

Tiny dipped his head shyly. “I’m…Tiny.”

Beside Mumblefoot, a tortoiseshell she-cat with bright green eyes stretched and yawned. “Don’t mind him,” she said. “He likes to make things more dramatic than they are. I’m Larksong. You’re welcome here, as long as you behave. Sit and rest those paws. We were just about to tell a story, weren’t we, Mumblefoot?”

The brown tom’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “If you can call it that.”

Tiny settled near the entrance, tucking his paws neatly beneath him. As Mumblefoot began his story, it was a tale of border skirmishes and daring rescues, and Tiny listened with wide eyes. He could almost see it: the rush of paws, the slash of claws, the proud yowls of victory.

He had never heard stories told this way. Twolegs spoke softly, and their words made no sense. Even his mother had only a couple short tales to share and he’d heard them so often they had no excitement left in them.

Whitekit crept closer, his yellow eyes shining. “Tell the part about the badger!” he urged.

Mumblefoot sighed, but his eyes gleamed. “Always the badger, isn’t it?”

Even Frostkit giggled. Tiny found himself laughing too.

The story ended with murmurs of approval from Larksong, but when she spoke again, her tone softened. “And of course,” she meowed, “no cat was braver than Snowfur.”

Whitekit’s ears drooped. The kit’s paws kneaded the earth in silence.

Tiny frowned, unsure why the mood had changed. Larksong’s eyes softened as realization washed over her. “Forgive me, little one,” she said gently to Whitekit. “I shouldn’t have brought her up.”

Mumblefoot cleared his throat. “You kits run along now,” he said. “You’ve listened well enough for one day.”

As they turned to go, Tiny risked a glance toward the Highrock again. The ginger tom was still there, watching the camp, his gaze unreadable.

They padded back toward the nursery in silence. Whitekit trotted ahead, his tail held stiff, while Frostkit followed close behind him. Tiny stayed a few paces back, uncertain if he should speak.

When they slipped through the bramble entrance, Robinwing was spreading the fresh moss in the nests. She glanced up when she heard their pawsteps. “Back already? I hope you didn’t wear out the elders.”

Whitekit only shrugged and crawled into the nest beside Brindlekit. His ears were still low.

Robinwing’s eyes softened. She waited until the kits settled before turning to Tiny. “Is everything alright?”

Tiny hesitated. “Larksong said something about…Snowfur. Whitekit got quiet after that.”

Robinwing sighed, brushing her tail gently along Frostkit’s flank. “Snowfur was Whitekit’s mother,” Robinwing said quietly. “She died not long ago.”

Tiny’s chest tightened. “Oh.”

“She was a great warrior,” Robinwing murmured. “Brave, loyal…just like Whitekit will be someday.” She looked toward the den entrance where sunlight still spilled in, catching on the moss. “It’s still hard for him. Try to be kind if he seems upset.”

Tiny nodded, eyes down. “I will.”

Robinwing gave a faint purr. “Good. Now get some rest. You’ve had quite a morning.”

He curled into his nest, but his thoughts didn’t quiet. The word died echoed in his mind, heavy and strange. He’d never known anyone to die before. In Twolegplace, cats simply disappeared, and no one ever said where they’d gone.

For a long moment, he watched Whitekit’s back rise and fall in sleep, wondering what it felt like to lose someone that way.

---

By sunhigh, the camp was buzzing again. Robinwing had stepped out to share tongues near the fresh-kill pile, and the kits were back to playing at the den’s edge like they had been earlier that morning.

Whitekit crouched low in the dust. “You be the squirrel this time!” he ordered, tail lashing in eager excitement.

Tiny laughed softly. “Again? You just caught me!”

“That’s what warriors do. They keep training!”

Before Tiny could protest, he heard a familiar set of pawsteps crunching against the earth.

A tall, white-gray tabby strode through the gorse tunnel, his pelt spiky and his claws still unsheathed from patrol. His amber eyes were cold and sharp as he glanced around the clearing.

Whitekit’s head shot up, his fur fluffing with pride. “That’s my father!” he mewed with pride.

Tiny froze. Thistleclaw was Whitekit’s father?

Thistleclaw flicked his tail once toward the nursery but didn’t speak. His gaze slid over them like the wind over stone before he padded on toward the warriors’ den.

Whitekit’s chest swelled. “Did you see him? He’s the best fighter in the Clan! Tigerpaw says he’s unbeatable.”

Tiny forced a small smile, though his paws felt heavy. “He…looks strong,” he murmured.

Whitekit nodded eagerly, already bouncing after Frostkit, clearly oblivious of his friend’s reluctant response.

Tiny watched the bushy tom disappear into the shadows of the den and felt a shiver trace his spine. The camp didn’t seem quite as safe any more.

---

The camp quieted as the sun sank behind the trees. Shadows stretched long across the clearing, and the air grew cool and still. Tiny curled in his nest, half listening to Robinwing hum softly while the kits drifted toward sleep.

But his mind wouldn’t rest. He kept seeing the gleam of Thistleclaw’s claws, hearing the rough whisper of warriors’ voices earlier that day.

The kittypet in the nursery.

Tiny stared down at his paws. The moonlight spilling through the brambles caught the edge of his collar, turning it to a faint silver ring around his neck. He touched it with one paw, tracing the smooth edge of the buckle.

He’d never thought much about it before. It was simply part of him, the way his Twolegs knew he belonged to them. But now, in this camp full of proud, free cats, it looked wrong.

He turned and tried to hook his paw under the edge, tugging until the skin beneath his fur pinched. The buckle wouldn’t move. He bit at it instead, growling softly, but the leather only creaked.

A sleepy voice broke the silence. “Tiny?”

He froze. Whitekit was sitting up, blinking at him through the low-light with sleepy eyes.

“Why are you doing that?”

Tiny hesitated. “It’s…just bothering me.”

Whitekit tilted his head, curiosity outweighing drowsiness. “It’s a collar, right? That’s what kittypets wear.”

Tiny’s ears flattened. “I know.”

Whitekit blinked, thinking. “If you want, I can help you get it off. My claws are pretty sharp now.”

The offer was so simple, so kind, that Tiny didn’t know what to say. His chest felt tight with shame. “No,” he murmured after a moment. “It’s fine.”

Whitekit yawned, unconvinced. “If you say so.” He curled back into the moss, already half-asleep.

Tiny lay awake long after Whitekit fell back asleep, his collar felt heavy against his throat. He stared at the nursery wall and sleep finally took him just as the first light of dawn began to creep through the brambles.

When he woke again, the den was alive with soft movement. Frostkit and Whitekit were tussling near the entrance, their squeaks muffled by Robinwing’s gentle scolding. Tiny stretched, still feeling groggy.

After a moment the nursery entrance darkened. Bluefur stood there, her blue-gray fur glimmering in the late morning sun. Her eyes, though calm, carried something he couldn’t name that made Tiny’s heart skip.

“Tiny,” she said softly. “Sunstar would like to see you.”

Chapter Text

The words seemed to freeze the air around Tiny. For a heartbeat, he could only hear the thrum of his own heart as the camp beyond the nursery waited.

Robinwing straightened at once, her tail brushing protectively against Tiny’s side. “I’ll come too,” she said, her tone gentle but firm.

Bluefur nodded. “Good, Sunstar wanted to speak with you too. Follow me.”

Tiny’s paws felt rooted to the ground. The words echoed in his ears, Sunstar would like to see you.

He forced himself to move. The moss felt cold beneath his paws as he followed Bluefur out into the clearing. The camp was quieter than usual, and cats paused in their tasks to glance up as he passed. The morning sunlight glowed on pelts and leaves, and Tiny felt the weight of every cat’s eyes on him.

The bright ginger tom he had been noticing yesterday sat near the base of the Highrock, tail wrapped neatly around his paws, and Tiny realized that he must be Sunstar. His gaze found Tiny’s at once, steady and unreadable but also kind.

Robinwing brushed her tail across Tiny’s shoulder, her voice low. “Stand tall, little one.”

Tiny swallowed hard, his heart pounding. Whatever came next,he decided, he would face it.

He lifted his head, the collar cool against his neck, and met Sunstar’s eyes.

Sunstar’s gaze was steady as the Highrock’s shadow fell across the clearing, cool against the young tom’s fur.

Bluefur took her place to one side, her tail curling neatly around her paws. Robinwing sat close enough that Tiny could feel the warmth of her fur brushing his flank. He drew a slow breath.

Sunstar’s voice, when it came, was calm and even. “You’ve been among ThunderClan for several sunrises now. Tell me, Tiny, what do you remember of the place you came from?”

Tiny blinked, caught off guard by the gentleness in the question. “I…lived with Twolegs,” he said softly. “There were other kits like me, but they didn’t like me, and when the twoleg kits didn’t pick me, they said I’d be thrown in the river, so I had to leave.”

Sunstar nodded slightly. “And why did you come to the forest? What did you hope to find?”

Tiny hesitated. His paws shifted on the packed earth. “I thought maybe…I could go somewhere and find a new home, somewhere I could belong.”

The ginger tom studied him for a long moment. His eyes were kind but unreadable. “Belonging is a fine thing to seek,” he said, “but life in a Clan is not as simple as it may seem. We rise before dawn to hunt. We fight to defend our borders. There will be cold moons when prey is scarce, and leaf-bare winds that cut through fur and bone. A Clan cat shares all of this, the hardship as well as the joy. Do you understand what that means?”

Tiny’s heart thudded. “Yes,” he whispered. Then, stronger, “Yes, I understand. I still want to stay.”

Sunstar’s whiskers twitched, the faintest trace of approval in his eyes. “And if you stay,” he said quietly, “you will have duties. You will learn the warrior code and follow it, even when it seems hard.”

Tiny’s tail tip flicked nervously. “I will. I promise.”

For a heartbeat, Sunstar was silent. Then he turned his gaze to Robinwing. “Robinwing,” he said, his tone deepening. “You did a great service to your clan when you took over the care of Whitekit after the passing of his mother. Now I ask if you would be willing to care for this kit also until he is ready to become an apprentice?”

Robinwing dipped her head without hesitation. “I will. Whitekit’s mood has already improved since Tiny arrived. Having another tom his age has been good for him. If you allow it, it would be no burden to see to Tiny as well.”

The ThunderClan leader held her gaze for a heartbeat longer, then looked back to Tiny. “Very well,” he said at last, voice low but certain. “Wait here.”

He rose, sunlight glinting along his flame-colored pelt, and leapt onto the Highrock in a single bound.

For a few heartbeats, Tiny could only stare after Sunstar, hardly daring to breathe. The leader stood tall on the Highrock, his fur glowing gold in the morning light. His tail swept once, signaling to the Clan below.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey join beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!” His voice rang clear and strong through the hollow.

The camp stirred at once. Cats padded from the warriors’ den and the bramble screen of the nursery. Tigerpaw stalked in slowly from the clearing’s edge, his pelt sleek from morning training, and sat near the back of the newly formed crowd.

Robinwing’s tail brushed Tiny’s shoulder again, urging him to stand straight. He obeyed, though his paws trembled. Bluefur gave him a reassuring nod as she settled nearby.

When the Clan had gathered, Sunstar’s gaze swept across them. “You all know of the young kit who was brought to us several sunrises ago,” he began. “He came to ThunderClan from twoleg-place, alone and wounded, yet he has shown courage and respect during his time here.”

Tiny’s ears burned as murmurs rippled through the crowd. He caught glimpses of faces, some curious, some wary, others warm with interest.

Sunstar continued, his tone steady. “Robinwing has agreed to take him into her care until he is ready to begin his training. From this day forward, until he is ready to begin his warrior training, he shall be known as Nightkit.”

Nightkit froze. The name rang in his ears, strong and sharp and beautiful.

“Nightkit! Nightkit!” The call rose from the gathered cats, first from Robinwing and Bluefur, then from others until it filled the camp like the wind in the trees.

Tiny blinked rapidly, his throat tight. Nightkit.

Robinwing bent to press her muzzle against his cheek. “Welcome to ThunderClan Nightkit,” she murmured, her eyes shining.

He looked up at Sunstar, who met his gaze once more from the Highrock. The leader gave a slow nod, approval glimmering in his eyes. Nightkit felt warmth surge in his chest so strong it made his paws feel light.

He was no longer just a visitor. He was a real ThunderClan cat!

The last echoes of his new name still rang in Nightkit’s ears when a murmur rose from the edge of the crowd.

“What about the Twoleg collar?” a young warrior asked. “He still wears it.”

Nightkit’s heart gave a jolt. He had almost forgotten the strip of thin leather around his neck. Now it seemed to burn against his fur. He ducked his head, shame prickling beneath his pelt.

Bluefur stepped forward before Sunstar could speak. Her blue-gray fur shimmered in the sunlight as she halted beside him. “No ThunderClan cat wears a Twoleg collar,” she said, her voice calm but certain.

Nightkit froze as she leaned closer. Her teeth found the collar just below his ear, and he felt a soft tug, then another. With two sharp bites, the leather parted cleanly and slipped free.

The collar fell to the ground with a faint thud.

For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then Robinwing brushed her tail across Nightkit’s shoulders. “There,” she murmured.

Relief rushed through Nightkit, light and dizzying. The air felt cooler against his neck and the weight was gone. He looked down at the collar, lying limp in the dust, and felt something inside him loosen.

When the meeting began to break apart, another cheerful squeak broke the silence. “Nightkit!”

Whitekit bounded from the nursery entrance, no longer held back by Swiftbreeze, his fur fluffed with excitement. He skidded to a stop in front of Nightkit. “I told you he’d let you stay!”

Nightkit smiled and pawed at Whitekit’s ear until the two tumbled across the clearing in a flurry of fur and squeaks and joy.

Robinwing’s amused purr joined the chorus of friendly laughter, and even Sunstar’s whiskers twitched with faint amusement before he leapt down from Highrock to join the dispersing crowd.

For the first time, Nightkit didn’t feel like an outsider. He pressed against Whitekit’s side, breathless and grinning. The sunlight bathed the camp in gold, and as it touched his fur, Nightkit felt as if the whole forest had opened around him.

A few cats passed. Lionheart gave a short nod, his golden fur catching the light. “Welcome to ThunderClan,” he meowed, his tone warm.

Swiftbreeze followed, her tail flicking as Redkit, Spottedkit, and Willowkit tumbled at her paws. “He’s got a strong look about him already,” she said with a purr.

Robinwing dipped her head. “He’ll fit in nicely.”

Nightkit’s chest swelled. The scents of the camp, the warmth of the clearing, and the hum of voices felt like an embrace.

Bluefur brushed her tail along his spine as she passed. “You did well,” she murmured. She seemed to hesitate, like she wanted to do more, but then she moved off toward the warriors’ den.

Whitekit’s whiskers twitched. “Come on! I want to show you the moss nest we fixed this morning while you were talking to Sunstar!”

Nightkit bounded after him, their paws drumming softly over the earth. They tumbled through the nursery entrance together, laughing.

Robinwing followed with a soft purr. “Settle down, you two. You’ll wake the Frostkit and Brindlekit.”

They were still catching their breath when a shadow filled the entrance. Tigerpaw stood there, his amber eyes hard.

“So it’s true,” he growled. “Sunstar’s really letting you stay.”

Nightkit stiffened. “He…he is.”

Tigerpaw’s tail lashed. “Just remember that won’t ever change what you are.”

Nightkit flinched. He opened his mouth, but no words came.

“Leave him alone!” Whitekit burst out, his fur bristling. “He’s a ThunderClan cat now!”

Tigerpaw’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll see how long that lasts.” He turned and stalked away, the tip of his tail twitching as he disappeared into the clearing.

The nursery fell quiet again.

Whitekit huffed and dropped beside Nightkit. “Don’t listen to him. He’s just mad because he’s the only apprentice and he hast to do all the work by himself.”

Robinwing stepped closer and gave Nightkit’s ear a quick lick. “Tigerpaw’s got a sharp tongue,” she said. “But he’ll get over himself eventually. Besides, he can’t change what Sunstar has decided.”

Nightkit nodded slowly. His throat felt tight, but when he looked around the nursery and saw Whitekit’s eager eyes, he still felt that warmth deep inside. He was a ThunderClan cat now and no one could take that from him.

Chapter Text

Sunlight filtered through the nursery walls, dappling the moss in soft gold. Nightkit stirred, stretching until his claws brushed the edge of his nest. His fur was still mussed from sleep, but the ache in his shoulder had faded completely now.

It had been nearly seven sunrises since Sunstar had called his name before the Clan. The memory still glowed inside him like a spark, steady and warm. Each day since, he had woken to the same scents and sounds, and each day it felt a little more familiar and a little less like a dream.

A sudden tug on his ear made him squeak.

“Wake up!” Whitekit meowed urgently, his eyes gleaming in the half-light. “Come on, you’ve been asleep forever!”

Nightkit blinked the sleep from his eyes. “I wasn’t asleep forever,” he mumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

“You were,” Whitekit insisted, puffing his chest. “I’ve been awake since dawn!”

From the next nest, Robinwing gave a sleepy mrrow of amusement. “You’ll wake Frostkit and Brindlekit if you keep yowling like that,” she murmured, curling her tail protectively over the smaller kits.

Whitekit ducked his head, though his whiskers twitched. “Sorry, Robinwing.”

Robinwing sighed but her tone softened. “If you two want to play, go outside. Stay where I can see you, and don’t get under the warriors’ paws.”

Nightkit’s ears pricked. “We can go out?”

Robinwing nodded, eyes half-closed. “As long as you behave yourselves.”

That was all Whitekit needed to hear. He leapt to his paws, tail quivering. “Come on!”

Nightkit followed, heart fluttering with excitement. The bramble tunnel spilled open into sunlight, and he blinked at the brightness of the clearing.

The camp was alive with sound and scent. Warriors’ pelts gleamed as they shared tongues near the Highrock, and Tigerpaw carried fresh moss toward the elders’ den. The air smelled of prey and ferns, and faintly of the wet stone beyond the camp walls.

A few cats looked up as the kits tumbled into the open, but most only purred with amusement. Nightkit caught Lionheart’s eye from across the clearing, and the golden warrior gave him a quick smile before returning to his conversation.

Whitekit bounced in a circle beside him, unable to stand still. “What should we play?” he demanded.

Nightkit’s whiskers twitched. “Let’s hunt!”He dropped into a crouch that was far too high, his tail swishing noisily behind him. “Like this?”

Whitekit stifled a purr. “You’ll scare off every mouse in the forest like that!”

“Then show me!” Nightkit challenged.

Whitekit crouched low, belly fur brushing the ground, and began to creep forward through the dust. His tail balanced haphazardly behind him. Nightkit copied him at once, his tongue poking from the corner of his mouth in concentration.

The two kits moved side by side, shadows sharp and short in the morning light. For a heartbeat, Nightkit could almost believe they were already apprentices, real ThunderClan cats on a real hunt.

Whitekit crept beside him, his nose twitching. “I think I smell something!” he whispered.

Nightkit twitched an ear. “You just smell the fresh-kill pile,” he teased.

“No, really!” Whitekit protested, lowering his belly until it brushed the dust. “It’s a vole…I can feel it!”

Nightkit crouched and then whispered,“Then let’s get it. You circle around that way, I’ll sneak up from behind.”

Whitekit’s eyes gleamed. “Got it!”

He darted around a clump of ferns, his tail flicking wildly. Nightkit stayed where he was, staying low and pretending to scent the air. The rustle of ferns gave away Whitekit’s every pawstep, but Nightkit pretended he didn’t notice.

A shadow passed over him, and Nightkit froze. A huge golden shape loomed just ahead, Lionheart was padding toward the camp entrance with a scrap of moss in his jaws. The warrior stopped short when he saw the two kits crouched and wriggling in the ferns and brush.

“Now what’s this?” he rumbled, setting down his moss. His amber eyes sparkled with amusement. “Hunting practice already?”

Whitekit puffed out his chest. “We’re hunting a vole!”

Lionheart flicked his tail, eyes bright with laughter. “A vole, you say? I think I saw one just about here.”

Before either kit could react, he dropped into a crouch, tail twitching playfully. Then he darted away across the clearing, bounding in wide, exaggerated leaps.

“Get him!” Nightkit yowled.

Whitekit squealed with delight, racing after him. Nightkit followed close behind, their paws pattering against the packed earth. Dust rose around their paws as Lionheart zigzagged between clumps of grass, his golden fur flashing in the sunlight. He darted past the fresh-kill pile, around the bramble screen of the nursery, and straight toward the elders’ den.

“Too slow!” he teased over his shoulder, his whiskers twitching with laughter.

“Get him!” Whitekit yowled, his voice bubbling with excitement.

Lionheart darted left, then feinted right, and both kits tumbled into a heap where they’d tried to turn too fast. Whitekit scrambled up again almost at once, his fur sticking out in all directions. “He’s tricking us!”

Nightkit shook the dust from his whiskers. “Then we’ll trick him back.” He crouched low, eyes bright with mischief. “You chase him toward me. I’ll be waiting to pounce.”

Whitekit’s eyes gleamed. “Okay!”

He charged after Lionheart, yowling, “You can’t escape, vole!”

Lionheart laughed aloud and bounded away, slowing just enough to keep the game going. “You’ll never catch me!”

Nightkit crouched in the shadow of a fern near the camp wall, tail twitching. His heart raced with the thrill of it, the smell of earth, the scrape of claws on stone, the thud of paws drumming through the clearing.

Lionheart turned in a wide circle, with Whitekit hot on his heels, and Nightkit could see his chance coming. He wiggled his haunches, readying himself.

“Now!” he yowled, bursting from the fern.

Lionheart started to spin toward the sound, but he was too late. Nightkit launched himself forward in a clean, high leap. His paws landed squarely on the warrior’s tail.

Whitekit squealed with triumph. “We got him! We got the biggest vole in the forest!”

Lionheart gave a dramatic yelp, rolling onto his side. “Defeated! The mighty vole has fallen!”

Whitekit tumbled into the pile with a squeak of laughter, and all three rolled across the clearing in a flurry of fur and dust.

“Whitekit! Nightkit!” Robinwing called, her voice sharp but not unkind. “Be careful where you’re going, you’ll trip someone!”

Lionheart raised his head, still grinning. “They’ve got good instincts,” he called back. “If they keep this up, I might have to watch my tail when they’re apprentices.”

Swiftbreeze called from near the warriors’ den, her tone both sharp and amused. “Lionheart, if they tear up that clearing any more, you’ll be the one smoothing it out again!”

Lionheart only chuckled, sweeping Nightkit gently off his chest with one large paw. “Worth it. They’ve got the makings of fine warriors, especially this one.” His eyes met Nightkit’s, warm and steady.

Nightkit felt his fur prickle with pride. Breathless and grinning, he dipped his head. “We’ll be the best hunters in ThunderClan someday!”

Lionheart purred, his tail curling. “With leaps like that, I believe it.”

Robinwing snorted in amusement, though her eyes were fond. “Just see that you don’t teach them bad habits, Lionheart.”

Lionheart chuckled, shaking out his fur as the kits scrambled upright. “No bad habits here, only fierce hunters.” He lowered his voice, mock serious. “Though I’d say Whitekit’s crouch could use a little work.”

Whitekit huffed, nose wrinkling. “I’ll be better than you one day!”

Lionheart’s whiskers twitched. “I’ll look forward to that.”

Robinwing’s laugh carried faintly from the nursery entrance. Nightkit turned to see her watching them, her gaze full of quiet pride.

Lionheart shook out his fur, scattering dust in all directions. “I’ll be cleaning moss out of my pelt until moonrise.”he pretended to complain, stretching his legs.

Whitekit giggled, batting at his tail again. “You moved too slow!”

“I let you win,” Lionheart countered with a mock snort. “You’ll find that real prey doesn’t-”

He never got to finish.

Whitekit’s ears pricked suddenly. “Bluefur’s back!” he gasped.

Nightkit turned toward the camp entrance. Through the bramble tunnel, Bluefur padded into the clearing, her pelt sleek with dew and the scent of forest air clinging to her fur. A sparrow dangled from her jaws, and a few leaves stuck to her flank from the undergrowth.

“Come on!” Whitekit squeaked, bouncing in place. “Let’s surprise her!”

Lionheart blinked. “Wait-”

But the kits were already gone. They tore across the clearing in a blur of fur and squeals, dust puffing beneath their paws.

Bluefur had just set down her catch when the two bundles of energy barreled toward her. She barely had time to raise her head before Nightkit and Whitekit collided with her front paws, tiny claws scrabbling harmlessly at her chest.

“Got you!” Whitekit mewed, eyes shining. “You didn’t even hear us coming!”

Bluefur gave a startled mrrow, then burst out laughing. “Is that so?” She swiped playfully at Whitekit’s flank with one paw. “If I didn’t hear you, it’s because you sounded more like thunder than mice!”

Nightkit puffed his chest. “We caught Lionheart!”

Lionheart was still making his way toward them, muttering under his breath. “Traitors,” he grumbled, but his eyes were warm.

Bluefur’s whiskers twitched. “Is that so? Well then, perhaps I should see what kind of hunters you’ve become.”

Whitekit and Nightkit exchanged a quick, conspiratorial glance before both dropped low, if “low” could be called the half-tangled, tail-swaying disaster that followed.

Whitekit’s hindquarters were sticking up so high that his tail brushed Bluefur’s chin, and Nightkit’s paws kept sliding in the dust as he tried to creep forward. His belly was nowhere near the ground, and his ears flicked wildly as he concentrated.

“Shh!” Whitekit hissed. “You’re stepping too loud!”

“No you are!” Nightkit shot back, his voice a fierce whisper.

Bluefur pressed her paw to her muzzle to hide a laugh. “Very…spirited,” she managed.

Lionheart, still pulling moss from his pelt, let out a loud purr of amusement. “If I were a vole, I’d be running just to escape the noise.”

Whitekit whirled on him, eyes wide with indignation. “Hey!”

Nightkit huffed, his whiskers twitching. “We were sneaking!”

Bluefur smiled, her tone softening. “You were trying very hard, but if you want to move like a hunter, you must keep your belly fur close to the ground and your tail still.”She crouched smoothly beside them, every muscle shifting in perfect control.

Her movements were silent, fluid, and perfectly balanced. The kits stared in awe. Even Lionheart gave an approving nod before padding away with a chuckle.

“Now you try,” Bluefur said gently.

Nightkit dropped back into his crouch at once, determined to get it right this time. He tucked his belly lower and tried to keep his tail still, though it trembled with effort. Beside him, Whitekit did the same, his eyes locked on Bluefur for approval.

“Better,” she murmured. “You’re quiet now, but remember, watch where your paws fall. Even the softest step can snap a twig if you’re not careful.”

Nightkit adjusted his weight, moving one paw forward, then another. The ground felt cool beneath his pads, the way the forest floor must feel under the trees.

“Good,” Bluefur said quietly. “That’s enough for now. Save the rest for when you’re apprentices.” She flicked her tail lightly across his flank and straightened.

Whitekit bounced up again at once, unable to stay still. “We’ll be the best hunters ever!” he declared.

Bluefur purred, her eyes soft. “I don’t doubt that.”

Nightkit’s chest swelled at her words. He wanted to stay in this moment forever. For a heartbeat, he imagined himself older, standing tall beside her on patrol, a real warrior of ThunderClan.

He was still caught in that daydream when a shadow crossed the clearing. The warmth in his chest faltered as the scent of fresh blood and bramble hit his nose.

Thistleclaw padded in from patrol, his pelt spattered with dust and his claws still unsheathed. A vole hung from his jaws, but his eyes weren’t on the fresh-kill pile. They were fixed on Bluefur and the two kits crouched at her paws.

He dropped the vole at the edge of the clearing and stalked closer. “So this is how ThunderClan trains its warriors now,” he growled, voice cold. “Fooling around in the dust while the sun’s still high.”

Bluefur looked up at him, calm and steady. “They’re kits, Thistleclaw. I was showing them how to move quietly.”

He snorted. “You call that harmless when you’re teaching my son to creep around like prey?” His eyes flicked to Nightkit, narrowing. “And with a kittypet no less!”

Whitekit flinched, but Nightkit froze where he stood. The word struck like claws against his heart.

Bluefur’s voice stayed steady. “They were playing. Kits need to learn coordination somehow.”

Thistleclaw’s fur bristled and his tail lashed. “I expect my son to grow into a warrior, not waste his time pretending with a house pet.”

Nightkit’s pelt burned. He wanted to speak, to say something, but the words tangled in his throat.

Bluefur’s tail brushed Nightkit’s shoulder. “He’s a kit, Thistleclaw. There’s time enough for battle training when he’s an apprentice. Let him learn to steady his paws first.”

Thistleclaw’s ears flicked, his whiskers twitching.

“He’s learning to waste his time. You can’t teach strength rolling in the dust with a kittypet.” He growled.

Bluefur stepped between him and the kits. “If you’ve got something to prove, Thistleclaw, prove it on patrol. Not to kits who’ve done nothing but play.”

For a heartbeat, neither moved. The sunlight cut sharp lines across the clearing, glinting off Thistleclaw’s pelt.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a hiss. “Keep away from my kit, Bluefur. And you-” His gaze seared into Nightkit. “Stay away from Whitekit if you know what’s good for you.”

Nightkit’s paws rooted to the ground. He didn’t dare breathe.

Before Bluefur could reply, Robinwing’s voice sliced through the air like a claw through bramble. “That’s enough!”

She strode toward them, her fur bristling. “If you’ve finished snarling at kits, Thistleclaw, perhaps you could take your temper to the training hollow instead.”

Thistleclaw’s ears flicked back, but he didn’t answer. His eyes lingered on Bluefur for a long, smoldering moment before he turned and stalked off toward the warriors’ den, tail lashing.

Robinwing swept the kits toward the nursery with one firm flick of her tail. “Inside,” she said softly.

Whitekit pressed close to Nightkit as they obeyed. The walls of the nursery swaddled them in shadow, but even there, Nightkit could still feel the thud of Thistleclaw’s tail as it struck the earth one last time.

Robinwing nosed them gently toward their nests. “Stay here,” she murmured, her voice soft but firm.

Whitekit crept into the moss beside Frostkit and Brindlekit, his fur still fluffed. “He’s never been that mean before,” he whispered. “I don’t understand why he’s acting like this.”

Robinwing sighed and drew her tail around him, pulling him close. “Your father’s been under a lot of strain,” she said gently. “Sometimes cats forget how their words sound when they’re angry.” Her gaze shifted to Nightkit, her voice steady but kind. “None of this was your fault, either of you.”

Nightkit nodded, though his throat was tight. He lowered himself into his nest, the moss cool beneath him, and tried to steady his breathing. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw Thistleclaw’s glare, felt the weight of that word—kittypet—like a claw pressed into his chest.

He turned his face into the moss, fighting the heat behind his eyes.

Whitekit’s voice came in a whisper beside him. “Don’t listen to him,” he murmured. “He’s just… different lately. I don’t know why.”

Nightkit turned his head. “You think he’ll stop being angry?”

Whitekit hesitated, then gave a small nod. “He has to. He’s my father.” His voice trembled, but he pressed closer. “When we’re apprentices, things will be better. We’ll train together, and we’ll show every cat how strong we are together.”

Nightkit managed a small smile. The ache in his chest didn’t vanish, but it loosened just a little. Outside, the murmur of the camp drifted through the bramble walls.

He let out a slow breath and pressed closer to Whitekit, feeling the warmth of the nest and the faint beat of his friend’s heart beside him.

One day, he told himself, no cat will dare call me kittypet!

The thought settled deep inside him, sharp as a thorn but steady as stone.

Chapter Text

The nursery was quiet in the pale morning light. Most of the snow that had fallen a few days ago had melted, leaving only thin patches of white along the camp walls and a film of frost on the moss. The air still held the bite of leaf-bare, yet there was warmth stirring beneath it now, the kind that hinted newleaf was not far away.

Nightkit stretched in his nest until his hind paws brushed the far edge. The moss rustled under him, dry and flattened from use. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and gave a small grunt. When had the nest grown so small? Or…when had he grown so big?

Whitekit stirred beside him, blinking blearily. “You’re up already?” he mumbled.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Nightkit admitted, giving his chest fur a few brisk licks. “It’s too stuffy in here.”

From across the den, a voice piped up. “Then go sleep outside with the elders,” Frostkit mewed. Her white pelt gleamed in the dim light as she rolled onto her side. “They’d probably enjoy your snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” Nightkit protested, heat prickling his ears.

Brindlekit yawned and tucked her paws neatly under her chest. “You do a little,” she said gently, her whiskers twitching with amusement. “But not as loud as Whitekit.”

Whitekit shouted, “I do not!” then gave a mock growl and pounced at her, but his longer legs tangled in the moss, and he tumbled forward with a grunt.

He spluttered, then launched another clumsy pounce that slid through the moss.

Willowkit and Spottedkit squeaked in laughter from Swiftbreeze’s side of the den. Robinwing lifted her head from her nest, her eyes warm with amusement. “Easy, you two,” she murmured. “You’ll wake the whole camp with all that noise.”

Whitekit sat up, fluffing his fur. “We’re just practicing our battle moves.”

“Battle moves?” Willowkit echoed with a snort. “You couldn’t even land a moss ball without tripping over your tail.”

“Oh yeah?” Whitekit puffed out his chest. “Wait until I’m an apprentice. Then we’ll see who’s laughing!”

Nightkit flicked his tail in agreement. “We’ll both be apprentices soon,” he said with quiet certainty. “Maybe even before the snow’s gone.”

Redkit wrinkled his nose. “You say that every morning.”

“But this time it feels different,” Whitekit insisted. “We’ve been good! Haven’t we, Robinwing?”

Robinwing stretched, her soft brown fur catching the light. “You’ve both been a pawful, but nothing unusual,” she said with a purr. “Still, I wouldn’t go picking out your nests in the apprentices’ den just yet.”

The kits groaned, though Nightkit could tell she was hiding a smile. He pushed the moss around his paws, trying to ignore the flutter in his chest. The thought of being an apprentice filled him with both excitement and a strange ache. The nursery finally felt like home, warm and familiar, yet lately it had begun to feel cramped. He only hoped his transition to the apprentice den would still feel welcome.

Outside, a faint breeze rattled the brambles, carrying the scent of the forest, sharp pine, thawing earth, and the lingering trace of prey. It made his whiskers quiver. Somewhere beyond the camp, patrols were already moving through the woods, paws pressing into cold soil, breath pluming in the air. He wanted to be there, too.

Spottedkit’s voice pulled him back. “You’ll both make great apprentices,” she said softly. “And then we’ll have to find new playmates.”

Willowkit flicked her tail against her sister’s flank. “They’ll still come visit! Right…?”

“Of course we will,” Whitekit promised. “We’ll teach you all the best crouches!”

Robinwing purred from her nest. “You’ll need to learn them yourselves first.”

That made all the kits laugh, even Redkit, who let a fond glance linger toward Nightkit and Whitekit.

Robinwing rose, then gave her pelt a shake. “If you’re all going to be awake, you might as well go stretch your legs in the clearing. Stay where I can see you, and don’t get under any warriors’ paws.”

Whitekit leapt up, his eyes bright. “Let’s go see if the elders need some help! Maybe if we’re lucky they’ll think we’re ready to be apprentices.”

Frostkit’s whiskers twitched. “They might let you help,” she teased, “but they’ll never mistake you for apprentices.”

Whitekit ignored her, already darting toward the bramble tunnel. Nightkit hesitated for a heartbeat, glancing around the den. Robinwing met his gaze and gave a small nod. “Go on,” she said softly. “You’re both too big to be cooped up in here.”

Nightkit’s whiskers twitched. “We’ll tell you if anything exciting happens!” he promised.

Then he ducked after Whitekit, the chill of leaf-bare nipping at his paws as he stepped into the pale light of the clearing. The sun hung bright over the Highrock, and the camp shimmered with a thin dusting of frost. Warriors’ pelts gleamed, and Nightkit breathed in the mingled scents of cats and pine and thawing earth.

For a heartbeat, it felt as though every sound was calling to him. He squared his shoulders and trotted after Whitekit.

They slipped across the clearing, careful to keep out of the warriors’ paths. The ground still crackled faintly but in places where cats had walked all morning, the earth was soft and dark.

Mumblefoot and Larksong were stretched out near the elders’ den, blinking in the sunlight as they chewed the last bite of their fresh-kill. When they saw the kits approach, Mumblefoot lifted his head, whiskers twitching.

“Well now,” he rasped, amusement flickering in his eyes. “If it isn’t ThunderClan’s youngest warriors. Come to pester us before sunhigh?”

Whitekit puffed out his chest. “We came to help,” he declared. “Do you need fresh moss? Or…or we could bring you prey!”

Larksong’s purr rumbled deep in her chest. “Prey, is it? I think you’d scare off every mouse in the forest before you caught one. Nevertheless you’re a tad late. Tigerpaw brought us a few mice early this morning.”

Nightkit stepped forward eagerly. “We can fetch moss, though. Or clear out the old bedding?”

Larksong’s eyes softened. “That would be kind of you, little ones. If you’re sure you don’t mind a bit of dust.”

Whitekit grinned. “We don’t mind!”

The two kits took off in a flash of paws and dust, running between the moss pile near the nursery wall and the elders’ den. With each lap they grabbed a mouthful moss and dropped it near the entrance to the den, then grabbed some old moss and dragged it to the edge of camp where it could be disposed of later.

The two kits worked side by side, tails waving, the elders’ quiet chuckles following them like sunlight. For a moment, Nightkit could almost believe they really were apprentices, trusted with real chores and real responsibilities.

The sun was high when the last bit of fresh moss had been tucked into the nests and all the old moss was neatly piled away. As they finished, Mumblefoot nodded his approval. “You two did fine work,” he said. “Better than some apprentices I could name.”

Whitekit’s eyes shone with pride. “Really?”

“Truly,” the elder replied, his tone warm. “You’ll both make fine apprentices one day.”

Nightkit dipped his head, his chest swelling. “Thank you,” he mewed earnestly.

As they padded away, he caught sight of movement near the Highrock. Sunstar was standing at the edge of the clearing, his golden fur gleaming where the sunlight touched it. He was watching them, not sharp like Thistleclaw’s narrow stare, but thoughtfully, as if he were weighing something in his mind.

Whitekit followed his gaze. “Do you think he saw us helping?” he whispered.

Nightkit nodded slowly. “Maybe.”He shook bits of old moss from his whiskers, glancing toward Robinwing’s nest across the clearing. Before he could suggest they do something else, a familiar pawstep sounded behind them.

Robinwing padded up softly, her pelt brushed smooth, eyes gleaming with warmth. “That’s enough work for one morning,” she said gently.

Whitekit turned, his tail flicking. “We were about to ask if anyone else needed help!”

Robinwing’s whiskers twitched with amusement. “You’ve helped more than enough, and now you need to take a break. You’ll want to be well rested and neat for tonight.”

Nightkit blinked, puzzled. “What’s tonight?”

Robinwing’s purr deepened, low and warm. “Your apprentice ceremony. Sunstar told me he’s decided it’s time.”

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to spin. Nightkit’s paws rooted to the ground, and he felt the air rush from his chest.

Whitekit’s eyes widened, his voice a breathless whisper. “Really? We’re…we’re going to be apprentices?”

Robinwing nodded, her eyes shining. “You’ve both earned it.”

Nightkit’s paws tingled all the way up to his ears. The camp seemed to blur around him, everything fading into a single, dizzy buzz of excitement. He met Whitekit’s wide, shining eyes and felt the same wonder reflected there.

They were going to be apprentices!

By the time Nightkit and Whitekit ducked back through the nursery tunnel, Nightkit’s paws felt as if they barely touched the ground. The bramble walls glowed gold with afternoon light. Frostkit and Brindlekit looked up at once from their tussle near Robinwing’s nest, ears pricking.

“What’s got you two so puffed up?” Willowkit asked, narrowing her eyes with playful suspicion.

Whitekit’s tail quivered. “We’re going to be apprentices!” he burst out, unable to hold back his excitement for another heartbeat.

The den erupted at once.

“Really?” squeaked Frostkit, his eyes wide.

“That’s so soon!” gasped Spottedkit, her tone full of delight.

Willowkit’s whiskers twitched. “I knew it,” she teased, eyes bright. “You’ve both been too big for this den for ages!”

Swiftbreeze lifted her head from her nest across the den, her own kits pressed close against her flank. “Apprentices already?” she meowed with a purr. “Leaf-bare must be ending if Sunstar’s ready to start training in earnest.”

Redkit sat up straight, his fur ruffling. “That’s not fair! We’re almost big enough too!”

Willowkit rolled her eyes. “You’re only four moons, mouse-brain.”

“That’s almost six!” Redkit protested.

“Not quite,” Swiftbreeze said gently, sweeping her tail around her kits. “Your turn will come soon enough.”

Spottedkit pressed against Nightkit’s side. “You’ll have to come back and tell us what it’s like,” she said softly.

Nightkit purred, feeling his chest swell. “I will,” he promised. “All of it.”

Robinwing brushed her tail along his flank, pride softening her gaze. “You’ve come far since your first day here,” she murmured. “I couldn’t be prouder.”

Frostkit blinked up at Whitekit, awestruck. “Are you going to sleep in the apprentices’ den tonight?”

Whitekit nodded eagerly. “Yeah! Maybe we’ll even get to go hunting tomorrow!”

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves,” Robinwing teased. “You’ll have enough to learn without chasing every mouse in the forest.”

Swiftbreeze purred from across the den. “And you’ll both need to look sharp when Sunstar calls the Clan together.”

Nightkit ducked his head, but his purr rumbled all the same. The teasing couldn’t touch the excitement that thrummed through him. He and Whitekit were really leaving the nursery!

Robinwing began grooming each one of them tidying their pelts, smoothing down tufts of fur with quick, gentle strokes. “Hold still,” she scolded lightly when Whitekit fidgeted. “You’ll want to look your best.”

The minutes stretched like slow-drifting clouds. Each time Whitekit tried to shift, Robinwing’s paw was there to press him gently back into place. Nightkit tried to be patient, but his tail twitched every few heartbeats. The nursery felt smaller than ever, warm and humming with quiet purrs. Outside, the sounds of camp drifted in as they waited.

By the time Robinwing finally stepped back with a satisfied nod, the moss beneath them was dotted with loose tufts of fur, and the shadows had grown long.

“Don’t wander far,” Robinwing warned as they stepped out. “You’ll hear Sunstar when he calls.”

Whitekit nodded solemnly, but the moment her tail disappeared back through the tunnel, he turned to Nightkit, eyes shining. “I can’t sit still another heartbeat,” he whispered. “Let’s walk. Just around camp. We’ll stay clean.”

Nightkit purred. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

They padded together across the clearing, paws silent on the soft earth. The camp felt different tonight, quieter. Warriors spoke in low tones near the fresh-kill pile, and the elders dozed in their nests with half-open eyes. Even the breeze that stirred through the gorse felt expectant.

Whitekit glanced toward the warriors’ den. “Who do you think our mentors will be?”

Nightkit hesitated, his fur prickling with excitement. “Lionheart, maybe? Or Sparrowpelt?”

Whitekit’s whiskers twitched. “Maybe Bluefur? She’s one of the best hunters in the Clan.”

Nightkit dipped his head, though a flicker of hope warmed his chest. “Bluefur’s really patient,” he murmured. “And she never looks down on anyone.”

Whitekit tilted his head, eyes dreamy. “I hope Lionheart is my mentor. He’s always nice to us.”

“You’d talk his ears off,” Nightkit teased.

Whitekit flicked his tail. “Then he’d better get used to it!”

They both purred softly, laughter muffled against the cool air.

Movement at the edge of camp caught Nightkit’s eye. Bluefur had returned from the warriors’ den, her sleek pelt brushed smooth and her step light despite the cold. She paused near them, her eyes warm as she took in their freshly groomed coats.

Nightkit straightened, drawing his shoulders back as she padded toward them.

When she stopped a few tail-lengths away, her eyes softened with warmth and Nightkit’s heart thudded in his chest, half pride, half awe.

“Getting some air before the ceremony?” Bluefur asked, her voice quiet but steady.

Nightkit opened his mouth to answer and his throat felt too tight for a moment. He nodded quickly. “We didn’t want to get messy again.”

Bluefur’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “A wise choice. Apprentices should look presentable for their big day.” She glanced toward the Highrock, where the last rays of sunlight caught on its edge. “It’s a big step,” she said softly. “But I know you’ll both make ThunderClan proud.”

Nightkit straightened, every word sinking deep. “Thank you, Bluefur,” he said quietly.

Her gaze softened. “You’ll both do great things one day,” she murmured, and with a flick of her tail she padded toward the Highrock.

Whitekit exhaled, almost in awe. “Did you hear that? She said we’ll do great things!”

Nightkit purred, his chest tight with pride. “Come on,” he whispered. “Let’s go back to the nursery, it’s got to be almost time!”

They settled side by side, fur brushing, neither speaking. Nightkit’s chest felt tight with anticipation. The hush around the camp pressed close, and even the air seemed to hold its breath. He didn’t know if he wanted Sunstar to call right away or to let this moment last forever.

Then a shadow moved at the edge of the clearing, and Sunstar leapt to the Highrock, his ginger fur catching the last light of dusk.

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the Highrock for a clan meeting.” he called.

The words rang clear through the still air. A shiver raced along Nightkit’s spine. He rose to his paws before he realized he was moving, and beside him, Whitekit did the same. The two of them exchanged a breathless glance, then padded out into the clearing as cats began to emerge from their dens.

The camp glowed with the last of the sun’s fire. Warriors took their places, their pelts gleaming in streaks of gold and shadow. Robinwing and Swiftbreeze watched from the nursery entrance, pride shining in their eyes. Frostkit and Brindlekit pressed close to their mother, eyes wide with awe. Willowkit, Redkit, and Spottedkit sat beside them and stayed silent.

Nightkit’s paws trembled as he followed Whitekit toward the center of the clearing. Each step felt both heavy and light, as if he were walking in a dream.

They took their places below Highrock, just as Robinwing had shown them. Sunstar dipped his head.

Their leader’s gaze swept over the gathered cats. “Tonight, two young cats stand ready to take their place among ThunderClan’s apprentices. They have grown strong through the cold moons of leaf-bare and shown the heart ThunderClan values most. It is time for them to begin their training.”

Nightkit’s ears burned. The faces around him blurred into a haze of light and color, Lionheart’s steady gaze, Bluefur’s calm eyes, the flick of tails and the whisper of pride running through the crowd. He could hardly breathe.

“Whitekit,” Sunstar said, turning his gaze toward the smaller tom, “from this day forward, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Whitepaw. Patchpelt, you are a patient and loyal warrior, known for your steady paws and keen eye. I trust you will teach Whitepaw to balance courage with wisdom.”

Patchpelt, a sleek black-and-white tom, stepped forward, his amber eyes warm. He touched noses with Whitepaw, and the young tom’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

Then Sunstar turned to him.

Nightkit’s breath hitched. He lifted his chin, trying to stand as tall as Lionheart, though his legs trembled beneath him.

“Nightkit,” he said, his voice steady, “from this day forward, until you have earned your warrior name, you will be known as Nightpaw. Bluefur, you have seen the promise in this young cat since the day he entered our camp. Use your patience and skill to shape Nightpaw into the best warrior he can be.”

Nightpaw’s breath caught. Bluefur rose from her place among the warriors, her paws soundless on the frozen earth. When she reached him, she bent to touch her nose to his.

“I’ll expect your best,” she murmured, her voice low enough that only he could hear.

“Yes, Bluefur,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I promise.”

For a heartbeat, everything else vanished.

He was a ThunderClan apprentice.