Jaypaw picked up the kit he’d been washing and laid it beside the others; it immediately wriggled toward the warmth of its mother, scrabbling to latch on. He sat back and listened to them suckling, their tiny purrs drowned by their mother’s, and a wave of wistfulness swept over him as he smelled the warm, milky scent.

“You’re lucky to be born in ThunderClan,” he whispered to them, thinking of the prophecy for the first time that night.

The brambles rustled as Graystripe pushed his way in. Leafpool must have called him. He crouched beside Millie, and Jaypaw heard him snuffling the queen’s fur, relief flooding from his pelt.

“You have two daughters and one son,” Millie told him, sounding tired.

“They’re perfect,” Graystripe replied softly.

Millie struggled to prop herself up so that she could look down at her suckling babies. “The tom looks just like you,” she commented. “Big and strong already, though he has more black stripes than you.”

“He looks like a bumblebee,” purred Graystripe. “How about we call him Bumblekit? And the dark brown she-cat could be Briarkit.”

“That sounds good,” Millie agreed. “I’d like to call the littlest one Blossomkit. The white patches on her tortoiseshell fur look just like fallen petals.”

“Bumblekit, Briarkit, and Blossomkit,” Graystripe murmured. “Welcome to ThunderClan, my precious children.”

“They’ll be all right now,” Leafpool mewed to Jaypaw. “Daisy will keep an eye on them and call us if they need anything.”

She wriggled out of the den, and Jaypaw followed her into the moonlight. As they padded back to their den, he felt a surge of pride—for Millie, for himself, and for Leafpool.

“You did well.” Leafpool brushed her muzzle against his cheek as if she could tell how he felt inside.

“Thanks.” Jaypaw licked her ear. Their quarrel was a long way from his mind right now. “That was the most amazing thing ever!”

“Yes, it was,” Leafpool murmured.

Was that sadness in her mew? Jaypaw wondered. She certainly didn’t seem as elated as he was; his paws felt lighter than the breeze, as if he could fly right out of the hollow and over the trees. Perhaps Leafpool had helped so many cats give birth that it didn’t stir her anymore. Or perhaps she was envious of the way the tiny kits knew instantly who their mother was, and loved her fiercely from their very first breath. Jaypaw’s paw steps slowed as he tried to imagine how Leafpool really felt watching new lives being born. Did she feel sorry that she would never have kits of her own?

Jaypaw slept late. When he finally padded out into the clearing, his thoughts bleary with sleep, hot sunshine warmed his back. The fresh-kill pile smelled delicious, and, hungry after his night’s work, he dragged a mouse from the top and began to eat.