Warriors: Dawn of the Clans #2: Thunder Rising by Erin Hunter

she-cat,” Dappled Pelt meowed. “You’re all done, Turtle Tail. Three strong, healthy kits.”
    Two of the kits were already vigorously drinking Turtle Tail’s milk. The third was scrabbling blindly among the moss, letting out pitiful squeaks as he sought his mother. Gray Wing reached out a paw and gently nudged him so that he could find Turtle Tail. The squeaking stopped as the kit began to suck next to his littermates.
    “They’re small,” Gray Wing murmured, gazing into Turtle Tail’s eyes, “but they’re fighters. You’ll make the best mother in the world.”
    For some reason, his praise made pain flood into Turtle Tail’s face. She glanced down at her kits. “If only they had a father . . . ,” she whispered.
    When she turned to Gray Wing, he could read her questioning expression and the depth of love in her eyes. Love for her kits, surely. She can’t possibly mean  . . . Suddenly unsure of himself, Gray Wing took a hasty step back. “I’ll leave you in peace,” he mewed. “You need to sleep.”
    Rainswept Flower followed him out of the tunnel and raised her voice above the babble from the cats gathered around the entrance. “Turtle Tail has three healthy kits!” she announced.
    Gray Wing heard the yowls of approval as he padded back to his own mossy nest. He tried not to think of the pain and love in Turtle Tail’s eyes, or of what it meant. I need time to think  . . . Not just about Turtle Tail, but about his own behavior. He’d insisted on forcing his way through to see her. Why? He wasn’t the father; he had no right there. And yet, something had made him want to be one of the first cats to meet Turtle Tail’s new kits.
     
    Gray Wing woke to the sound of rushing water in his ears. He sneezed as a feather tickled his nose, and opened his eyes to find himself in the cave behind the waterfall.
    What . . . ? How did I get back here?
    He sprang to his paws, gazing around him wildly. Moonlight shone from behind the falling water, turning it into a screen of icy starlight.
    In the frosty shimmer Gray Wing saw that the cats were all sleeping. He spotted his mother, Quiet Rain, alone in her nest, and Dewy Leaf curled around two healthy-looking kits. He couldn’t see any of the cats who had made the journey with him from the mountains.
    They all look well fed , Gray Wing thought as he padded from one sleeping hollow to the next. It’s as if we did the right thing to leave. I must be dreaming . . . but oh, I wish it were true!
    “Gray Wing!”
    The clear meow came from the back of the cave. Gray Wing turned toward the sound and saw Stoneteller standing there, her white pelt turned to glowing silver in the light from the cave opening.
    “Gray Wing, come with me,” she invited, beckoning him with her tail.
    Without waiting to see if he would follow, Stoneteller led the way down one of the tunnels that led out of the far end of the cavern. Apprehension prickled at Gray Wing’s pads. He knew that the tunnel led to Stoneteller’s den, the Cave of Pointed Stones.
    He padded into the darkness, aware of damp rock beneath his paws, and Stoneteller’s scent wafted back to him. Soon gray light filtered into the tunnel from somewhere up ahead, and he saw the outline of Stoneteller’s head before she stepped aside and left the end of the tunnel clear.
    Gray Wing emerged and halted, staring, awe trickling through him like icy water. The cave was much smaller than the main cavern where the Tribe lived, lit by moonlight that shone through a jagged crack high above his head. Pointed stones rose up from the floor and others hung down from the roof; some had joined together so that Gray Wing felt as if he was standing on the edge of a forest made of stone.
    On the floor of the cave, puddles of water gleamed with reflected moonlight. Stoneteller stood beside one of them, still beckoning him closer with her tail.
    “Welcome, Gray Wing,” she mewed as he padded up to join her. “This is the Cave