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

camp.
    Turtle Tail was gazing down at her kits when they entered her den. All three were safe in the curve of her belly, squirming blindly on the moss and letting out tiny mews.
    To Gray Wing’s surprise, Jagged Peak was sitting beside Turtle Tail, watching the kits keenly and patting them back toward their mother if they strayed too far away. Rainswept Flower was there, too, tucking fresh bedding around Turtle Tail and her litter.
    “What are you doing here?” Gray Wing asked his brother.
    “He’s being helpful,” Rainswept Flower replied before Jagged Peak had a chance to speak. There was an edge to her tone. “Aren’t you happy that the kits are being looked after and we’re all pulling together?”
    “Uh . . . sure,” Gray Wing responded. “I didn’t mean to criticize.”
    “That’s okay.” Jagged Peak sounded more content than he had since being cast out of Clear Sky’s group.
    Rainswept Flower gave a last pat to the fresh moss. “We could do with some more of that,” she mewed, more like her cheerful self again. “Jagged Peak, come and help me collect it. We don’t want to crowd Turtle Tail.”
    As she slipped out of the den, Jagged Peak rose to his paws and limped after her, giving Gray Wing and Thunder a nod as he passed.
    “See you later, Jagged Peak,” Turtle Tail called after him, and added to Gray Wing, “He seems to be feeling better. I’m so glad!”
    “So am I,” Gray Wing meowed. “Look, we brought you some prey. Thunder caught them.”
    “Really? Good job, Thunder,” Turtle Tail responded. “And thank you. My belly feels so empty!”
    Thunder dropped the mice beside her and scuffled his forepaws in embarrassment. “I couldn’t have done it without Gray Wing.” He gazed down at the kits, his eyes wide with wonder. “They’re so small and helpless,” he murmured. His gaze gradually grew distant; Gray Wing guessed that he was remembering his mother, Storm, and his littermates, now gone forever.
    Turtle Tail began eating one of the mice with rapid, famished bites. As she ate, Gray Wing watched the kittens, fascinated by their tiny, perfect bodies. Their fur was dry and fluffed out now; one of the toms had a dark gray pelt, while the other was a gray tabby with a splotch of white fur on his chest. The little tortoiseshell she-cat kept tumbling over onto her back, waving white paws in the air.
    “Do you like them?” Turtle Tail mumbled around a mouthful of mouse.
    “Like them?” Gray Wing could hardly find words to express what he was feeling, joy and pain at once. “They’re . . . they’re so trusting and innocent.”
    Turtle Tail let out a mrrow of laughter. “You won’t think like that for much longer. Kits can be naughty, too!”
    Gray Wing’s pads prickled with embarrassment. Of course I know that! What’s the matter with me?
    “Have you given them names yet?” Thunder asked, stretching out one paw tentatively to stroke the tabby tom on his head.
    “Not yet,” Turtle Tail replied. “It’s so difficult to decide. I think I’ll wait at least until their eyes are open.” She met Gray Wing’s gaze, her expression soft, as if she realized she had hurt his feelings by laughing. “Come closer,” she invited. “Maybe you could help the little she-cat—she’s not very coordinated!”
    Gray Wing took a step forward and righted the tiny tortoiseshell, who had tipped over again and was flailing her paws frantically as she let out a loud series of squeaks. Once upright, she stumbled forward and flopped down beside Turtle Tail; her wailing stopped abruptly as she started to suckle.
    The two toms snuggled in beside her. Gray Wing watched as the three of them nursed, thinking back to how Turtle Tail had said that they needed a father.
    After Storm died, I accepted that I’d never have kits of my own. But now  . . . His heart fluttered excitedly at the thought of helping Turtle Tail to bring up her kits.
    Turtle Tail’s eyelids were drooping; she still