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"What the bright?"

"The sun?"

"Why bright?"

"It gives light so we can hunt and see what we're doing."

Milkkit gaped at his mother. Luckykit was curled up beside him, her pale golden-brown fur was ruffled. His sister seemed to always be crying or sleeping. She was no fun.

Something about . . . what was her name? Ash? Ashpop? Milkkit scrunched his nose as he tried to think of what she was called. Ashenpoppy. He licked his lips nervously, his body still caressed in the soft moss. A wreath of curiosity seemed to circle his head.

"I outside," he demanded, his milky-white fur bristling as Ashenpoppy contemplated him.

"Okay, but only outside the nursery, not through the whole camp." She blinked affectionately at him and gave him a few gentle licks. He pushed her away with his tiny paws, squeaking in anger.

Scrambling to his paws, Milkkit steadied himself. Then slowly, with one paw in front of the other, began to walk. He realized he wasn't stable enough just a few heartbeats before he slipped over an indentation in the ground and skidded across the patch of dew-strewn grass, legs splayed out and stomach damp.

Before he could start wailing, someone reached out and grabbed him by his scruff. "It's okay, kit," the deep voice murmured in his ear. His breath tickled Milkkit's ear fluff.

The cat set the little tomcat down. It was a large, fluffy white tom with sapphire-blue eyes. His eyes were lined in black. He touched his black nose to Milkkit's head. "Stay safe, kit. I'm Cranewing, by the way." His eyes travelled fondly across Milkkit.

Milkkit licked his white chest fur furiously. How could we make a fool out of himself the second time he left the nursery. His mind translated it to just having major embarrassment. "Thank," he mewed to Cranewing. Those bright blue eyes searched longingly at his face. Milkkit shrugged it off and started to wander shakily around the nursery entrance, sniffing this way and that.

All the dens were made out of ferns and branches, entwines together to make a strong shelter. Inside the nursery, there had been a hollow carved out so there was room to put a nest or stand.

Milkkit reached out a little paw to dab at the dew in the grass nearby, but an aggravated yowl made him look up so quickly his neck cracked. Mewling in surprise, he tottered back to the nursery, the source of the commotion.

"I'm sorry! It was only a couple nights! I thought you were dead and so he slept besides me! Is it so wrong to want to be comforted? You almost died in the medicine den!" Ashenpoppy was shouting at a lithe golden shape with long black markings.

"So I'm not their father?!" Acornrustle snarled, clenching his teeth and ripping up the grass beneath his paws, claws working unconsciously at tearing up the earth. Tears sparkled in Milkkit's father's eyes.

But wait, that isn't my father, Milkkit thought in shock, the truth sinking in finally. Ashenpoppy just said. Satisfied on how fluid his thoughts were compared to when he spoke out loud, Milkkit stepped forward, his whiskers twitching.

"Mum," he whined, his eyes big. "What happen?" The ground felt wavy underneath his paws, like it was constantly dipping and reforming. Everything seemed so far away.

By now, the rest of the Clan had crept forward, watching in amazement as the drama unfolded. "I'm so sorry. Acornrustle is not your father," Ashenpoppy meowed feebly, looking away from the intensity of the Clan deputy's forestry gaze. "It was a couple nights, when Cranewing was comforting. We decided not to tell you, but I guess now it's out."

Sablepaw and Bearpaw gasped in unison.

"How could you?" Acornrustle hissed, spinning around on his hind paws to glare hatefully at the fluffy white tomcat. Cranewing flinched.

"He even looks like them," Whitebark growled. He stared at his brother.

"Carry on." The commanding voice of Valleystar rang throughout the camp. He sounded tired. The tabby tom leaped down from a tree branch. "No cat will be punished. But that is not tolerable." Cranewing lowered his gaze to the ground, muttering an apology. "Anyway," Valleystar carried on as if the betrayal was no big deal, "It seems we have a visitor. Meet . . . my brother . . . "

All Milkkit could think of was that it looked as if a bear had walked calmly into the camp.

" . . . Battlewish."