The sickly scent of decaying prey wafted through the air as Emberfall sniffed at the rotting mouse. Her nose twitched in disgust and she curled her lip, baring sharp teeth. "Ugh, no way," she mewed, her orange tabby tail lashing behind her in distaste. "I couldn't stomach that right now if my life depended on it."

Cloudtail pressed his strong, muscular body against her side, offering comfort. His gray tabby fur was warm and soothing. "I know, Emberfall, but you have to eat something," he urged, his green eyes filled with worry. "You've barely touched your shares for days now. The clan needs you healthy and strong."

Emberfall coughed weakly, rubbing a paw over her sore throat. A sudden, sharp pang lanced through her belly and she let out a pained yelp, collapsing onto her side. Cloudtail leaped to his paws, his hunting instincts kicking in.

"Jayfeather! It's Emberfall, she's in trouble!" he called out, his deep voice booming through the camp. He raced off, his powerful legs carrying him swiftly towards the medicine cat's den.

Jayfeather sighed heavily, setting aside the poultice he was mixing. He left Thornclaw mid-grooming, the ancient tom pausing to give him a concerned look before continuing to pick at the cobweb tangled in his ear. The herbs' strong scent hung in the air as Jayfeather hurried to join Cloudtail and Emberfall.

The ginger she-cat was curled up on her side, her belly visibly cramping with pain. "Jayfeather, please," she whimpered.

"Up," Jayfeather ordered curtly, crouching down to help Emberfall to her trembling legs. He guided her towards the medicine den, his white fur brushing against her gray and white coat.

As they entered the den, Leafpool looked up from where she was examining a poultice, her amber eyes widening. "Emberfall!" She purred, her gaze softening. "You're looking...pale."

Cloudtail frowned, pressing against Emberfall's side. "I thought she was sick, but Jayfeather said-"

Jayfeather cut him off with a sharp meow. "She's carrying kits," he snapped, his blue eyes flashing.

"What? No way!" Cloudtail choked out, shock and joy warring on his handsome face. "Kits? But how?"

Leafpool smiled knowingly, sharing a look with Jayfeather. "Well, it happens when a tom and she-cat mate," she teased gently.

Emberfall let out a weak chuckle, reaching up to touch her belly. She could almost feel the tiny lives growing inside her, and a wave of love and protectiveness washed over her. She knew she had a difficult road ahead, but she was determined to see it through.

SCENEbreak

The medicine den hummed with the earthy scent of chervil and coltsfoot, faint rays of sunlight piercing the gaps in the bramble walls. Emberfall shifted uncomfortably on the bedding of dried ferns, her swollen flank pressed against the cold stone floor. The damp moss bundle in her paws dripped icy droplets onto her chest fur, but she drank greedily, her throat parched from the heat of greenleaf.

Jayfeather crouched beside her, his sightless blue eyes narrowed as he prodded her belly with a practiced paw. His whiskers twitched—a rare sign of focus. "Two," he muttered finally, flicking his tail dismissively. "You'll kit them in a few moons, once the leaves start falling. Be thankful StarClan didn't bless you with a whole litter."

Emberfall's ear flicked. Two. She'd hoped for at least three, like her mother's first brood. Still, relief prickled her pelt—kitting in the drought would be hard enough. She curled her tail protectively over her belly, imagining tiny paws batting at her flank. "Will they... be strong?" she rasped, avoiding his gaze.

Jayfeather snorted, tossing a withered marigold stem into the herb pile. "Strength isn't born—it's earned," he grumbled, but his voice softened as he nudged a poppy seed toward her. "Eat this. You'll need rest, not fretting over what hasn't happened."

Outside, a warm breeze carried the distant murmur of the Clan—apprentice drills, queens sharing tongues, the rustle of the fresh-kill pile. Emberfall closed her eyes, letting the rhythm steady her heartbeat. Two kits. Two chances to make my Clan proud.

The brambles at the den entrance shivered as Cloudtail shouldered his way inside, his snowy pelt glowing in the dim light. A scrawny rabbit dangled from his jaws, its fur matted with dust—a rare prize in the parched greenleaf heat. He dropped it at Emberfall's paws with a thud, the scent of clover still clinging faintly to its pelt. "Here," he mumbled around the fur, licking his whiskers. "Bramblestar would like a full report by sunhigh."

Jayfeather's gray fur bristled, his sightless eyes narrowing to slits. "Yes, yes, I'll go," he snapped, tail lashing as he stalked past Cloudtail. "Keep her occupied—and don't let her wander. StarClan knows she's stubborn as a badger." With a final flick of his ear, he vanished into the glare of sunlight beyond the den.

Cloudtail huffed a laugh, settling onto his haunches. "Still as cheerful as a thorn in the paw, that one." He nudged the rabbit toward Emberfall. "Eat. You'll need your strength if you're carrying Bramblestar's kin."

Emberfall's nose wrinkled. The rabbit smelled faintly of crowfood—the drought had left even fresh-kill lean and stringy—but she tore into it anyway, her claws kneading the earth. "I'm not a helpless kit," she growled between bites, her amber gaze darting to the den entrance. "I should be hunting, not lazing here like a—"

"Like a queen about to kithood the future of ThunderClan?" Cloudtail interrupted, his tone uncharacteristically firm. He leaned closer, his blue eyes glinting. "I once dragged Firestar himself back to camp by his scruff when he tried to fight ShadowClan on a broken leg. Don't make me do the same to you."

Emberfall flattened her ears but didn't argue. Outside, the camp buzzed with the brittle energy of a Clan stretched thin—elders murmuring about dry streams, apprentices squabbling over a shriveled blackberry. Cloudtail's tail twitched, and he began grooming his paw with exaggerated nonchalance. "So... ever heard how I outran a fox and a hawk in one day? It was back when Sandstorm was mentoring me—"

Emberfall groaned, thumping her head onto her paws. Two more moons of this?

Cloudtail's laughter rumbled like distant thunder as he rasped his tongue over Emberfall's ear. "Quit your fretting, my love," he purred, his breath warm against her fur. "These kits'll be the fiercest in ThunderClan—just wait till they out-mouse Bramblestar's own brood."

The brambles at the den entrance shuddered violently. Oaksong shouldered his way inside, his broad oak-brown frame blocking the sunlight. His icy blue eyes raked over Emberfall's swollen flank, lip curling in a snarl. "So. You knocked up my niece, kittypet," he hissed, the venom in his voice sharp enough to pierce hide. "First you taint our blood with your soft Twoleg-place ways, and now you plant your mangy line in her? Ironheart must've lost his last brain cell to allow this."

Cloudtail's tail coiled possessively around Emberfall, though his tone stayed light, almost teasing. "Didn't realize I needed your permission, Oakface. Ironheart gave his blessing—or are you calling ThunderClan's deputy a fool?"

"Ironheart's as wise as a badger in a bee's nest," Oaksong spat, claws unsheathing with a snick. The air thickened with the sour tang of crushed yarrow as Jayfeather's herb stores trembled on their ledge. "My sister deserved better than a rogue's castoff. And Emberfall—"

"Enough."

Emberfall's growl cut through the den, low and guttural. She heaved herself upright, fur bristling along her spine. "I'm not my mother, Oaksong. And Cloudtail's no rogue." Her amber eyes blazed, though her trembling paws betrayed her exhaustion. "If you've got a quarrel, take it to the Stone Hollow. But get out of Jayfeather's den."

For a heartbeat, the only sound was the drip of water from the moss bundle. Then Oaksong snorted, flattening his ears. "Fine. But when those kits come out looking like soggy kittypets, don't come wailing to me." He whipped around, vanishing into the glare of sunlight with a final lash of his thorn-scarred tail.

Cloudtail waited until his pawsteps faded before exhaling sharply. "Well. That was... festive." He nudged the half-eaten rabbit toward her, his usual smirk strained at the edges. "C'mon. Eat. We'll name the first kit 'Oakstink' just to spite him."

Emberfall leaned into his flank, her laugh brittle. "They'll need stronger names than that," she murmured, her gaze drifting to the camp clearing where apprentices scrambled to line the elders' den with thorns. Strong enough to survive this Clan's sharp tongues.