Duskflower had been kitting since before sunrise, and she was sick of it.

Larkfeather placed a paw on her belly. "Almost there, Duskflower. They're strong and healthy!"

She grunted. "Yeah, yeah. I want them out!"

The medicine cat chuckled. "Working on it."

Duskflower never wanted kits. Needy, squirming newborns? No thank you. Tiny lives that relied completely on her and would always be there, never leaving her alone for six moons? She'd rather not deal with that.

But mostly, she wanted her life. She loved being a SpringClan warrior, able to swim and hunt and sleep when she wanted to. And for the past two moons, she hadn't been able to do that because of the kits.

Waspthorn was excited for his kits. He'd be a great father. He'd visit them all the time. But in the end, Duskflower was the one sitting there in the nursery watching them all the time.

Plus, she had seen her friend Grasswhisker have her two little monsters. It didn't look pleasant.

Yet here she was. A ripple of pain passed through her, and she hissed.

"One's coming," Larkfeather said. "Get ready, Grasswhisker."

The gray queen was laying in the nearest nest, ready to take and lick the kits when they came. She gave a nod, eyes shining with excitement. Why am I not excited? She just wanted it to be over.

Agony passed through her body. Duskflower let out a yowl, digging her claws in the nest. It felt like foxes were ripping her apart from the inside.

Stupid kits.

Another wave of pain hit, and she began to feel dizzy. "There's the first one!" She was faintly aware of Larkfeather mewing.

"It's a she-kit," Grasswhisker purred. She placed the tiny, mewing, gray bundle next to Duskflower's belly. "Here, I licked it already."

I have a daughter. For some reason, the thought didn't excite her as much as it seemed to have excited Waspthorn.

Another ripple of agony. "The second one's coming!" Larkfeather called. Duskflower fought for each breath. No cat ever told me it was this bad!

Grasswhisker placed a second kit at her belly, this one being a light silver tabby. "One more, I think." The medicine cat stated.

Duskflower braced herself, and the pain came worse than before. She yowled despite herself, hearing it echo around the den. The world spun, and she grasped the nest as if it was her only connection to the living world.

"Is something wrong?" Grasswhisker whispered. "It's not coming."

It better be coming! Duskflower thought in a haze. It's Larkfeather's only job!

She felt another ripple of pain. "Is it over yet?" She groaned, voice hoarse and raspy.

"Almost," Larkfeather said, but his voice wasn't as steady and reassuring as it had been before. "This last one is not coming, that's all."

Duskflower yowled as more pain came, but it wasn't as strong as it had been. Is that a good thing or a bad thing?

Larkfeather was talking to himself. "Think! What did Lakebreeze tell you? What herb..." he trailed off, and Duskflower was faintly aware of him exiting the den. Where does he think he's going?

"Eat this." Larkfeather mewed, pushing a bright red berry towards her mouth. She weakly lapped it up and swallowed it, wincing at the sharp taste.

After what seemed like an eternity, the last kit was born. He was smaller than his littermates, and seemingly weaker. Grasswhisker spent more time licking that one than the others, but she soon laid him down with his siblings.

"I'll bring Waspthorn," Larkfeather said. Duskflower was relieved it was over, but she wanted to sleep now.

Her mate burst into the den. "They're perfect!" He said more softly, seeing they were sleeping.

Duskflower purred, thought it was slightly forced.

"What should we name them?" Waspthorn whispered.

Duskflower huffed. "I just finished kitting them!" And naming them... that will make this even more real.

Her mate looked confused. "We should anyway."

"I guess."

Waspthorn looked her in the eye. "Look, I know you didn't always want kits. But you have to promise me that you will love them and take care of them."

Duskflower was unsettled that he could read her that easily. He's not wrong.

I should give them a chance. It wasn't their fault they weren't wanted.

But when she looked at them, all she could think was how they were going to ruin her life.

"I promise." She said quietly. "Good." Waspthorn mewed with a smile.

"I was thinking Bristlekit for the she-kit..." her mate began, but Duskflower was hardly listening.

I'm sorry, kits, she thought. But that was an empty promise.

* * *

Larkfeather watched the new family with joy, feeling proud of himself. It was only the second kitting he had handled by himself, and was happy to see both had went well though this one almost ended badly.

If only Lakebreeze was here to see it, he thought sorrowfully. She loved new kits.

He watched Duskflower through the den entrance, watching to see how she was doing. Then his eyes traveled downward to the kits, who were snuggled up into her warmth.

The first two were suckling heartily, eager to get to the milk. But the third, the one who had struggled being born, was mewing weakly and curled up by himself. Faintly worried, Larkfeather was about to step in to help it.

But the tom found his way toward the milk, and despite being smaller and weaker than the others fought his way for a spot.

Something like an echo of a prophecy sounded in his head. When the Clans are pulled into darkness, the one who comes from darkness will show them the light.

Is that the tom-kit? Larkfeather wondered. He came from darkness... almost dead before he was born.

Will he really bring the Clans into light? Larkfeather wondered. Perhaps he'll be leader one day, he thought with a soft chuckle.

"You have a great future ahead of you, little Blizzardkit." He murmured.