Chapter 14

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His heart thudding, Sandstorm looked from Silverstream to Graystripe. She quivered with happiness, her yellow eyes glowing with pride. "Your kits?" he echoed in alarm. "Are you both out of your minds? This is disastrous!"

Silverstream blinked and would not meet his friend's eyes. "Not... not necessarily. I mean, these kits will join us together forever."

"But you come from different Clans!" Sandstorm protested. From the uneasiness in Silverstream's expression, he guessed that his friend knew very well what difficulties the kits would cause. "You can't ever claim these kits as your own, Silverstream. And Graystripe," he added, turning toward the Riverclan cat, "you won't be able to tell anyone in your Clan who the father is."

"I don't care," Graystripe insisted, giving her chest fur a quick lick. "I'll know. That's all that matters."

Silverstream looked as if he wasn't too sure of that. "It's stupid that they can't know," he muttered. "We haven't done anything to be ashamed of." He pressed himself against Graystripe's flank and shot Sandstorm a helpless glance.

"I know that's what you feel," Sandstorm agreed heavily. "But it's no good, Silverstream, you know it isn't. These will be Riverclan kits." His heart sank at the thought of the trouble this could cause in the future. When these its grew to be warriors, Silverstream might have to fight against them! He would be torn between loyalty to his blood kin, and loyalty to his Clan and the warrior code. Sandstorm could not see any way for him to keep faith with both.

Had it been the same with Blackclaw and Stonefur? he wondered. Had their Thunderclan parents ever had to fight against them? He remembered Bluefur, trying to defend them from Thunderclan attacks; how had the Riverclan warrior explained that to them? It was an impossible situation, and now it would all begin again with a new set of kits.

But Sandstorm knew it was pointless to say this now. Glancing up and down the line of bushes in case any cat was approaching, he meowed, "It's time we were going. It must be sunhigh. They'll miss us back at camp."

Silverstream touched his nose gently to Graystripe's. "Sandstorm's right," he murmured. "We must go. And don't worry," he added. "They'll be the most beautiful kits in the forest."

Graystripe's eyes narrowed with affection, and her voice came in a deep purr. "I know. We'll find a way to get through this." She stood watching as Sandstorm and Silverstream left the bushes and padded down the slope toward the flooded river. Silverstream kept looking back, as if he could hardly bear to leave her.

Sandstorm felt as if he were carrying a cold, heavy stone in his chest. How long can this go on, he wondered, before some cat finds out?


He was still feeling weighted down with anxiety as they crossed the tree trunk and went back into Thunderclan territory, though he tried hard to push the problem out of his mind. Right now it was more important to decide what to say if any cat had noticed their absence.

"I think we should hunt for a bit," he told Silverstream. "Then at least—"

An excited meow from the edge of the forest interrupted him. "Sandstorm! Sandstorm!"

Sandstorm stared in disbelief as a small white and ginger body crashed out of the bracken at the edge of the trees. Brightkit!

"Oh, mouse dung!" muttered Silverstream.

Sandstorm padded across the grass, his heart sinking. "Brightkit, what are you doing here?" he demanded. "I told you to stay in the nursery."

"I tracked you," Brightkit announced proudly. "All the way from camp."

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