// chapter 7 //

                                    

                                          
Shademask grunted awake at an urgent prodding. He had half a mind to snarl at whoever had woken him but, truthfully, was grateful for the interruption of the same dark dream that had been haunting him for nearly half a moon now. Upon looking up, he found Lightchaser staring down at him with a mixture of excitement and fear. Instantly, the tom was on his paws.
                          
	"What's happening?" he asked, following her out of the den into the moonlit camp. A shriek of pain quickly answered his question. The quick patter of paws caught his attention as Mothpelt streaked from the medicine den, the curtain of ivy covering the entrance swishing in her wake. Stormfall pelted after her.
                          
	The duo padded over to the nursery much more calmly, though Shademask's fur still stood on end as another cry escaped the den. Hanging back at the entrance, he saw Thistleshade sitting next to Rainheart grooming her fur in an effort to calm the birthing queen. Rainheart's scarred face was contorted in pure agony.
                          
	"Is she going to be okay?" Stormfall asked in a half-whisper as the grey she-cat let out another moan. His eyes were as round as the full moon.
                          
	Mothpelt pushed past him, attempting to get to her patient. "Yes, she will be. She's not the first to go through kit-birth, nor will she be the last." She placed a pile of herbs before the queen. "Lightchaser, pass me that stick over there."
                          
	The pale tortoiseshell obliged and Mothpelt passed the stick to Rainheart. "Bite down on it when the pain comes." The medicine cat pushed past Stormfall again to get to the pile of herbs she'd brought. The warrior stood frozen, staring at his mate.
                          
	Shademask took a step forward, placing a calm tail on his friend's shoulder. "Why don't we take a quick walk? It looks like Rainheart's well taken care of." Over Stormfall's shoulder he saw Mothpelt shoot him a grateful look.
                          
	Stormfall did not resist, nor did he agree. The darker tom had to all but drag him out of the nursery. He set their course for the camp exit – up the Fallen Tree and into the forest beyond. They did not speak as they padded over forest floor and clearings lit by the nearly full moon. Shademask kept his ears pricked, aware of Stormfall's heavy breathing.
                          
	Finally, the two toms halted before the river that marked the border between RockClan and MoorClan. The younger warrior's breathing had reached a new high and Shademask could hear it wheezing in and out of his throat. Unsure what to do, he just placed his tail on Stormfall's shoulders as the tom had done for him when he needed support.
                          
	"What if she dies?" The words came out of Stormfall so quickly Shademask nearly missed them. There was a moment of silence as he came up with a reply.
                          
	"She won't die. She's strong. If she can survive Dawnstar, she can survive anything."
                          
	Stormfall's racing heart slowed slightly. "But she's so young. Sometimes I wonder if this all happened too soon."
                          
	"You're young too," Shademask pointed out. "Neither of you have lived through two season cycles yet."
                          
	"That's what I'm saying," Stormfall replied. "What if I'm a terrible father? What if my kits hate us? What if they hate Rainheart?"
                          
	The black tom nearly snorted with laughter. "You're worried that your kits won't like you? Stormfall, you're probably the most likeable cat in the Clan, and one of the most responsible while we're at it. You'll make a great father, and Rainheart will be a wonderful mother."
                          
	The grey warrior fixed him with round amber eyes. "You really think so?"
                          
	Shademask nodded. "I know so."
                          
	Stormfall licked his chest fur down modestly. "Thanks."
                          
	They remained at the river's edge, looking up at the waxing moon and listening to Stormfall's heartbeat slow to its regular pace. When Shademask knew the tom was calm, he got to his paws.