Rosethorn would never forget the frightened look that took over Willowstar's face. However, her father gave a stern look at her mother and she replied,

"W-well o-of course we can name one of my kits P-p-petalkit!"

Willowstar's frightened face was soon completely wiped off when she squeezed her eyes shut and her entire body tightened and she shuddered as she called to no one in particular,

"Get Rowangaze! Ouch! It hurts!"

Rosethorn internally rolled her eyes. Willowstar could be such an idiot at times. Surely it couldn't hurt that badly?

Cavestar rushed out of the den, the wind rushing through her fur and heard her father calling for the lead healer.

"Rosethorn? I'm going to ask you to leave. I will call you back when Willowstar has finished kitting. I don't think you're old enough to go through this...trauma yet," Cavestar meowed, ushering Rosethorn outside.

Rosethorn kept her mouth closed, although a part of her desperately wanted to complain.

You know, I'd rather stay quiet than to explain my problems to cats who don't care, the voice meowed.

Rosethorn stopped moving before giving a shocked mew,

"So are you saying my father doesn't care about me?" 

No, darling. I'm saying that you shouldn't express your problems to everyone. Not everyone who smiles at you is your friend. Some are just curious, the voice quickly corrected itself.

Rosethorn sat down and closed her eyes. She could hear Willowstar's yowls of pain and shuddered slightly. Whatever her mother was going through...well she didn't want to know now.

Breathe, my dear Rosethorn. Sometimes the most important thing in the entire day is the rest we take between two deep breaths, the voice instructed.

Rosethorn inhaled and the voice counted to three before she slowly let go of her breath.

"Rosethorn, my dear?" Cavestar asked, approaching her.

"Yes, father?" Rosethorn questioned back.

"Willowstar has had her kits and you can come in and name one of them," he curtly explained before leading Rosethorn into the Nursery.

Rosethorn's eyes landed on three kits nestled in the curve of Willowstar's belly. A faint scent of blood tainted each of them. The first kit was a white she-cat with ginger tabby and grey splotches. The second was a dark grey tom, a spitting image of his father and the third was a brown tabby she-cat like Rosethorn, except the kit had white socks.

"She," Rosethorn meowed, pointing her tail at the third kit, "will be named Petalkit."

Wise choice, young one, the voice approved.

Cavestar blinked and said,

"Oh, definitely! What do you think, Willowstar?"

Rosethorn's mother nodded and said in a quiet voice,

"Of course."

"I was thinking Mothkit for the other she-cat and Darkkit for the tom?" her father asked, tilting his head slightly as if to gain her approval.

Rosethorn nodded. However, she was not pleased. More kits meant more challengers for her Crown Heir position.