Cragkit snuggled close to Strikefeather's soft belly, his nose buried in her warm, milk-scented fur. A gentle purr thrummed in his chest at the steady beat of his mother's heart, shrouding him in happiness and comfort.

    His bliss was shattered in an instant as claws began to pummel his belly.

    "Strikefeather!" Cragkit wailed, his amber eyes flashing with dismay. He squirmed to escape the writhing black shape beside him. "Nightkit's clawing at me again!"

    A grunt expelled from Strikefeather's chest, and her feathery tail drew up between the two kittens. Nightkit's squirming subsided, and Cragkit's fright calmed as his mother's rough tongue rasped between his ears. "Another nightmare, Nightkit?" Strikefeather mumbled sleepily, turning to address the other tom.

    "Yeah!" Nightkit nodded earnestly, blinking the sleep from his eyes. "This time, I dreamed that Cragkit looked at me. It was horrible!"

    Strikefeather, though sluggish with exhaustion, gently cuffed the little black tom over the ears. "That's no way to speak about your brother."

    "But it's true! He looks like a cat with a mouse's face!"

    Cragkit scowled, flipping around to perch his paws on Strikefeather's tail. "Do not."

    Nightkit thrust his muzzle in Cragkit's face. "Do too!"

    Cragkit uttered a wordless growl, and instead of arguing any further, he squirmed back into the nook of Strikefeather's belly and buried his nose into her sweet-smelling fur. His body relaxed under her warmth, and darkness began to creep up behind his eyelids.

    Then, something fuzzy and heavy thumped onto his back.

    "Nightkit!" Cragkit cried. He flipped around with a hiss and kicked angrily at Nightkit's side, pushing his brother away as the black tom pealed with laughter.

    As soon as he was free of Cragkit's hold, Nightkit whirled around and launched himself at Cragkit. Cragkit rolled back into Strikefeather's belly with a squeak, squirming to escape as Nightkit began pummeling his face with his prickly kit-claws.

    "Kits, that's enough!" Strikefeather rose abruptly to her paws, sending the two tom-kits rolling. They stared up at her with wide, scared eyes once they'd settled. "Go and play in camp with the other kits," she growled, her eyes weary. "I'm too tired to deal with your nonsense today."

    "But Strikefeather," Cragkit protested feebly. "I'm tired, too!"

    "You should've thought of that before you fought with Nightkit," Strikefeather scolded softly. She leaned forward and gingerly pressed her nose between his ears, then turned and did the same to his brother. "Now, run along and play. Be sure to stay in sight of the camp."

    She flicked her gray tail, lightly brushing the two along. Cragkit stumbled over his sleepy paws, reluctant to move, but he gave himself an urgent shake to bring life to his body. With a scowl at Nightkit, he turned tail and scampered from the den before he could be lectured more.

    Bright sunlight sparkled into the ravine and warmed his gray fur. It was hot and dry, but a cool breeze flooded through the cracks and prickled against his skin.

    Cats milled about the camp, occupied with their own business. Some were sunbathing or sharing tongues, others were repairing dens, and the rest were fetching fresh-kill to eat and relax in the green-leaf sun. Much to Cragkit's delight, he realized that a few warriors were even bringing a fresh haul of prey to the pile.

    Sticking his tail high in the air behind him, he bounded across the clearing to where Bumbledusk and Grassystep were dragging a massive lump of gray fur across the earth.

    "What is that?" He cried, prancing around the paws of the warriors. He leaned in to give the strange animal a sniff, before darting away and sniffing it from a new angle.

    Grassystep dropped the fuzzy tail with an amused purr. "It's a squirrel."

    Cragkit's eyes gleamed. "Can I try a bite?"

    Bumbledusk and Grassystep exchanged uncertain glances. "You're too small to eat meat yet," Bumbledusk meowed. "Maybe in a quarter-moon or so, once your mother says it's okay."

    "But I am big enough!" Cragkit argued.

    A shadow fell across the ground. "No, you're not."

    Cragkit turned with wide eyes to see Stumpwhisker staring down at him. The medicine cat's golden eyes were hard to see, and his figure was silhouetted by the afternoon sun. His twisted whiskers shivered slightly as a gentle breeze brushed through them.

    "Oh," Cragkit squeaked, taking a frightened step back. "Okay!"

    With fear twisting beneath his pelt, he backed quickly away from the warriors and medicine cat. He gulped and scampered off to find Nightkit again. Stumpwhisker was terrifying!

    He found his brother wrestling with Hollykit, Fleckkit, and Cardinalkit. Behind them, the litter's beautiful russet mother, Vixensong, watched the four with her bright fox-yellow eyes. Occasionally, her gaze would flick attentively to Cragkit.

    As he padded over to join the rest of the kits, he wondered absently where Cricketkit and Goosekit were. They were usually around camp somewhere, but he was yet to see them. Shaking out his pelt, Cragkit pushed the thought away.

    Hollykit was the first to notice him. With an eager gasp, she shoved Cardinalkit away with a mighty kick of her hind paws and shook out her red fur.

    "Hi, Cragkit!" She mewled, swishing her bushy tail around behind her. "Do you want to play Warrior with us?"

    Cragkit beamed. "Of course I do!"

    "Right! Then I'll be Hollystar, and you can be my deputy."

    "No, I'm Clan leader," Cardinalkit argued.

    "And I'm the deputy," Nightkit added, puffing out his chest angrily.

    Hollykit tilted her head. "Why don't we lead different Clans, then?"

    Nightkit peeled back his lip. "If that's the case, we're ThunderClan."

    Hollykit's tail lashed. "That's not fair. We're ThunderClan."

    As the three kits bore down on each other, Cragkit's mind swirled. "Well, why don't we have two leaders and two deputies?" He suggested.

    The quartet of kits turned to stare at him. Fleckkit lifted a paw and tapped Cragpaw on the nose with a quiet shake of his head.

    "That's not how things work, mouse-brain," Nightkit snapped matter-of-factly. "Clans can only have one leader, one deputy, and one medicine cat."

    The black tom wiggled his haunches and sprang. Cragkit cried out in surprise as he was tackled to the ground. Kicking fiercely, he managed to throw Nightkit off, only to turn and find Cardinalkit digging his sharp kit-claws into his fur.

    Cragkit yowled, "Get off me!"

    "No, ShadowClan warrior! You're in our territory!" The smaller red tom crowed as Fleckkit joined him in the assault.

    Hollykit lunged forward and sank her claws into Cardinalkit's scruff, hauling him away. Fleckkit squealed and scampered back before his sister could grab him, too.

    "Come on, you mange-pelts," Hollykit snapped. "This isn't fair."

    "Hollykit!"

    Hollykit flattened her ears at her mother's stern tone.

    "Watch your tongue. Who taught you language like that?" The red queen narrowed her eyes sternly at the red she-kit.

    "Amberclaw," Hollykit replied simply. "He said I can call Cardinalkit that when he's being a fox-heart." She twitched her tail with a defiant perk of her ears.

    "Quit using language like that. Cardinalkit, play nicely," she chastised, flicking her thick tail.

    "It's Cardinalstar," the tom argued. "Leaders don't take orders from their mothers."

    Vixensong fixed the little tom with a frown, mouth parted for a scolding, but a shrill wail interrupted her.

    "My kits!" Leafear scampered over to Vixensong, her eyes round with alarm. "Vixensong, my kits are missing again!"

    Vixensong's hackles raised. "Again? Leafear, you need to keep a better eye on those two." She glanced back at the five kits, who had clustered quietly together to watch the scene. "You lot, stay together and don't leave the camp. If you do, you'll be stuck in the nursery for the next moon."

    Cragkit shuffled his paws as the russet queen gently slid her tail along Leafear's side. "Don't worry, we'll find them. Where did you see them last?"

    They jogged quickly away, towards the dirtplace.

    Once they were out of earshot, Nightkit glanced at his denmates. "Let's play Fox Hunt!"

    Excitement spurred in Cragkit's gut. "I call being a Warrior!"

    "Me, too!"

    "And me!"

    "That settles it, then," Nightkit purred. "Fleckkit, you're going to be the Fox."

    Fleckkit wordlessly frowned, before bobbing his head and lying on the ground. He placed his paws over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut.

    Cragkit glanced around as his denmates scampered through the ravine. Various dens rose around them, and he spotted a screen of ferns draping over a yawning cavern. Flicking his tail, he trotted eagerly in its direction.

    "Where are you going, Cragkit?"

    Cragkit blinked over at Nightkit as the dark tom hurried by his side, amber eyes round with curiosity.

    "Over there," he meowed, nodding towards the fern screen.

    "Are we even allowed to go in there?" Nightkit tilted his head, his paws stumbling here and there as he struggled to keep up with his brother's brisk pace.

    "Of course we are," Cragkit huffed. "It's part of the camp, isn't it?"

    "I guess so..." Nightkit trailed off, focusing instead on placing one paw in front of the other.

    The two kits faltered to a stop as the screen of ferns befell them. Cragkit stared up at the swaying plants, awe swelling in his chest. Without another word, he gently nudged the screen aside and peered into the darkness of the den.

    The air was musty. It was filled to the brim with sharp and sweet smells, all mingled together in a chaotic cacophony. Cragkit wrinkled his nose, but curiosity guided his paws as he weaseled inside. Nightkit poked his head past the sheet of ferns, golden eyes bright with curious excitement.

    "Wow!" The little black tom mewed in awe. "This has to be Ripestar's den, right?"

    "I guess so," Cragkit breathed. He padded forward, his gray tail high above his spine. "What are these?" He wondered, scampering over to the furthermost corner of the den.

    Drawn out across a stone shelf was a wide variety of leaves, roots, and flowers. He perched his paws on the side and sniffed at them. Each plant had its own unique smell that swelled in his lungs. Some were bitter, some were bland, and some were so sweet, his mouth wouldn't stop watering.

    "I dare you to try one." Nightkit peeked over Cragkit's shoulders.

    "Which one?" Cragkit muttered thoughtfully.

    "That one," Nightkit swished his tail to a clump of roots.

    Cragkit leaned forward and sniffed it. "Ew, seriously? That's the stinkiest one!"

    Nightkit bared his teeth in a grin. "Exactly."

    "I'll only eat it if you do, too," Cragkit declared, glaring at his brother.

    "That's fine. I'm not a coward!" Nightkit skipped over and wolfed down a large clump of the smelly roots, twisting his muzzle as he struggled to tear through the tough material. He gagged when he finally swallowed. "Gross!"

    Cragkit purred in amusement and drew a paw up to the cluster of roots. He dragged a small pawful back and nibbled on it. A bitter taste swam over his tastebuds, sticky on his tongue. Cringing, he took a larger bite, crunching it roughly between his teeth, and swallowed. It struggled to claw its way down his throat, but he forced it past the urge to gag.

    "I did it," he mewed, scrunching his nose as the thick stem finally settled.

    He sniffed around and caught the fresh smell of water. He hurried over to a small stream that wove through the cracks in the floor. He lowered his head and lapped some up, washing away the revolting flavor of the roots. He sighed in relief.

    He glanced over to see that Nightkit had joined him, licking fat droplets of water from his whiskers.

    Suddenly, the ferns rustled.

    The two kits exchanged a horrified look. Cragkit frantically glanced around. "Over here!" He hissed, spotting a nook in the wall.

    The two kits scampered over, diving between the large slabs of stone just in time as Stumpwhisker slipped into the den. Cragkit's tiny body was pressed tightly up against Nightkit's. He could feel the pattering of his brother's heart.

    Confusion stirred uncomfortably in Cragkit's gut as he watched through bated breath. Why was Stumpwhisker in there if it was Ripestar's den? As Cragkit watched the medicine cat hurry about the den, his mottled brown fur ruffled with worry, he realized with a start that they were not in the leader's den.

    "This isn't Ripestar's den," he whispered urgently to Nightkit, whose face matched Cragkit's expression of horror. "This is Stumpwhisker's!"

    "Be quiet," Nightkit hissed, wrapping his paws around Cragkit's muzzle.

    The two watched, holding their breath as Stumpwhisker lowered his nose to the ground. Quickly, the tom explored the display of herbs. He gave the roots a rudimentary sniff.

    Stumpwhisker's eyes turned to the nook that the kits were hiding inside of. They narrowed sharply.

    "Oh no," Cragkit breathed in horror.

    The medicine cat marched to the crack and scooped a paw inside. Cragkit and Nightkit squealed in fright as he hooked his paw around them and pulled them out. Cragkit wriggled indignantly, his stomach churning in distress.

    "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry," the kit wailed, squirming beneath the medicine cat's fierce hold of his scruff.

    Suddenly, his twisting stomach cramped violently and a rush of acrid liquid surged up his throat. Cragkit retched. The contents of his stomach spilled out on the floor before him.

    Stumpwhisker dropped the kits as together, they poured their stomachs onto the floor.

    "What were you thinking?" Stumpwhisker snarled, staring angrily at the two kits. Lashing his tail, the tom stormed towards the slab and grabbed a mouthful of moss. He used it to wipe up the vomit.

    Cragkit trembled. His throat felt raw and gross, and the awful flavor of stomach acid wouldn't flee his mouth. Suddenly, he heaved again.

    Cragkit moaned in pain as he crumpled to the floor. Stumpwhisker's large paw gently stroked his back with surprising gentleness given how stormy his eyes were. A cat brushed into the den and froze at the scene.

    "Gorsefur," Stumpwhisker acknowledged bitterly. "Please let Strikefeather know that her kits got into the burdock root. They'll be sick for a little while, and I need to keep an eye on them."

    Gorsefur blinked in astonishment at the retching kittens. "Y-Yes, I'll go do that," she stammered with a swish of her tail. The gray warrior quickly fled.

    Cragkit flattened his ears against his skull. Strikefeather would be furious, he realized as he heaved again.

    The two kits were stuck in the medicine den for what felt like moons. Cragkit was shivering with distress and pain while Stumpwhisker rushed back and forth with bundles of moss. Rather than cleaning the floor, the medicine cat now focused on hydrating the two kits, dipping the moss into the little stream. Every chance he got, Cragkit lapped up the cool, soothing liquid.

    "Th-Thank you," the gray kit managed to squeak out.

    Stumpwhisker huffed, clearly unamused. "Don't eat my herbs again, unless I tell you to," was all he said with a lash of his tail.

    Finally, Cragkit's stomach seemed to ease. He sat there, shivering, for long-lasting heartbeats until he realized that it was finally over. He licked his dry lips and sighed in relief. He glanced over to Nightkit, who wasn't so fortunate.

    Stumpwhisker hurried back with another bundle of moss and dropped it at Cragkit's paws. Cragkit eagerly drank it. Once he was finished, he blinked slowly up at Stumpwhisker.

    "I think... I think it's over now," he mewed shakily.

    Sumpwhisker placed a careful paw on Cragkit's side, feeling his stomach.

    "You're right. Though, I'd suggest you stay in here in case it makes a fuss again. I already let your mother know that you'll be spending the night."

    Cragkit blinked. "Can I sit in a nest?" He mewed softly. His paws ached from resting on the hard, cold earth, and he just wanted to curl up in a pool of soft moss.

    Stumpwhisker passed a wad of water-soaked moss to Nightkit. Wordlessly, he scooped Cragkit into his jaws. The kit dangled by his scruff as the medicine cat padded over to a nest made of bracken and moss, before dropping the kit into the fluffy material.

    Cragkit purred his thanks, curling deep into the soft substance with a breath of relief. He relaxed marginally, his drooping eyes straying over to his brother, who still retched and heaved. Sympathy welled in his chest at the sight, and he turned his eyes away.

    Eventually, Cragkit slipped off to sleep, his body worn down from his sickliness.