His beautiful kits were growing strong, and growing up. A purr rose in the tom's throat at the very thought of Fogcreak's sweet kits and loving, most amazing mate in all of Shadowclan.

Blue eyes wondered to the sheltered den of the nursery in hopes to catch a glimpse of the lovely she cat, or the kits she had borne.

Rising to his paws, Fogcreak picked out a plump frog from the fresh-kill pile and trotted toward the nursery. I'll take this to Nightclaw, then I'd better get out of camp for a while with some warriors.