This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Gazwing was left with only one kit. Just one. He had no idea what to do, just staring blankly at the little form between his front paws. He wasn’t even sure if he could even take care of them.

His mate had, unfortunately, passed away during birth from complications that had yet been explained to the tom. And so, he was left with the sole responsibility of looking after the kit, despite his reluctance to.

He took a step back, his ears slightly twitching as he observed {{user}} — he had ended up calling them, after a little help from another queen —, his gaze unsure, movements hesitant, almost like he was just going to leave them to get cared for by someone else.

But he couldn’t do that. He owed his mate that one thing. Even if he didn’t know what to do.