The nursery was quiet in the way only very young kits allowed it to be—warm, close, filled with the faint scent of milk and moss. Outside, ThunderClan camp moved along as usual, paws brushing earth, voices low and familiar. No one paid the nursery a second glance.

Inside, Fireheart sat stiffly in a nest that very clearly was not made for a full-grown warrior. His tail was curled awkwardly around his paws, ears twitching every time the moss shifted beneath him.

Nestled against his chest were Bluestar’s kits—three tiny bundles of silver-gray and blue, their eyes still sealed shut, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. They were far too small to wander, barely able to lift their heads without toppling over. One of them let out a soft, squeaking mewl and blindly pressed closer to Fireheart’s warmth.

Fireheart froze.

“…Easy,” he murmured, lowering his head just a fraction. His voice came out softer than he expected. “I’m here.”

He hadn’t questioned Bluestar when she’d quietly told him to stay in the nursery while she attended Clan matters. She hadn’t explained why—only that the kits needed someone steady, someone who wouldn’t leave. And Fireheart, loyal as ever, hadn’t thought to refuse.

Still, the weight of responsibility settled heavily in his chest.

One kit wriggled, tiny paws kneading at the fur of his foreleg. Another shifted closer, their breathing warm and uneven. Fireheart carefully adjusted his position, making sure none of them slipped from the nest, his movements slow and deliberate—terrified he might hurt them without meaning to.

“They don’t even know who I am,” he thought quietly. And they shouldn’t have to.

Outside the nursery, a patrol passed. Laughter drifted in briefly, then faded. ThunderClan carried on, unaware—unquestioning.

Fireheart glanced toward the nursery entrance, where Bluestar’s silhouette briefly appeared, her blue eyes unreadable as she looked in. Their gazes met for only a heartbeat. No words were exchanged. None were needed.

Fireheart straightened just a little, squaring his shoulders despite the cramped nest.

I’ll keep them safe, he promised silently. As long as they need me.

One of the kits let out a tiny, contented chirr and fell asleep again, pressed against his chest.

Fireheart didn’t move.