patrols
“Do you think Goldenflower will like this?” Tigerclaw asks, poking his mouse uncertainly. “I mean — it’s just a mouse.”
“Why are you so worried? You’re already her mate.” Whitestorm bumps shoulders with the tom. “She’ll like anything you catch her.”
Tigerclaw shakes his head. “What if it’s not enough? What if it’s not right? What if—”
“You’re going to drive yourself crazy. She’ll like it, and if she doesn’t, it’s not the end of the world.”
“I just…” Tigerclaw sighs. “I just want to be there for her. She raised Swiftpaw and Lynxtail all on her own, and they’re wonderful cats, but…I want to be there for her, properly. I want to show her I’ll make a good father.”
“And you will,” Whitestorm says. “But you won’t win yourself any favor by fretting. She’s got Speckletail looking out for her as it is. You just need to be a supportive mate. Which you are.”
“You’re younger than me, you know,” Tigerclaw says. “You’re not supposed to be smarter than me.”
Whitestorm chuffs. “Come on. Let’s catch up to the group before we scare all the prey away.”
