He returns with freebies [Open]

The remaining two kits, it was safe to say, did not look like him. One was a long furred black she-kit, and the other was a grey tabby tom-kit, they would be safe to raise in the clan. He knew that he'd never be a father to them, at best, he would be a distant uncle figure, but to have beat having none. He would look after these two and never forget what crime he had committed.

Carrying them both by the scruff, Gorsefeather entered into camp with the pair. His first stop was to the nursery, ducking his head in to see if any queens were free to nurse them. He placed the two on the warm burrow lined with moss and feather, a welcome relief from the icy winds they'd encountered on their journey. He'd been half-afraid they would freeze to death before coming here. "I hope I'm not intruding. These kits need a mother, they look as though they haven't drunk milk in a while. Could you perhaps feed them?"

He awaited the inevitable outpour of questions, but hoped that any of the queens in the nursery would accept the two bundles of fur into their litter.

Swallowkit mewled as he was put down, curling up against his sister

The small kit waved her head up and down, her bushy tail wrapped around her, small mews could be heard but her eyes remained shut, unaware of the surrounding situation.

Everything that could have gone wrong had taken a turn for the worst. The she-cat had initially been so happy to have kits of her own, even without the tom being too interested in their existence. It didn't matter to her, all that mattered was the fact that she would have kits, her own family that would soothe the hole left by her near and dear brother, Pinedusk. But StarClan was cruel, her kits died soon after they were born, too weak and feeble to survive. Pinekit, Sorrelkit, and Nettlekit, all dead. Saltpelt had been near inconsolable as she remained limply in her nursery nest that had been lined with feathers for the occasion.

No one had the heart to ask her to vacant it.

As Gorsefeather addressed the queens in the nursery, she'd been looking off blankly at the dirt walls when the gentle mewing of the kits aroused her from her wooden state. "Who are you, little one?" She asked rhetorically, not really expecting an answer from the small kits.

Gorsefeather's breath caught in his chest. Guilt welled up in his chest, the queen had clearly given birth but there were no kits to show for it. This was where he should have been, aiding queens like Saltpelt. Emberleaf was more than capable, but he couldn't banish the thought that perhaps if he'd been there, another paw to help, things would have been different. "They're rogue kits, I helped one of them give birth, but the she-cat died. They need a mother. The father had no interest in raising them."

Saltpelt, not noticing the look of guilt in the old calico's eyes, fawned over the little kits, her eyes only taking on a flinty look at the mention of the tom abandoning the kits. She didn't need to hear anything else, she had plenty of milk from the loss of her own kits and her heart ached for the family she never got to raise. She would raise these little kits, there was no questions needed further. "They have a mother. I will raise them as my own."

Seeing the ferocity in her eyes, Gorsefeather knew she was the one. "Thank you, Saltpelt. And... I'm sorry for your loss." He truly was, more sorry than she'd ever know.

"You're thanking me? Are hare's flying? That's not like you, Gorsefeather." Saltpelt joked, leaning over to pick up kit by kit and place them near her belly to suckle. "It's okay... I'll live... Now, about these two, do they have names?"

"No. The rogue didn't manage to name them."

"Well." The she-cat began, looking down at the two kits. "I like Leafkit for the she-cat. She's so quiet, yet her presence is undeniable. Like a leaf in the wind, you don't hear it, but you certainly see it. That doesn't make any sense, does it."

Gorsefeather was nodded along absently with the queen's rambles when the name triggered a memory in his mind. The young bud of green sprouting from the burnt gorse, what this a proph- No. It couldn't. The calico forced down that thought, instead purring encouragingly to distract himself. "That sounds like an excellent name. What about the tom?"

"Hm. Swallowkit. His white underbelly is so distinct, it reminds me of them. And look at his little paws, I bet he'll make an excellent rabbit hunter in the future. As swift as a swallow." She nuzzled the kits, curling her tail over her forepaws to keep them extra warm and chase off the last of the moor chills. Saltpelt had only known them for a short while, but the bonding process had already begun. She already saw them as her kits.

Gorsefeather watched wistfully at the sight, knowing that he was severing his connection to his final kits in this moment. "Fine names. I'm sure they'll grow to be proud warriors... I'll send Emberleaf along with borage later, but for now, I'll leave you alone now to be with them." With that, he back-peddled out of the nursery to leave the queen with her newly adopted kits. It was surprisingly difficult. He'd thought abandoning kit after kit would have made things easier, but instead, he felt it weigh heavier on him with every one lost. "May StarClan guide all of their paths. Please."

tldr: Saltpelt adopted the kits and named them.

Swallowkit mewled and struggled around as he was picked up but then quieted down when he was set down next to a warm belly. The little silver tabby started to suckle.

Leafkit slept quietly as she was pressed against her new mother, Saltpelt, twitching in her sleep.

The small gray tom named Duskkit slept noisily in his nest, not aware of the conversation going on.

Nodding and seeing Gorsefeather out, Saltpelt let them suckle, gently grooming them with long rasps of her tongue. They were beautiful, and she swore that she'd raise them properly, make them fine warriors that would be loyal to WindClan. Blood didn't matter, they were her kits now. "Good night, sweetlings."