One stormy night the queens were away, so old Yellowfang had to mind the kits. She curled up in the nursery and shut her eyes. "Go to sleep!" she grumbled.
BOOM went the thunder. Three kits squeaked and dived into Yellowfang's fur, all at once. "Go to sleep!" said Yellowfang, from underneath them.
"Tell us a story," said Cloudkit. "No stories," said Yellowfang. "Go to sleep!"
Brightkit wanted to count the lightning. Thornkit wanted to count the raindrops. Cloudkit wanted to see the storm, just for one tiny moment.
Yellowfang thought about her poppy seeds. One seed would send any cat to sleep. But they were far too strong for kits, so she left them where they were.
Then she saw a white tail vanish out of the den. Yellowfang leaped up, faster than any old cat should, and carried Cloudkit back by his scruff, dripping wet.
She licked him dry, very hard. Then she sighed. "When I was a kit," she said, "I hid under my mother's tail every time it thundered." Three pairs of ears came up.
So Yellowfang told a story after all. Outside, the thunder rumbled further and further away. Her voice got slower, and slower, and slower.
And then a loud snore filled the nursery. Yellowfang had fallen asleep first.
The kits pulled soft moss over her paws. "Go to sleep," whispered Cloudkit. Then they curled up against her, warm and dry, and the rain went quiet.
