Weevilfleck had become more and more prone to wandering as the clan settled more into their home. Grousestar hardly could stop the old tom. She had dragged him into this after all, but the elder hardly seemed bothered by it. Yet it was hard for her to not notice how restless he sometimes was. No cat could've predicted that the former deputy would return from one of his wanderings with a kit in tow. The elder looked almost sheepish as stepped into camp with the oddly quiet bundle of fur being held gingerly by his scruff.
"Weevil, what-?" Grousestar was equal parts confused and concerned. "Who's this lil' guy?" Sable purred as he peered down at the little brown spotted kit whom glanced around the cavern with wide eyes, shuffling closer to Weevilfleck's leg to escape prying eyes.
"Kestrelkit," Weevilfleck answered, a proud purr rumbling in his chest. "He's mine." "Where is his mother?" Cliffpelt pressed, voice detached and cold as he stepped from his spot at the healer's den. "You can't just disappear and then bring a kit here with no explanation." "Cliffpelt." Grousestar bristled, her tail lashed as her green eyes met Cliffpelt's icy gaze. "Weevil doesn't owe us an explanation."
"We need more warriors. Not more mouths to feed." "And what makes you an expert?" "E-Enough. Does it really matter?" Sable stepped between the two, voice wavering. The tension between the leader and the healer could've been cut with an unsheathed claw. Weevilfleck was silent at the confrontation, tail curling around Kestrelkit protectively. "A kitten will hardly upset the balance here and Kestrel will learn well to help the clan as he ages." The old tom bent down and licked the top of the small kit's head. Cliffpelt's eyes narrowed, but he was silent, turning away and stalking back to the healer's den.