I don't own Warriors. This is just what I think what happened between Nightcloud and Crowfeather since I strongly don't think Crowfeather is Breezepelt's father.

"Crowfeather," Ashfoot, deputy of WindClan, called out to her son. The grey-black warrior, not expecting it, whipped his head around to face her. "Nightcloud wants to see you. You should keep your voice down though, she has just given birth."

Crowfeather's blue eyes narrowed. "Why does she want to see me?" he half hissed half asked. "She should be asking her mate to see her, not me."

"I don't know, son," Ashfoot told him. "Go see her and find out."

Grumblingly, the tom accepted and entered the nursery. Ashfoot was deeply concerned about her son, after he returned from a failed attempt at run away with ThunderClan's medicine cat he had changed. She was about to follow him in when she was stopped by their conversation starting without her.

"What do you want?" Crowfeather growled at the black queen. He had never liked her and after her siding with Mudclaw, he dislike her even more. The warrior almost did not notice a black ball of fluff sleeping at the queen's belly.

"I have a proposition for you," Nightcloud meowed to him.

"And what is it?"

"Claim this kit as your own son and take me on as your mate," the queen told him.

"Why should I do that?" hissed Crowfeather.

"Because WindClan will trust you again after seeing that you have mated with a WindClan cat," Nightcloud told him.

Crowfeather narrowed his blue eyes, considering. The bundle stirred and blinked open two amber eyes. "Who's the father?"

"It's not important," Nightcloud said hurriedly.

"Tell me or no deal."

"Mudclaw, Mudclaw was his father," Nightcloud admitted.

There was a long silence as Crowfeather watched the black kit as he thought. "Fine."

"You'll do it?"

"Yes, but don't expect me to be a loving mate or father," Crowfeather hissed and turned to leave the den.

"Thank you," Nightcloud mewed, but it fell of deaf ears.

Back outside the nursery Ashfoot's eyes widened at what she had just heard. If she had not just heard it, she would never have believed it. She was not grandmother, but her son had fallen again. And this time she was not sure if anyone could pull him back up, not even the two she-cats, Feathertail and Leafpool, that he had loved.