Yellowkit watched wistfully as the hunting patrol left the camp. He desperately wanted to be able to become an apprentice so he could go outside, hunt for his clan, and fight for it too, if he needed to.

Alas, he was only a kit, and could not go outside.

Or could he?

There's no code for kits, only warriors, thought Yellowkit. Besides, I bet I could hunt some prey, and doesn't Voleclan need it, at this time in leaf-bare?

Yellowkit made up his mind. He was going outside.

He looked back at the nursery as he slipped through the dirtplace tunnel. His mother, Leafshine, was sleeping, and his sister, Brightkit, was happily playing with a moss-ball. The rest of the clan was too busy to care for one little kit, and were going about their daily lives, organizing patrols, sharing tongues, and doing their duties. Surely, he wouldn't be missed, and he would be back before they noticed.

Once Yellowkit stepped outside, he realized that it was cold. Not the chilly kind that gave him the shivers and forced him to go inside the nursery. No, this one was paw-numbing, bitter, icy, the kind that caused frost to form on Yellowkit's still-nursery-soft tabby coat, and made him stumble over the tiniest things. Yellowkit was beginning to regret his decision, but he told himself that he would catch something, preferably a fat, juicy vole, before he went back to camp.

A frigid breeze added to the chill, and Yellowkit found his tiny teeth chattering and his whole body trembling and shaking as he continued deeper into the woods. Maybe I should go back, he thought.

Yellowkit tried to find the path back to camp, but snow was falling and quickly covered up any fresh scents. All the trees and snow looked the same in every direction, and Yellowkit soon found himself panicking.

I'm lost!

The cold became worse. Yellowkit felt like a solid block of ice. He couldn't feel his paws, his whiskers held miniature icicles, and his fur was stiff and cold. His eyes were beginning to close, and he wanted to drift off to sleep, but he couldn't, the cold was so intense. The chill reached through his pelt and deep into his bones.

Yellowkit could feel the ice forming over him, and the piercing cold intensified. His paws were dragging against the frozen ground, and every one of his hairs were covered with frost.

Yellowkit then tripped over a tree root, and he fell to the ground and lay there, sprawled against the snow and ice. He made no effort to get back up, as it took too much strength. It was much easier to just lie there, cheek pressed against the pure white snow, fur blanketed in snowflakes, and hope that someone would come and rescue him.

And in a way, someone did. A warrior with the glimmer of frost in their fur and stars in their eyes padded out of the woods and sat directly in front of Yellowkit.

"It's okay to let go," the cat said. "You will be safe with me."

"Really?" Yellowkit's voice sounded weak and sluggish.

"Yes." The cat swept up Yellowkit with her tail.

Yellowkit looked up at the cat. "Where are we going?" he asked, and his voice sounded stronger, much stronger than before.

"Somewhere where you can be safe and happy." The cat licked the top of Yellowkit's head. "Now let's go."

Yellowkit couldn't help but feel a little anxious. "Is it warm?" he asked.

The cat purred. "Oh, Yellowkit, where we are going it is green-leaf all the time."

"Good. I've had enough of this cold."