Chapter 1
It was the dead of leafbare. Snow was falling down in large flakes, covering the streets and houses with a thick white blanket. The sky was a gloomy gray, with no signs of the sun. The streets were isolated, for everyone was at home, warming themselves up and trying to thaw their frozen feet. Every now and then, a lone wind moaned, aching for a companion in the frostbitten world.
A tom trudged through the Twolegplace. He was gray, with amber eyes. His ears were scarred and most of his whiskers were torn off. His ragged fur blew in the harsh wind like patchy grass. His tail whipped around, as if lifeless.
Indeed, the tom didn't look very attractive, with his many scars and ungroomed fur. Yet, in the past, he could recall what he used to look like: a sly smile, bright and alert eyes, with fur so sleek you could see your reflection in it. But those days were long gone.
The cat struggled through the thick snow, cursing every now and then when his paws slipped. "Drat this snow," he muttered under his breath. A wind tugged at him, and he hissed in annoyance.
The cold came at him and gnawed at his bones. He shivered. Somewhere far back in his memory, he remembered sleeping curled up with his Clanmates, warm and with his belly full. No, he thought sharply, narrowing his eyes. Don't think about that. Don't think of the Clans ever again.
He paused and stared up at the sky. It was still a cloudy gray. He felt sadness deep in his heart, but quickly shrugged it away.
"Mew."
The tom suddenly pricked his ears up and quickly spun around. Was there another cat here? There was nothing but the snow and the Twoleg dens. But wait….
There was something small lying in the ground. The cat's stomache rumbled. Maybe it was prey. Slowly, he began to creep toward it, and was just about to pounce when….he realized that it wasn't prey. It was a kit, and a pretty tiny one at that. In fact, it was about the size of a rat. Its dirt-brown fur was thin, and it shivered with the cold. It looked up at the tom with the blue-est eyes he had ever seen.
The tom snorted and turned away. He already had difficulty catching enough food for himself. He didn't need a kit to get in his way.
But…
He looked back. The kit was still staring at him with those deep blue eyes. The kit shivered again and closed them, wrapping his tail around his small form. The snowflakes fell softly on his fur.
The tom sighed. He couldn't just leave the kit there to die. Bramblestar would be ashamed of him if he had found out he did that.
The tom winced. Don't think about Bramblestar. Don't think about the past. It's over with them.
He padded over to the kit and gently poked it with a paw. The kit let out a barely inaudible mew and curled up tighter. The older cat sighed. He leaned down and grasped the kit by the scruff of its neck. It let out a squeak and tried to wriggle free. He mumbled around the scruff, "Calm down, kit. I'm taking you home with me." The kit's ears pricked up, and then it lay still. The cat was surprised at how thin it was. It was nothing but fur and bones. He padded through the silent, empty streets, and closed his eyes to the feel of the wind brushing through his fur.
And that's the first chapter, folks. I'll be continuing the story.