This is a challenge for CloudClan.
Note: I will be doing this in three parts, so as to not have one really long document.
. . .
Part One
The sun beat down on them all mercilessly, but the wind that accompanied the heat was a more than welcome addition.
Amidst the chatter of cats as they went about their daily activities, the squeals of kits could be heard. There was a group of them running around, tails raised and excited, happy mews echoing.
Two kits were rolling a ball of moss around, pressing it into the ground with the strength of a newly minted apprentice. Across from the pair, another kit was watching them fixedly, a tiny frown curling at her lips.
Steeling her resolve, she called, "Hey, pass it over here!"
One of the kits, a dark brown tabby tom, looked up. He looked confused at the abrupt interruption, but when he seemed to note who he was gazing at, his narrow, pointed kit features curled into a sneer. It severely distorted his young, youthful face, and anyone who laid eyes on him quickly looked away.
"No!" he spat with surprising venom. "If I pass it to you, then you'll just infect it!"
The she-cat flinched as if struck, her vision blurring. She clenched her jaw, looking down and pressing her paws into the ground. "D-Don't be so mean," she murmured, her gaze fixed firmly on her paws.
The other kit, a dappled, light-brown she-cat, glared reproachfully at the tom. "Yeah!" she cried. "Stop being so mean to Frostkit, Cedarkit!"
Frostkit felt her heart bleeding in surprise- normally it was Cloverkit who teased her, the dappled she-kit's brother watching on the sidelines, and offering the occasional jeering comment.
"Or what?" Cedarkit taunted, a nasty little smile playing at his lips.
Cloverkit didn't even hesitate. "Or I'll tell Blossomcloud," she threatened, her voice eerily calm.
Frostkit winced in sympathy- the two kits' mother, Blossomcloud, was truly a sight when she was enraged and, like many of the other cats in the Clan, disapproved of the nursery kits' treatment of Frostkit and her brother, Dewkit.
Frostkit knew the story so well that she could recite it word for word as it had been told so many times that even the younger kits- who were only four moons old- could understand the basic gist of it.
Moons before Frostkit and her brother had been born, the previous ThunderClan deputy, Snowfoot, had met a young RiverClan warrior by the name of Pebblefur, and he had consequently fallen in love with her. Not even three moons after the pair had met, Pebblefur had announced that she had been expecting kits.
Naturally, Snowfoot had been torn- that is, torn between loyalty for his Clan and love for his RiverClan mate. Their final meeting in secret hadn't ended well.
Once they were safely ensconced away in a small clearing away from prying eyes, it was there that Pebblefur began her kitting. And to top everything off, Snowfoot and his mate faced another misfortune- the confrontation between leader and deputy.
Cinderstar had found the pair that fateful day, and it was only by sheer luck that the ThunderClan medicine cat apprentice, Mosslight, happened to be with them. She delivered two kits that day- Frostkit and her brother, Dewkit.
It was also that very reason that she and her brother were mocked so much.
They were half-RiverClan.
And Frostkit hated it.
She hated it so much.
She hated the glares, the whispers behind her back when they thought she wasn't listening- she hated everything.
And it was all because she existed.
If she hadn't been born, then maybe her mother and father wouldn't have been caught and they could have continued meeting in secret.
But as they always said, meeting like that would have only ended in heartbreak.
Frostkit knew it was true.
Just look where it got her parents.
Snowfoot couldn't bring himself to look at her, and he didn't even acknowledge her or Dewkit in the sparse times that he had come to visit his mate in the nursery.
Frostkit knew what it meant.
Her father didn't love her, and he never would.
It was all in his eyes- those hardened blue sheets of ice of his.
They showed everything, whether it be anger or sadness, they were like pools to his soul. Almost always, there was sorrow and bitterness trapped inside the blue gaze, and anyone who made contact with him, flinched away with a somewhat startled expression on their face.
Frostkit was jerked from her thoughts when the ball of moss that she had so coveted rolled innocently over to her, its edges slightly brushing against her paws.
Feeling confused, she jerked her gaze from the moss to see the encouraging eyes of Cloverkit.
"Pass it back!" the brown she-kit cried, her voice delighted. "Hurry up, Frostkit!"
Still feeling confused, Frostkit awkwardly batted the moss ball back, and when she saw it slam into Cloverkit's legs, a giggle escaped her lips.
They continued this game for several more minutes, and Frostkit enjoyed every second of it. But as the game progressed, she noticed that her movements were becoming… sluggish. Her breathing sped up, her heart beating almost frantically in her chest. She felt light-headed, and every time she tried to breath, all she could draw in was a shallow, weak rasp.
Frostkit felt panicked, and all she could think was, not again.
The edges of her vision began to gain dark tinges, and her legs gave out underneath her.
Dimly, Frostkit thought that she could hear Cloverkit screaming in the background, amidst the noise of panicked Clanmates.
Everything went dark and she knew nothing.
. . .
When Frostkit woke, it felt as if she were drowning.
She could barely draw in a breath, and when she did, it escaped her lips as a clogged up noise, leaving her feeling terribly sick and nauseous afterwards.
After the first time she woke, Frostkit passed out again, heavy, panting breaths echoing throughout the den.
She drifted for a while, and the second time she woke was for real.
Like before, all Frostkit could do was just lie on her back, sweat-soaked pelt pressing into the mossy bedding beneath her.
When she opened her mouth to breathe, it felt as if something heavy had been placed on her chest. She immediately started coughing, the sharp, hacking noise irritating her already clogged up throat.
A moment later, shuffles echoed throughout the den, and a few seconds later, Frostkit was gently rolled on her side. When that happened, her coughs increased and she was a shuddering mess, foam and saliva dripping from her parted lips.
"Breathe, Frostkit," a gentle voice tinged with sadness instructed.
Frostkit coughed a few more times, managing to mumble out, "… I… can't…"
There was a slight ruffle, and then something round was popped into her mouth, the soothing voice mewing, "It's a juniper berry, Frostkit. Eat it, it'll help you breathe."
Still shuddering, Frostkit did as she was bid, biting down on the berry and cringing at the bitter taste. A few moments later, her effort was rewarded when the weight on her chest eased slightly, allowing her to breathe slightly better.
"Are you alright, Frostkit?" the same voice mewed, the noise of rustling objects echoing around the den. Frostkit smelt something extremely strong in the background, and in her foggy state, she assumed that they were herbs of some sort.
She shuddered when her mouth was suddenly pried open and something was shoved inside. A paw pressed over her mouth prevented her from expelling whatever was inside.
"Chew it, Frostkit," the voice said sternly.
Frostkit opened her eyes, and she blinked uncomprehendingly, registering a smudged blur of white and brown. She shut them again. "It's… too hard," she slurred.
"No, it's not," the voice said. "I know you can do this. You already ate the juniper berry, and that cleared your chest a bit, but now you need to eat this tansy to cure your cough. So eat it, Frostkit, now."
Obediently, Frostkit bit down on the herb, making a face at the strong, bitter taste. She could only manage a mouthful, though, and she spat out the remains.
The voice sighed, and if Frostkit were conscious enough, then she would have registered it as being one of disappointment. "Frostkit," it said gently, disrupting her haze of sleepiness, "I need you to swallow one more thing for me. Can you do that?"
Frostkit didn't bother to raise her head to acknowledge the softly spoken demand, and instead sluggishly mewed, "Depends… on what it is."
"A few poppy seeds to help you sleep. Can you swallow them for me?"
"'Kay," she answered without opening her eyes.
When a paw went to her chin, she obediently opened her mouth and in return, the seeds slipped inside. She chewed on them slowly, an overwhelming tiredness pulling at her.
Frostkit felt herself slip away, her grip on reality loosening.
. . .
When Frostkit next woke, it was to the sensation of someone sitting beside her, soothingly lapping at her pelt.
She opened her eyes, blinking against the harsh light that pierced her gaze, and she tiredly got to her paws, shutting her eyes in an attempt to rid her eyes of the crust surrounding them.
The cat that had been sitting next to her suddenly gave a cry of joy, and Frostkit jolted.
"Oh, Frostkit!" the cat wept. "I didn't think that you were going to wake up at all!"
Frostkit felt confused, and it didn't help all that much that she was disorientated at the same time. "What happened?" she whispered, her voice rasping.
The cat in front of her was a she-cat with sleek, light-grey fur, and her amber eyes expressed joy at the sight of Frostkit.
"You had another attack," the cat answered softly, and her voice began to crack as she continued: "You were just lying there, Frostkit, and you weren't even breathing. It reminded me of your kitting- you weren't breathing then, either. But this attack was far harsher than any of the others… I didn't think that you would wake up this time around."
When Frostkit tried to breathe, the air rattled noisily in her throat. It was a far cry to when it had been clogged up only hours before.
It meant that she was recovering, and it was a faster time than any of her other attacks, she noticed. The attacks that she had suffered had left her unable to even stand on her own days after it had happened.
Frostkit hated them, but by the fact that she was recovering so quickly, did it mean that the attacks would one day stop forever?
Mosslight, the medicine cat, had said no.
"How… how long was I sleeping for?" Frostkit croaked, her voice cracking at the third syllable. "How long did this one last for?"
The she-cat hesitated, her amber eyes pooling with sadness and… realisation?
"Fox dung, Pebblefur!" Frostkit cursed, her eyes blazing. "Stop being so afraid and just tell me!"
Pebblefur looked stunned at the sight of her young kit cursing and yelling at the top of her lungs, but the cat didn't seemed to hesitate like she once did, and she mewed, "You were asleep for a full day and night. You gave us quite a scare last night, though. We thought we were going to lose you for sure, but amazingly, you pulled through. You really are a fighter, Frostkit."
Frostkit felt a bitter smile pulling at her lips. "I'm not really a fighter if I can't become a warrior, now, am I?" she asked rhetorically.
Pebblefur sighed. "You know what will happen if you train, Frostkit," she said gently. "You could-"
"I know!" Frostkit spat. "So don't remind me! Besides, it's not as I Mosslight really knows what might happen, and if I do die, than it's not as if anyone will miss me."
"That's enough!" Pebblefur said sharply. She looked her daughter straight in the eye. "Don't you dare say something like that again, Frostkit! Do you understand?"
"Whatever you say," Frostkit muttered with a roll of her eyes.
"Frostkit!" her mother snapped.
With a sigh, Frostkit attempted to get to her paws, and when her mother tried to support her when she lost her balance, she shot her a glower. "I'm fine!" she snapped, and when Pebblefur flinched minutely, she sighed again and added in a tone with less bite, "Just let me do this, Pebblefur. I have to see if I can, please. If I can't do this by myself, then I'll be weak forever. So, please."
Pebblefur sighed, but Frostkit could see that her mother relented, and she felt relief that her mother wouldn't force her to do something she didn't want.
Shuddering at the feeling of light-headedness that suddenly struck her, she tried her best to get to her best, balancing slightly on her weak limbs and stretching out the stiffness in them.
She wobbled slightly, but she managed to keep herself upright- a far cry to her first try.
There was a slight tightness in her chest, Frostkit noticed, but other than that, she suppose she felt okay. She also had a lingering cough, too- one that refused to clear away.
"You look better standing up," Pebblefur observed, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips. "Not the shuddering mess that you were only last night."
"How bad was I?" Frostkit asked quietly, a cautious tone lacing her voice when her mother suddenly stiffened.
Finally, Pebblefur answered: "You were barely even breathing, Frostkit," she said softly. "You were just lying there, and whenever you opened your mouth to breath, you would cough, and it would sound like you were being choked."
"Let me guess," Frostkit said roughly, swallowing as despair threatened to wrench her in half. "I won't be becoming an apprentice anytime soon, preferably tomorrow, am I?"
Pebblefur looked immensely saddened, and she sat beside Frostkit, gently pressing her side to Frostkit's own. "Oh, sweetheart," she choked. "I think you're completely right."
Frostkit turned her head and buried her face into her mother's shoulder. "Did StarClan give me this… this disability because I wasn't supposed to be born?"
Her mother frowned sadly at this, and she mewed, "Oh, Frostkit, don't say things like that. Of course you were meant to be born. Why would you think this? And StarClan didn't want to punish your father or me through you and your brother."
"How do you know that what you think isn't true?"
Pebblefur sighed. "Frostkit," she said, and her voice was so kind, so gentle. "When you were born, you weren't born. I honestly thought that you wouldn't the night, but like yesterday proved, you're a born fighter. So, if StarClan wanted you dead, they would have made sure you were when you were born. Luckily, that never happened, and never will until you're old and happy."
"But what if you're wrong?" Frostkit retorted quietly. "What if I really am a mistake?"
