Hey guys! So this is my very first fanfic on this site ( about time to ) so this will be fun to see how this turns out. ^_^

Now, I don't have this whole series outlined yet, but I'm nearly done with the outline for this story and I have the ideas and everything for the rest, so we will hopefully be keeping a steady pace with this one and get it completed as quickly as possible. =D

Okay, so updates every Saturday will be the plan I think I will start with.

So, without delaying this any further, I present to you : Of Ravens and Snow : Chapter 1.

Disclaimer : I do not own Warriors.

Warnings : Nope

CHAPTER 1 :

Beneath the Cold Stars

"Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?"

- Garth Nix, "Sabriel"

It was cold. So cold. Both literally and metaphorically. The wind that bit and scratched and tore at her soft fur sent chills down her spine and through muscle and bone.

Ears pinned against her head as she lowered it to plow through the roaring winds. She could not remember what it felt like to have paws for they had long ago grown cold and numb. She also forgot what it was like to have a while heart, her's having been smashed to pieces moons before.

But the pain of the cold and of the broken heart were far from her mind as she waded through belly-deep snow. The thing on her mind were the two beings that swung slowly in her jaws. They were small, so small. The mother wondered briefly how they had survived while their brother had been stillborn and their sister died moments after birth. Perhaps it was because they were the last two born of a litter that would have been four.

She had felt a connection between the two brothers that she had never felt before. Even though she had seen the birth of countless kits as it had been only one part of her duty as a medicine cat. A pang in her already broken heart forced her to close grief heavy eyes.

Yes, a one point she had been a medicine cat, but now those days were over ever since the destruction of her clan.

Of course it had only been a matter of time before that would happen.

Ever since losing the last heir to the throne and with Winterstar ripping apart their clan and their territory in his quest for conquest the clan had slowly died off until only two were left : the warrior Whitecrow and herself.

It was a cruel twist of fate that she had been stuck with Whitecrow - a kithood sweetheart who she had left behind when she had strayed from the warrior life for that of a medicine cat and who she had never lost her love for. It was only moons later they learned she was to have his kits and just a few weeks after that, that Whitecrow himself had been slain by a half-starved fox. She had gotten away, clumsy as she was with kits due in a moon.

What she didn't expect was them to be born a half-moon premature in the middle of the harsh Leaf-bare moons that lasted for six moons here in the Clans' territories. When the first had been born - still and dead - she knew all hope was lost for her kits. She had a right to, in a sense, for she had seen even the strongest kits fall at Leaf-bares wrath. When her second kit had been born some hope kindled in her chest as she watched him breath.

She tried, StarClan knows she tried to save him, but moments later he too succumbed to the freezing bite of that Leaf-bare night. She was in tears by the time her last two were born.

The first a silver tabby, so much like herself, and the last a small gray kit with a dash of black between his closed eyes and slivers of snow-white on his front paws, and all she could think was that they too were to die.

She licked them to stimulate warmth in the already shivering, tiny bodies. To her utter shock it had worked, they began to search for milk within moments. She was determined then on to save these kits no matter what.

Even if it meant giving them up to the Clans in hope of a better life for them.

That, of course, had been a last effort plan...

That plan was bring put into action today, as the pale, weak sun slowly sank towards the ground on this windy, cloudy dusk.

She hated herself for being weak, unable to care for her own kits while she had brought cats back from near death in the past. But, though she may hate herself for such weakness she wasn't stubborn to the point of arrogance. She knew her kits were better off in a clan.

What she didn't know was that she had long ago crossed the borders of IceClan.

The darkness was unnerving to her.

Darkness was approaching with only a few faint rays of light showing the way along the already bleak path. She followed it none the less, desperate at this point to get her kits to safety and perhaps warmth.

She knew exactly where she was going.

It was towards the territory of IceClan, an old ally to her late clan who had welcomed them constantly with friendly warmth. She doubted they would recognize her, considering it had been eight years since the demise of her clan. But she could convince them. Surely some of the older cats would know her.

That's when she felt a small shiver run through her tiny kit and without a thought she turned from her North-eastern path and quickly found and old Oak, partially covered by bushes just a few yards from her one-minded trail. She thanked StarClan for her easy find and quickly dug at the snow around the roots of the old tree. Before long a shallow hollow was made and she quickly slid into it, gently placing her kits at her belly and wrapping her tail around them. Already the wind had died to a loud but distant groaning and only the softest of breezes ruffled her long, feathery fur.

She paused for a moment, listening with alert ears, before turning her green gaze downward. Her two small kits were curled up where her shoulder connected with her body. She stared at them, the tiniest of smiles crossing her features as she took them in.

The first born brother - the silver tabby - already had the thick fur of his father and strong build that had been that of his sire's. Indeed this kit was his father's kit. The youngest brother, though, was truly her kit. His gray fur, thought thick as well, was slightly more soft than his brother's while his delicate paws and narrow frame belonged to her.

She leaned down and gently licked each in turn, noting with worry their small shivers and weak mews. She turned once more to her surroundings and looked out into the blowing wind and snow, which had started falling hours ago.

She desperately wanted to continue on. If the snow got to high the clan would not patrol or hunt, instead turning to their reserves for what food they would need. But, she also wanted her kits to have a moment to compose themselves. She looked back to her kits and noticed how they paddled at her belly, searching for the life-giving milk that was not there. She nearly bit herself, in all her worry for her kits she had forgotten that she too needed food to sustain both her health and the milk for her kits.

Then again, nothing lived at such a time as Leaf-bare.

She lay there for a moment, conflicted on what to do. She had almost no more sunlight left, but enough to quickly hunt if she wished to. She sat there. Torn with either leaving her kits to hunt, or to lay low for the night and hope they survived.

Her eyes hardened.

Hope.

She was done having hope. If you wanted something to go your way, you better make it so, not hope it so. Mind made up she gave each of them a loving lick, "I shall return, my dears. Hold strong for me." the mother slipped from the hole and the cover of forage and raced out into the night.

The paws steps were fading. Fast, thanks to this unexpected snow storm.

They had come from the West and were now heading straight for their camp, having long ago passed the border. The lone cat gazed at it with little interest in his amber eyes. But interest none the less.

And intruder was an intruder after all.

The cat's shoulders flexed stiff, tight muscles. The Leaf-bare days and nights were growing colder and colder. This was perhaps the last patrol IceClan would have for many days if the snow storm kept up at this pace. A clump of snow from a snow-laden branch dropped onto the tom's mud-brown shoulder. The tom gave and irritated shake, long tail slicking with annoyance, and the snow fell to the ground. He turned towards the North-east. Where the tracks were headed. He kept his gaze focused even when he felt a presence a little ways behind him.

Silently he followed the North-eastern direction of the trail.

The presence behind him faded a little.

The mud-brown tom picked up a quick trot, his long tail dragging in the snow behind him, occasionally flicking upward to detach a clump of snow. It surprised him how far the unknown cat had gotten into their territory.

Whoever they were was nearly on top of their camp.

The cat's steps stopped suddenly when the tracks abruptly turned. He twisted his head to silently follow them.

Why would the unknown cat suddenly turn off course? From what he had seen they had been bent on getting to the camp.

Curious now he followed the trail and soon came upon a clump of bushes and a grand old tree that the mud-brown cat recognized as the climbing tree apprentices used to train in. He blinked slowly, the memories swarming him like tiny schools of fish.

Then the mew caught his attention.

He tore his gaze away from the memory the tree held and pricked his ears up, straining to listen above the howling wind.

There! It was faint but there.

Tense shoulders stiffened further. Those were the mews of kits! The cat they must have been following must be a mother.

He crouched low and slow, ever so slowly, inched forward. He did not want to startle the mother, knowing well that she wouldn't be happy to him.

The tom didn't even notice the same set of paw steps that seemingly left the undergrowth and went back the way they had come.

He peered through the undergrowth and stopped short.

Where was the mother?

He moved forward, quicker this time. He was met with an odd sight. Two kits, silver tabby and gray, lay curled into one another as thought trying to share what little warmth they had. The cat gazed around. He quickly turned and left. He scanned the snowy grounds, eyes wide as he searched,

"Elkpath!" he called. He perked his ears and when his half-brother didn't make an appearance he grew annoyed,

"Elkpath! Get over here now!" he snapped to the air.

Shortly after a figure appeared. It was the cat who's presence had been behind the brown tom. The cat tilted his head, his brown tabby pelt was damp from falling snow. The newcomer's eyes gazed at the tom. Amber eyes gazing into amber eyes. That was were the appearances stopped.

The brown tabby was thick in build with a stout body. His older half-brother, the mud-brown tom, on the other hand was long and slender, more snake than cat it seemed. His tail alone was nearly half his size. The mud-brown tom glared at his younger half-brother,

"You won't believe what I found, come." he said. He turned and disappeared to where the kits lay curled. Elkpath followed silently. The mud-brown tom - who went by the name Snaketail - gazed at Elkpath as he made his appearance. The brown tabby's ears perked up in surprise as he took in the kits, watching them shiver. Oblivious to the possible danger the could be in.

It was a moment before Elkpath spoke, "Do these kits belong to our mysterious intruder, you think?" he asked thoughtfully.

Snaketail nodded, "I do not see why they wouldn't be. The question is, where is their mother?" he asked quietly, leaning forward to sniff the head of the silver tom, who weakly raised hie head before letting it fall back on top of his brother's back.

Elkpath looked around them in the small area where the wind did not quite reach them. Whoever they are, the found a good spot.He thought.

That's when he saw the trail.

The paw steps were more pronounced due to the fact the howling wind and torrential snow storm didn't quite reach the small grove. Without a word to his half-brother Elkpath quickly followed the trail.

When he emerged the wind lunged at him and clawed at his ears and long pelt. He saw that the trail was back tracking, going back the way it had come, and that it was nearly gone due to the persistent snow that continued to fall.

He stood a moment longer before returning to the kits and Snaketail,

"I believe she has left." he meowed thoughtfully.

Snaketail looked up sharply, amber eyes hard with an unknown emotion, but one that Elkpath knew well the origin of.

"Left?" was all Snaketail said, in a hushed voice.

Elkpath nodded, gazing at the kits once more, they had started shivering all the more since his quick disappearance. Snaketail's eyes narrowed as he, too, turned back to the kits,

"Why? She was working towards the camp. Why stop?" he asked in a hard voice that matched his eyes.

Elkpath took a deep, patient breath, knowing his half-brother's anger could easily boil over despite his usual calm, "Perhaps she knew she could not make it, let alone her kits. You know it's been done before. Or, perhaps, she knew her kits wouldn't make it and abandoned them to die." he reasoned, his eyes cloudy with thoughtfulness.

Snaketail's eyes suddenly grew sad and his long tail flicked unhappily, "No mother is that selfish." he muttered under his breath, hoping Elkpath wouldn't her him, that the snow storm covered up the words that meant more to this cat than any knew.

Not surprisingly, Elkpath heard him, "Look at them, brother. They look to be premature. How they have lived this far I do not know." he urged, trying to get his brother to see the logic, however sad it may be.

It had the complete opposite of what he wanted.

Snaketail's eyes grew determined and his tail flicked twice - a habit he had picked up when he was angered or determined. He turned amber eyes on amber eyes, "Perhaps it is a sign? From StarClan themselves? If they have made it this far and have not yet died." he argued.

Elkpath's ears flattened in slight annoyance, "Or luck." he snapped. But his elder half-brother paid no attention to him, quickly bending down and picking up one of the kits. The gray one. He gently placed it between his fore paws and turned to Elkpath, "Odd how you wanted so hard to save your kits and help the other queens with theirs, but no you will just leave these two mother-less ones to die." it was not a question, it was a full blown challenging statement.

Elkpath took a step back as though Snaketail had struck him. Her face flashed before his eyes, a gorgeous silver-and-brown she-cat with such warmth in her green eyes it pushed the Leaf-bare chill away. Then she was gone and he was left facing his stubborn half-brother and two near-dead kits.

He stood frozen for a moment, gazing at the two kits.

Would one of them be silver-and-brown like her? Perhaps tabby like him? He felt the tears comes but refused to let them fall. Not here. Not now. But Snaketail's words had sunk in : when had he turned away form a kit in need? Didn't the Warrior Code demand they help any kit in need? What would she think of him? Nothing good, he knew that.

He took a step forward, then another and reached into the hollow, gently grasping the scruff of the shivering silver tabby, and he suddenly realized he had, perhaps, saved a life.

Or prolonged an inevitable death.

He shook the thought away and turned to Snaketail, who was once more carrying the gray kit in his jaws. He sent a glare his way, "Who will take them?" he asked around a mouthful of fur. Snaketail's eyes glowed, "I believe Tallflame would be more than grateful to take them in. She has but one kit left alive. She will not mind another two." his eyes grew dull as he thought of the young she-cat, "Perhaps they can help her heart mend." he added ass an after thought.

Or she will reject because the pain is still there. But, Elkpath did not speak these words aloud.

As the two turned to leave the forage a sound reached their sensitive ears. A sound that belonged not to the snow storm.

It was a wrenching sound, a tearing sound. Then a massive grown seemed to split the air and there was a moment of silence before there was a massive thud that rivaled thunder and a great shaking of the ground that rivaled an earthquake.

The two kits let out startled mews, not understanding the unknown that seemed ready to reach them and tear them away from the warmth that now carried them.

There was a moment of silence before Snaketail pushed past Elkpath, "We must hurry. The first tree has fallen, the snow storm will not be letting up soon and we need to get back to camp." Snaketail called back, disappearing into the night with Elkpath right behind them.

The two raced across the snow as best they could, their paws powered by the fact that they could not be stuck in this weather for not only would the kits surely die, but they as well.

After what seemed like forever they came upon a bundle of mossy rocks that stood as the entrance to their camp. Without hesitation they leaped through it. Just as the second tree fell under the weight of the snow.

The two stood, panting, in the shelter of the mossy tunnel.

The kits shivered with both fear and cold now and Snaketail quickly led the way, Elkpath at his shoulder.

Soon they emerged into an open clearing surrounded by high walls of stone about ten of Snaketail's tail lengths high, that flanked the camp while towards the back, where the land sloped gently up, was a wall of bramble and thorn. Along the walls were the dens for the clan. To their left was another jumble of rocks, the Leader's den and where he spoke to his clan. Next to that was the Medicine Cat's den, a much smaller mound of rocks that opened in a rather roomy den. The Medicine Cat's den was next to the nursery, an aged thorn bush that had withstood countless Leaf-bares. To their right was the Warriors' den, a mix of a bramble bush and a fallen tree. Beside that was the Elders' den, a Juniper bush that was the main source for the Clan's Juniper Berries.

The snow was not as deep as it was out in the territory, but it was still knee-deep none the less. As the two emerged two figures barred their way, curious but not threatening.

Who would come out in weather like this and attack IceClan?

The figures belonged to the two guards, both younger than the two half-brothers, but still experienced warriors. Once was a cream tomcat while the other was a broad-shouldered black tom. The cream tom blinked at them,

"You've returned! And not alone, I see!" he meowed in greeting, backing off to allow the two cats entrance to the camp. Elkpath said nothing but Snaketail turned to the cream tom, "is Tallflame still away, Palethorn?" he asked quietly. The cream tom perked his ears, "She has been restless, though you know the cause. I would not be surprised if she was." he meowed.

That was all the two needed and they quickly made their way over to the thorn bush and one by one made their way in.

The warmth of the nursery always surprised Elkpath as they entered. It was as if Leaf-bare was non-existent here. Three queens lay curled up. Two of them were fast asleep, their own kits curled into the warmth of their bellies. Elkpath noticed a small, pale brown she-kit gazing at him with curious green eyes,

"Go back to sleep, Sagekit." he whispered softly. Making sure the she-kit was asleep he followed Snaketail to the far back, where a lithe black-and-brown she-cat lay curled around one small tom.

At first Elkpath thought her asleep but then sharp green eyes gazed blankly at him. The she-cat slowly raised her head. Elkpath had to hold back a sigh.

One as young as Tallflame should not have to look of an elder.

He stood before her, gently placing the kit between his forepaws, watching as Tallflame's eyes followed the small kit, her ears perking in interest. She turned her gaze upward, "What do you wish to say to me, Elkpath?" she asked in a cool voice that feigned innocence.

Elkpath opened his jaws but Snaketail, who had placed the gray kit between his fore paws, beat him to it, "We wish to ask you to care for these kits. They are young, perhaps only days old. Certainly less than a week and possibly only hours old. I know you have lost your last two kits due to Greencough as well as your mate and only young Sunkit has survived, and the choice is yours entirely if you wish to care for them as you own or refuse them." he explained quietly, as not to wake the others.

Tallflame's eyes had scanned both the small toms, who still shook but not as bad, before turning to Snaketail with a cross flick of her ear, "You ask a foolish question, Snaketail. My heart still hurts for Fogkit and Bramblekit and now you present me with the choice of accepting or refusing these two. As if I can merely replace the ones I lost for these ones." she meowed with a sharp note to her voice.

Snaketail looked away, "A foolish question yes. But, the only one I have for you." he turned back to her, his eyes blank but with just the slightest shadow of begging in them.

There was a tense, harsh silence before Tallflame sighed and looked at the kits, "I would be a cruel cat to just let these kits die without a fight. They are premature, as I am sure you know, by at least a half-moon, if you remember how small that EmberClan she-cat's kits were from some years ago. Besides, I have more than enough milk to feed them. I will take them." she said with finality.

Elkpath couldn't stop the small smile that crossed his lips as Tallflame reached forward and gently placed the kits next to her own. He stared at them for a moment, watching as they suckled.

Suddenly a thought came over his mind and he turned to Snaketail, "What if Graystar does not accept them into the clan?" he whispered urgently. Snaketail's eyes narrowed with thought but a strong voice made them turn to the young she-cat who had taken in the kits destined to die,

"Then he will have to face me." she said these words with her eyes glued to her three kits.

Elkpath and Snaketail looked at each other with amused expressions.

That was good enough for them.

Elkpath turned away from the group and made his way outside. Snaketail glanced once more at the she-cat, "Thank you, Tallflame. Good night." he mewed, before turning and following Elkpath.

The wind howled and the snow fell hard and fast to the point of whiteout, and the cold bit deep and hard across the seven territories. All heard it and curled tighter in their nests to defend against the cold.

All but one.

The only cat who didn't take noticed was the queen within IceClan, who watched her firstborn and two adopted kits sleep.

Feeling, for the first time, a piece of her broken heart fix.

Thanks for reading!

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- - Raven