Okay so here's my story!
It was night in the forest. There was not a sound except for the quiet rustling of prey in the undergrowth. A small pink nose emerged from underneath a leaf and sniffed around in the midnight air. Sensing all was clear; it rose to its small paws and scurried away. That was the life of a mouse, always quiet, always alert, to stay safe from the creatures that prowled the forest at night.
This particular mouse had watched as the creatures had devoured all of her family, her mother, her father, her aunt and uncle and all of her six brothers. She was the only survivor. She was the quietest and the most alert. And that was a good thing.
She was being watched.
The mouse was a clever mouse and she knew that she had the gleaming yellow eyes of a creature upon her. Sensing it, she raised her nose to the air. This must be a very stupid creature, she thought, it was standing upwind from her so she could smell it as it made its approach. The mouse tensed up and a moment after the creature sprang.
The mouse was agile as well as quick minded, so she easily dodged the clumsy paws of the creature. She had no time to gloat her victory and she started to scurry west as fast as her little legs would take her. She could hear the rasping breath of the creature on her shoulder. The creature may be clumsy but it did not give up easily.
The creature sprang again, landing on the mouse's tail. The mouse squealed in pain and terror and wrenched her bleeding tail away. The creature hissed in frustration as the mouse started to run again, heading for a hollowed out trunk that lay across a deep gorge. The mouse scampered inside and carried on running, her light pawsteps making no sound on the wood. She gasped as she heard the creature pounding after her and glanced around to see it squeezing through the entrance and gliding along, its belly fur swishing the floor of the trunk. She squeaked as she heard the pawsteps getting closer and closer, louder and louder...
... and then the pawsteps stopped.
The mouse spun around and saw the creature scrabbling on the wood, its wide shoulders stuck in the small space of the tunnel. Still rigid with terror, the mouse crept away until she was out in the night air again. There she collapsed on the spot, fighting for breath, her tiny heart beating two times faster than it should. She lay there for a long time until she heard the yowl. It was the yowl of a creature and the mouse sprang to her paws. She was not safe here; not while there were creatures around.
The yowl was high pitched and despaired. If the mouse's strong hearing had followed the sound it would have lead her to the CaveClan nursery. A young she-cat was wailing in anguish and softly licking the side of her newborn kit. Crouching beside her was the leader of the clan, Polarstar. He rasped his tongue over the ear of his despairing deputy, mewing softly, "Scorchstorm, we cannot keep your kits. There are no ginger cats in CaveClan, and there never will be."
"But it is only this one that is ginger Polarstar," Scorchstorm mewed desperately, prodding one of her three kits with her nose. "Could we not give him away and keep the others."
Polarstar looked at her, sadness lingering in his eyes. "Do you think that your son would ever be happy separated from his siblings? No, Scorchstorm, ginger kits belong in WoodClan and his siblings should go with him. You and I both know that their father comes from WoodClan anyway. I'm sure that they would be happy with him."
The she-cat looked thoughtfully at her kits. Then she bent down and tenderly licked the head of each one, before nudging them towards Polarstar. "Take them; wash all the scent from them so that the WoodClan cats will not know that they come from CaveClan."
Polarstar nodded and lifted a black and white she-kit in his mouth and nudged the other two, one a ginger tom and the other a silver and black tabby she-kit, out of the nursery. They stumbled blindly into the dark, mewling pitifully. The noise attracted three CaveClan cats. One rushed up to Polarstar mewing, "Polarstar, where are you taking those kits? They should not be outside the nursery this early."
Polarstar laid his tail on her head and meowed, "Do not worry Talonclaw. I want you to get two other cats and take these kits to WoodClan. They belong there, one of them is ginger."
The she-cat's eyes lit up with understanding and she summoned the two nearest cats to her. She took the she-kit from Polarstar and gave the tom to the warrior Talltail. Then she handed the second she-kit to the third cat, her apprentice, Creekpaw. The kit was a large burden for the flecked grey tom but he was strong and lifted the kit far off the ground. Then they raced out of the camp.
The three cats ran through the night, staying side by side jumping over fallen logs and puddles as one. They sprinted for a few miles across their territory, stopping abruptly before the log bridge, leading across the gorge. If they had arrived a few minutes earlier they would have stopped to help Blackpaw out of the log, but now the tom had gone, escaping from the log with ripped fur and scratches.
Talonclaw's fur bristled as she looked across the bridge. CaveClan cats feared the bridge and only crossed it when they desperately needed to visit WoodClan. Talonclaw knew that now was one of those times.
She stepped cautiously onto the bridge, placing each paw in front of the other, not daring to look down at the river that ran in the score in the earth. The actual crossing took less than ten seconds but to Talonclaw it seemed like many moons. She leaped down from the bridge and turned to see Talltail do the same. She buried her nose in his fur, relieved that her mate was safe. A high-pitched yowl sounded and Talonclaw leaped back from Talltail and stared across the bridge.
She gasped in horror, dropping the kit.
Creekpaw was dangling from the log, his claws scrabbling for a hold in the slippery wood, his teeth still firmly clenched around the kit's scruff.
"Creekpaw," she yowled and was about to jump back onto the log but Talltail thrust his way in front of her, his eyes terrified. For a few dreadful seconds she gazed at her apprentice and then he and the kit fell and disappeared under the icy waves.
Talonclaw was rigid in shock, vaguely aware of Talltail pressing himself to her, trying vainly to comfort her. She sank to the ground and curled her body around the she-kit. Talltail lied down next to her and put the other kit next to his sister, and pressed his muzzle to his mate's.
They lay there for a long time, her grief softened by his closeness. Then she dug her teeth into the she-kit's scruff and turned to Talltail, murmuring coldly through the fur, "Come on we've got a job to do."
Icepaw stalked through the tall grass in the moor, her brother Sootpaw pacing beside her. Today was their last day as apprentices and she was determined to catch as much prey as possible. Plus there was always the added pleasure of showing off to the new apprentices, Ratpaw and Fempaw.
Sootpaw's black fur was puffed up as it usually was. Icepaw suppressed a sigh of exasperation. Whatever she told her brother she could never get him to relax, he was so tensed up. She had given up trying to calm him a long time ago; it was all she could do to be there for him. But Sootpaw was a swift and agile cat and Icepaw knew that he would make a great warrior.
A mouse scent flooded to her nose and Icepaw swivelled her ears to locate it. Then she slid into a hunters crouch and crept along her paws making no sound on the ground. She spotted the mouse scrabbling around on wheat stems, nibbling at the grains. Icepaw measured her jump and sprang, cursing as she landed a claw-length away from the mouse. She instantly gave chase following the wild thumps of the mouse's heart. She was two tail-lengths away and she leaped again, landing not on the mouse, but on something else.
The thing, whatever it was, squeaked loudly, and Icepaw leapt away, her long white fur bristling. The noise brought Sootpaw to her side and the two cats pushed close together, their pelts touching. Then they moved forward as one, and gasped at what they saw.
In the nest were two kits, one black and white and the other ginger. They gazed up at the two apprentices with wide scared eyes.
"It's kits," whispered Sootpaw, breaking the silence.
"Yes, I have noticed, Sootpaw," snapped Icepaw.
"What are we going to do with them?"
"I don't know, do I? Go back to the camp and get a warrior or something," Icepaw commanded Sootpaw. Her brother gave her a long fearful glace before whipping around and racing in the direction of the camp.
With her brother gone, Icepaw studied the kits more closely. They were shivering from the cold and Icepaw knew that when kits caught cold, it could be the death of them. Losing all tepidness, she lay down next to them and wound her tail around the ginger one while pulling the other close to her body. They pressed themselves to her fur, as if trying to emerge themselves in it. Icepaw bent down and licked the head of the ginger one, and caught a faint whiff of a scent. She gasped in surprise.
It was CaveClan scent.
Icepaw stared at the kits. She should kill them now; they were kits from another clan. She felt something wet touch her pelt and looked down to see the she-kit licking her fur, staring up at her with adoring eyes. She could not see them killed. Even if the kits were from CaveClan, it did not make them bad cats. Hastily, she bent down and licked the last of the CaveClan scent from the kits.
The grass rustled and Icepaw looked up to see Sootpaw stepping through the stalks, followed by the pretty warrior Lilyface and the leader of her clan, Fallenstar. She dipped her head to him and scrambled to her paws, the kits sheltered under her body.
"What have we here?" Fallenstar asked. "It seems that you have found some stray kits Icepaw. Let's put your scenting to the test; can you tell where these kits came from?"
Icepaw smelt the kits quivering bodies, relief rushing through her when she found no trace of the CaveClan scent. "No, Fallenstar," she mewed. "They must be rouges."
Icepaw tensed as her leader sniffed the kits for himself. He straightened up and mewed, "Well scented Icepaw. These cats do not carry the scent of any of the clans. What shall we do with them?"
Lilyface responded immediately. "We must keep them, of course. No kit deserves to starve or freeze to death."
Icepaw waited as tensely as Lilyface for Fallenstar's answer. It seemed like an eternity before he mewed, "Yes, we shall keep them. I am sure that Daisypelt can suckle these kits alongside young Silkkit."
Icepaw wanted to yowl in triumph but kept quiet and instead picked up the ginger tom, nudging the black and white kit toward Lilyface. As she followed the other three cats out of the grass, she felt guilt rising in her chest as she thought of the secret she would have to keep from her clan. A secret she could not even share with her own brother or with the kits themselves.