Hey my lovelies! This is a book of one-shots based off of the characters in my stories. These are short pieces on their pasts, their futures, their thoughts on others during my stories. They can also be what ifs.

This, of course, will not be updated regularly, but keep an eye out.

And I take suggestions! Any thoughts, feel free to tell me, but I will only take ideas based off of my OWN characters, unless you have an incredibly cool suggestion for someone already existing in the actual novels. Thanks! And enjoy. This is the story on how Slither of Trapped in Ice got her scars.

Remember this?

"Slither, how about you show me what you got," Ice snarled. "I'd really like to see how you've progressed over the moons I've been here."

The scarred ginger she-cat looked away defiantly. "I refuse to do something so demeaning. Everyone knows that this will only show that you wish humiliate me."

"Well then, I guess you really are a coward...scarface."

If Ice had learned anything, it's that Slither had a deep sensitivity to that name. Whatever was behind those deep red slashed across her nose and cheeks, they really meant something to her, and that's why Ice would use it. It was cruel, yes, but it had an affect.

Lightning flashed in the pitch black sky, revealing the paw steps that sunk into the mud. Tree branches waved powerfully over our heads, threatening to indent into our skulls if we didn't drop low. A large stick flew directly at me, obeying the forceful winds as they whirled about the forest. Quinn threw herself over me and we both crashed onto the ground before the branch could impale itself in my face.

Quinn stayed there for many moments, leaving me pinned underneath her. I could feel her choked breathing pounding against my flank. I wriggled, reminding her of what was happening and she quickly let me up, nudging me into a sprint.

Pain pierced my sides and I felt as though the air was quickly escaping my lungs. Quinn past me and I felt her soaked fur brush against my own, and suddenly I was looking at her long tail, waving in front of my face. My legs were going numb, and it was either from the icy rain that streamed down my flesh or the exhaustion I was feeling from running so far. The mud clung to my pelt, I was being weighed down, and I stopped running.

Breathing hurt. It sent ice down my throat and froze my lungs. I coughed and saw a few drops of black blood drip from my torn lips to the ground, glowing scarlet when lightning flashed again, followed by the deafening roar of thunder that left me with a ringing in my ears that drowned out the eerie sound of the vigorous winds.

Teeth pierced my scruff. I screeched in horror, despite the protesting agony that bloomed in my chest. I thrashed and kicked, unsheathing my claws. I flailed my paws until striking something.

"Ginger!" the desperation in Quinn's voice cut through the ceaseless chime in my mind. She dropped me and turned me around so I was forced to stare into her futile amber gaze. "You have to get a hold of yourself! You have to keep running!"

"I thought you were one of them," I whispered, sure that Quinn couldn't hear me over the thunder, but I couldn't bring myself to speak any louder. It all hurt, every part of me, everything I tried to do.

"You have to run!" she yowled.

I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at the pain in her gaze any longer, but I nodded, holding in a sob. Quinn backed away, I could hear her staggering paw steps splatter in the mud. Her tail tip brushed my nose as she turned and began to run again. I took a couple steps of my own, trying to focus on the chase instead of the sharp pangs in my chest when I breathed.

We'll make you miserable, they had said. We'll make you wish you were never kitted. The way their blood-stained lips formed the horrible words, the way their ivory teeth gleamed menacingly in the light, the way their claws wouldn't retract, the way the fur of their victims dances in the wind, the way it moves the way they won't ever again.

I could see it. Crimson pools of life splattered all over the stones, bodies left to rot in the hot and cold air, horrible looks on all of their faces, the dead and alive, how they enticed you no matter how ugly or dreadful.

Blood. Blood. Blood!

I was running now, dodging tree after tree, leaping over every falling branch that lay in my way, evading rocks and pools of mud that would slow me down. Fear drove me. Fear made me wish I could disappear, but fear would keep me alive.

Lightning flashed again, and to my relief, I could see Quinn's dark tabby shape ahead of me. I wasn't far behind.

What? Are you going to run? Are you too weak to face the pain? he had said.

You'll end up like all of them. The bodies, the rotting corpses. Jaws parted in soundless screams, forever to be lost in the past, only heard in the heads of those who bothered to remember. Eyes wide with terror and pain, sightless gazes that could see into your spirit anyway, that could see your fear. Claws extended, sharp, but useless. Fur, unkept, filthy, bloody. Are you going to fight or are you going to be run?

Run, and be useless. If you run, you will be giving up on all the countless lives to come after you.

Fight, and be honorable. If you fight, you will be trying to make a difference to is entire operation going on around you.

Will you live up to your mother's name? Will you fight and die a noble death? Or will you run and be a coward, destined to be forgotten?

My mother. Dead along side the others, a red-furred heap of scars and blood, her reward for being "noble". Death

Death. Death. Death!

I kept running, right on Quinn's tail, listening to the blood pounding in my ears, which sounded louder than even the thunder in my mind. I dodged a tall branch, pierced into the ground and ducked under a log.

Ginger...don't listen to them. Run. That was what Quinn said, her eyes resting on my mother's body.

Fight, or be known as a coward.

Ginger, run.

Fight now, you mouse-hearted scoundrel.

Run.

Fight!

Run now!

He had crashed in the grass, right where I had been a heart beat ago. Quinn had pulled me away and shoved me forward, towards the forest, dark and shadowy under the brewing storm.

Run, Ginger! Run now!

My paws had obeyed her words, but my mind and heart were left behind on those rocks, the image of my mother plastered in my head. She was dead, because she had fought, and now I would live, because I ran away, pushed by the fear that drove me?

We shall find you, and then you shall die a cowardly death!

Is there really a difference anymore?

Quinn led me through the trees, our paws thumping to the beat of our hearts pounding in our chests. I was gaining on her, thankful for the speed I possessed in those moments. We ran, and ran, and ran...

Quinn was knocked from her sprint, and she flew fox-lengths off course. I skidded to a halt, watching as she writhed on the ground. The lightning flashed then, in a band of white hot light revealed that she was pinned...by him.

You chose to run as a coward, and now you shall die as a coward.

The bellow of the thunder was drowned out by the sound of her shriek as her blood, as her life poured out onto the mud. The rain washed the crimson sap through the dirt, and as it reached my paws, I felt my heart shatter completely, the pieces falling into her blood.

Somone grabbed me by the neck, dragging me down to the ground. I jerked and twitched, trying to break free, even though I knew I couldn't. Suddenly, I couldn't move; I was paralyzed under his claws.

Then he showed up, his ice-blue eyes sharply stabbing into my own. I watched his lips form a destestable smile. His tawny fur was splattered with the blood of all those he had killed.

"I thought that was you," he said, flicking his tail at Quinn. The words seemed to echo in my mind, but I had to remind myself that this was happening. It wasn't an illusion. Fear would drive me, "But I see that I was wrong." His eyes flicked to his partner, who pinned me, and then back to my started gaze. "Maybe, though, this is better." He sighed dreamily, sitting down. "I planned on killing you for running away, I was going to do that." He blinked slowly and then studied my expression. Whatever was on my face, it satisfied him. "You have lost all that is important to you, and now, I shall punish you but keeping you alive to know it, to be reminded of it day after day."

"If you really want to punish me," I spat, "Kill me."

"That would put you out of this misery," he snarled, "This pain of being alone...and lost."

"You wouldn't be doing me favor," I protested. "I would have had no chance at a life that I actually enjoyed. I would die, without experiencing things in life that were worth it. If you want to hurt me, kill me now so I can never know what it's like to feel joy."

He stared at me, processing what I have told him. Then he took a brief look at his partner who whispered something to him.

"Why don't we send her to Darren's?" was the suggestion.

He thought for a moment, considering the idea.

"You know he's always looking for new members."

"Right, but he won't take just anyone from me," he growled. "I know what to do. Thistle, release her."

His partner did as told and I scrambled up, thinking for a moment that I should run again, but was stopped by the dreaded possibility that they would capture me again. I faced him and Thistle, pushing down a growl that rose in my throat.

He stepped forward and I watched as he raised his paw, claws extended. Before I had time to react, they struck my face, slicing down my nose and across my muzzle and head. Blood dripped into my eyes and mouth as I collapsed into the mud gasping from the stinging agony.

"There," he spat, flicking his scarlet paw. "Now she looks ruthless. Perfect for Darren."

I coughed and trembled on the ground, the stormy forest around me blocked by a crimson haze. The edges of my vision started to go black, flickering, until the darkness engulfed me and I fell limp.

I stood behind Thistle, my mind whirling. He faced a gray tabby tom, who had scars covering his shoulders and an authoritative way he held himself. I stared at my paws, not wanting to show my face to this new cat.

"What are you doing here?" demanded the gray tabby. "Is your leader with you?"

"No," Thistle replied, flexing his claws. "I come in peace with a young cat. We need her to join your gang."

"Oh really? You think that I'll let one of your own into my group just like that, after all you've done to us?" the gray tom hissed. "Fat chance. Now beat it."

"Listen, Darren," Thistle growled. "We need somewhere to put her, and this will only be for two season-cycles, then we take her back. All we need you to do is train her to be one of your own, and we will be back to reclaim her."

"Why do I feel like there's more to this then you're letting on?" Darren questioned, his eyes narrowed into slits.

"The rest of it is our business only," Thistle said quickly. "Look, I know that you usually choose your members on your own terms, but we need you to help us out, just this once, then we'll never ask you of anything. You won't ever see anything else of us again. We got a deal?"

Darren hesitated. "Just two season-cycles?"

"Just two season-cycles."

Darren looked past Thistle, at me. I refused to meet his gaze; I didn't want him to see too much of my face. He then looked back at Thistle and he nodded. "Fine. We have a deal."

I didn't know exactly why he was doing this to me, but my theory was that he wanted me to experience happiness in life, so it would be much more of a punishment to kill me later. I didn't see why he had to go through all this trouble. Why couldn't he just kill me? He's already made me ugly, he's scarred my face for life. I didn't really see the point of all that I had to do.

Thistle grabbed me and shoved me at Darren, I lost my balance and fell in front him, knocking my chin into the pavement of the pathway that led to an alley set between two abandoned houses.

Darren helped me up and we watched as Thistle disappeared. I felt his eyes on me, but I refused to show him my face. I wouldn't do it, no matter how many times he asked. I was too ashamed.

"So," he growled half-heartedly, "What's your name?"

"I'm not telling you," I snapped, a scowl weighing down my expression. "I'm not telling you about my past, about my family, I'm not telling you my favorite prey to eat!"

"Okay," he said. "Can you tell me anything about yourself?"

I huffed, not speaking. I felt his eyes boring into the back of my head, boring into my mind. It seemed as if he was trying to discover the secrets that I held in my head. My pelt grew hot and I swallowed under the pressure. I turned suddenly, and blurted out. "Fine! You see these scars! I got them three nights ago! They make me ugly, like a snake." I turned back around, waiting for a reply, even though I didn't want to hear a word Darren, or anyone else had to say.

"Well, then," Darren meowed simply, surprising me with the softness in his voice. "Let's call you Slither."

I thought I noticed myself smile

I watched, along with the rest of them as they ran, both Ice and Nettlepaw. I couldn't believe the nerve that cursed she-cat had. First she barges in and kills our commander, and then she abandons us? And after all the cruelty she had put them through, what right did she have?

I swear, there's only one cat in the world worse than her.

Suddenly, I realized what I just thought. I stiffened, and sucked in my breath. The Alley Cats around me still grumbled and hissed in anger, but I could hear my beating heart over it all.

Bolt rushed up quickly - his son, Pine, had been shoved against the wall by Ice. Once he made sure Pine was okay, I caught his eye as I stood there, frozen.

"Are you really that shocked?" he asked, disbelieving that I'd look that appalled. I made no reply to him. I could hardly process anything except a single sentence.

Just two season-cycles.

"Today," I whispered, "It's today."

"What's today?" Bolt asked.

I gazed at him, my eyes wide with fear, the fear that drove me. "I have to get out of here," I said desperately. "They'll find me. They'll kill me. Like they did to Quinn."

"Who will find you? Who's Quinn?" asked Bolt, puzzled. "Slither, what's happening?"

I didn't respond. Darren had kept it a secret, what I was doing here. Everyone thought that I was just another rogue he found off the street. No one really knew the truth.

Run, and be useless.

After all the attempts I'd made to escape from then to now, would it really be worth it?

Fight, and be honorable.

I'd be fighting my past instead of looking to the future, the future that I could have, but what if I didn't fight? Would I even have a future to look up to?

Is there really a difference anymore?

"Slither," Bolt whispered gently. "Slither, what is happening?"

I could hardly recognize that name anymore. I remember the pleads, the commands the begging for me to run, to save myself.

Ginger...don't listen to them. Run.

Ginger, run.

Run, Ginger! Run now!

"Slither?" I asked, confusion clouding my head. I looked at Bolt, breathing hard. "Wh-who's Slither? That's not my name. My name is Ginger, and...and they're coming for me! He's coming for me!"

"What are you talking about? What's going on with you?" Bolt said.

"Two season-cycles," I murmured. "Two season-cycles! I have to get out of here! Now!"

I broke into a run, ignoring Bolt as he called after me. This couldn't be happening. They'd find me! I didn't know what he was planning on doing, it was all out of fear. It was all out of the fear that drove me.

I was running. I was useless. That's what the voice in my head told me, but I didn't know if any of it was true anymore, for all I knew, I was running because I was scared, and it was a feeling I hadn't felt for two season-cycles. I didn't know what to think.

"You chose to run."

I froze.

"Is that your final decision?"

I turned my head, I didn't know where I was. It was the fear the drove me that led me here, not my paws, not my mind. That was one of the two things I knew.

The other was that I was staring into the ice-blue eyes of him.

"My final decision?" I asked.

The bodies, the rotting corpses. Jaws parted in soundless screams, forever to be lost in the past, only heard in the heads of those who bothered to remember. Eyes wide with terror and pain, sightless gazes that could see into your spirit anyway, that could see your fear. Claws extended, sharp, but useless. Fur, unkept, filthy, bloody.

My mother. Dead along side the others, a red-furred heap of scars and blood, her reward for being "noble". Death.

The bellow of the thunder was drowned out by the sound of her shriek as her blood, as her life poured out onto the mud. The rain washed the crimson sap through the dirt, and as it reached my paws, I felt my heart shatter completely, the pieces falling into her blood.

I looked up at him, a fierce scowl replacing the horrible look of the fear that drove me on my face. I unsheathed my claws into the ground and bared my teeth into a ferocious snarl. "No," I said. "I choose to fight."

He laughed and unsheathed his own claws. "Very well, daughter."

I held his sharp gaze. "Very well, father."

And that my friends, is a whole lot more to Slither than we ever could have realized!

If you have any suggestions, leave it in a review or PM for me to say, and I'll tell you if I'll use it and when. Thanks!

I hope you enjoy this book of one-shots. :)

~Destiny