Disclaimer: I will say this once and only once. I do not own any characters, plots, or anything related to the Warriors series. That solely belongs to Erin Hunter. I own all original characters, locations, and plots relating to this story.

Hello everyone and welcome to my latest story, Heart of Ice. This story will hopefully be my best one yet, as I've been learning how to write better. As you can see in the description, this story is an AU that roughly begins five and a half moons after Sunset. If you don't like AUs, best to leave now before reading the story.

A bitter storm raged over the land, attacking the forest with stinging flurries of ice and snow. No sane creature was out on a night like this. Of course, that didn't stop the calico queen that crouched in the shelter of a bush.

"They say it is a blessing to be born in a storm little ones," the calico queen told her four newborn kittens, "especially in a storm of ice and snow."

Dara covered her kittens with her thick white and ginger tail, trying to shield them from the biting winds that bit their delicate bodies. Her amber eyes sadly looked over her kittens, all shivering with the biting cold as they nursed at their limited milk supply.

Two she-cats. Two toms, Dara noted as she cleaned her children again. Three of them had black, brown and ginger patches on their fur like she did, if slightly paler. The other was as pure as freshly fallen snow, just like his father.

"Bercan," she whispered to the night air. "Are you watching me and our children tonight? They are all precious and would have made you proud."

She snuggled closer to her kittens, trying to warm their frigid forms up with her own cooling body heat. The bush that she had sheltered in to give birth was no where near as warm as the Tunnels. If she had still been home she would've been comfortably nestled in a warm nest in the nursery, the other mothers helping her to deliver her offspring.

But instead Dara was stuck in the freezing snows, nursing the four children of a dead cat. There was no place to seek the solace of a warm place to spend the night with the company of other cats. The scars that she now bore proclaimed her a traitor to all cats that happened upon her.

When Bercan's plan to overthrow the cruel elders that ran the Tunnels had been revealed by a traitor, things had gone horribly wrong. All the loyal cats that had wanted to make life better for their friends and families had all been sentenced to death for an attempted usurpation. Only she had been spared and only because she had been pregnant with kits.

"We shall not take innocent lives," Falon had said to her the night of her exile. "But you shall be banished and left for the First to decide your fate. You shall be marked as the traitor to warn all cats of your deeds and of the bastards you carry in you. No one shall help you or face the penalty of death."

So Dara had been thrown into the cold unknown to brave for herself and the unborn kits she carried, the only remembrance she had of her slain mate. Even as emaciated and pitiful as she was, all possible helpful cats had been turned away by the three scars on her face. All were too afraid of the elders' swift punishment if they were caught helping a traitor.

Only the First had been merciful to her, guiding her tired paws away from familiar territory and into the lands where no one knew of the Hillcats. Dara had travelled away from the exposed hills and into the hiding shadows of the trees. But even the massive guardians of this forest couldn't keep the cold teeth of winter away.

Food had been scarce, even for a resourceful Hillcat. Shelter had also been a problem, for all the hideaways under the tree roots had still been open to the elements. Most of her kits weren't going to survive, Dara knew it.

"Bercan," Dara pleaded to the dark sky up above, "please, watch over our little ones. I shall be joining you shortly." She looked over her four kittens, amber eyes settling upon the weakest one, a scrawny female.

"Daughter, your name shall be Catrina. Pure. Tell your father I will be coming up soon." Dara gently bit down on Catrina's neck, silencing her weak cries.

Her eyes next settled upon her other daughter who had the stench of sickness about her, no doubt from the snow. "Don't worry, little one, I shall end your suffering. Your name is Myrna. Beloved. Please tell Catrina I am sorry." Another soft bite to end a doomed life.

Dara moved to her sons, choosing the scrawniest that had been born deaf. "Little one," she said to her son, "although you cannot hear me in life, I pray you can hear me now to deliver my message. Your name is Shaw. Grove. Tell your sisters I love them dearly, as I love you." The calico queen repeated her mercy kill, sending all three of her children to a better place.

The queen picked up her last kit, the single white tom, and moved him away from the bodies of his siblings and set him down on a warmer under the bush. She then scooped some snow into the bush, covering her three dead kits with the fine white powder.

"Catrina. Myrna. Shaw. May you all rest in peace and know that I am sorry. I pray that the First shall guide you to the heavens where you three shall frolick in the stars forevermore."

Dara turned away, fighting back the overwhelming tide of maternal grief. She turned to her last kit, for although he shivered, showed a will for survival that his weaker siblings did not.

"Son, I pray that you will remember my voice. Know that you are the son of Bercan, the brave cat that wanted only to liberate the Hillcats from the tyranny of the elders. He was murdered in cold blood at Falon's orders. But you still live, little one. You shall be the light in the darkness, the one that will one day lead the Hillcats to freedom. You are my little Solas. My little Light."

Dara picked up her kit up by the scruff, trying to ignore his heartwenching cries of hunger. 'I am sorry Solas', she thought sadly, 'but I have no more milk left. If you are to survive, it will be because the First loves you.'

Squinting her eyes against the stinging flurries, the calico she-cat set off into the freezing night, determined to find a better life for Solas. From the ache in her bones and the cold tendrils that grasped at her mind, trying to pull her into a black abyss, she knew her life was limited. Dara only fought this hard for her kit, then she would give in to death's welcome embrace to be with her beloved.

00000

Rainwhisker cursed softly, moving his paws to warm up his frigid limbs. Trust Firestar to be enough of a mousebrain to not allow the night vigil to be cancelled for the coldest night of all leaf-bare. StarClan, what enemy would have enough bees in their brains to attack on a night like this? You couldn't see a pawstep in front of you and the freezing cold was enough to kill a cat.

But no. The new deputy, Brambleclaw, just had to big the biggest mousebrain in the entire forest.

"Watch the camp entrance harder than ever Rainwhisker," he mimicked mockingly in the deputy's voice. "Go and freeze your tail off waiting for some nonexistent enemy while I remain all warm and happy inside the warrior's den thinking about how great I am compared to you."

Brambleclaw had a head that seriously needed to be deflated. Here was a cat that didn't even have his own apprentice at the time that was magically selected to become deputy when there were so many other better candidates.

"Oh, just because I had a dream of a bunch of cats surrounded by claws growning on stupid brambles means you should be deputy, Brambleclaw," Rainwhisker grumbled in Leafpool's voice. "Let's not put a more capable cat in charge just because a bunch of dead cats said so."

Rainwhisker had to admit that he wasn't too sure if he believed in StarClan anymore. What kind of ancestors would allow Sootfur to die like that? Couldn't they have at least tried to save his brother's life? No, out of all the cats that could have been killed by the badgers, StarClan had taken the life of a young warrior and the medicine cat that was sorely needed after the attack.

A sudden noise interrupted the gray cat's reflections. Lifting his head up, Rainwhisker saw a white, ginger, black and brown shape tumble down the slope in the direction towards camp.

'A cat?' wondered Rainwhisker as he abandoned his post to go and investigate. 'Why would any cat be out in a StarClan-forsaken storm like this?'

Rainwhisker leaned over the tortoiseshell cat, bending over to examine it. The cat was a her, he concluded after smelling her, just recently having given birth to kits. She was dead. No cat could be as cold as she was still be alive. Whomever she had been, the cat had wasn't from the Clans. Underneath the smells of kits and ice, just barely detectable, was the scent of earth, like she had been living in a burrow.

Turning away from the body of the rogue, Rainwhisker scanned the area for any sight of the presumably dead kits that had also perished in the snows. Straining against the snowflakes, he saw a white shape lying limp near a tree trunk.

Bending over to retrieve the dead kit, the night vigil's eyes widened in surprise as he heard the faint sound of a heartbeat just audible over the roar of a storm. Thinking fast Rainwhisker grabbed the kit and rushed into camp.

"Leafpool! Leafpool!" he shouted through the tomkit's thick white fur.

0000

A deathly silence hung over the nursery as a ginger queen bent over her kits, her grief for her stillborn litter almost tangible. Brambleclaw buried his nose in Squirrelflight's fur, just as distraught over the death of the children he had never even known.

"These things happen sometimes," Leafpool sighed as she looked over the three tiny bodies. "If a she-cat is especially young and is having her first litter, there is always a risk of these things happening."

Squirrelflight said nothing, just stared at her three kits with clouded green eyes. "Lionkit. Hollykit. Jaykit," she whispered softly.

Her gaze flickered from the dead kits and up to where Sorreltail was calmly sleeping with her litter. She had turned her back on the gruesome sight, shielding her four kits from the horrible stench of blood and death. Daisy had left as soon as the first stillborn kit had been delivered, preferring to sleep with her three living apprenticed children than willingly remain in that den of death.

'Why?' Squirrelflight growled silently as she laid eyes upon Sorreltail. A red tide of envy and rage had boiled up inside her as she glared longingly at the queen that seemed so at peace with her kits. 'Why do you get to be a mother and I don't? All I want to do is love my kits!' She turned back to Lionkit, Jaykit and Hollykit, weeping upon their bodies. 'StarClan, is my destiny to die of a broken heart?'

"Leafpool! Leafpool!"

The medicine cat looked away from her sister and into the frantic blue eyes of Rainwhisker and then to the small white kit that limply dangled in his jaws. He set it down and quickly explained, "His mother died at the camp entrance, Leafpool. He's all alone in the world as far as I know. But he needs a medicine cat."

"Thank you Rainwhisker," she calmly told the gray cat. "I believe I can handle this from here. Go back to your post. Squirrelflight, Brambleclaw," she turned to her sister and the deputy, voice calm despite the comotion, "Will you two please help warm this kit up?"

The ginger queen momentarily forgot her grief and focused on this tiny kit. Lionkit, Jaykit and Hollykit were gone, but this one was still here. She and Brambleclaw rubbed their paws against the tomkit, desperately trying to get some warmth backed into his body.

"It worked," Brambleclaw gasped as the tiny kit began to shiver and cry weakly. He unconciously sought the comfort of his mother and burrowed into Squirrelflight's ginger fur, suckling.

"He needs a mother," Leafpool said to her sister. "Will you be that cat?"

Brambleclaw looked down at the white tom and to his mate. "He can never replace our original kits," he told Squirrelflight. "But StarClan led this kit's mother to us for a reason. Perhaps we are meant to be his parents."

Squirrelflight looked down at the white kit and felt a wave of unconditional love wash over her. "Yes," she whispered so as not to break the sudden euphoric silence. "He will be our son, Brambleclaw. Our little kit."

"He needs a name," the dark tabby mewed. "Snowkit, perhaps?"

The ginger queen shook her head. "I would prefer not to give him a name linking him to the tragic death of his birth mother," she replied somewhat flatly. "Nor would Icekit work either."

Other names were also rejected, for none seemed to fit the kit.

'Come on,' she thought to her adopted son. 'Something has to fit you.'

Some name had to fit her little miracle. He was basically the hope in her despair, if she wanted to get all sentimental about it, the light in her darkness.

"That's it," she meowed. "Lightkit."

Brambleclaw's amber eyes narrowed, mulling over the name. "Lightkit?" he repeated, not entirely taken by the idea. "Doesn't that sound a bit strange for our son? I want him to fit in and give him no reason that he's not a Clanborn cat."

"Come on, Brambleclaw," she protested. "He's a gift from StarClan. A little light in the darkness of mourning. Surely the name fits? Besides, his pelt is light-colored, too. His name isn't that strange afterall."

"It does seem to fit," Leafpool admitted. "I've known cats with stranger names than Lightkit and it certainly suits him better than Snowkit."

"All right," Brambleclaw conceded. "Lightkit it is." He nuzzled his mate and beamed down at his son with fatherly pride.

Leafpool turned to the forgotten bodies and sighed. "Shall I bury the bodies, Brambleclaw?"

The dark tabby nodded. "No one needs to know about this Leafpool. As far as the rest of the Clan is concerned, Lightkit was the only kit born tonight."

00000

All was quiet in ThunderClan again. Squirrelflight had fallen asleep with Lightkit and Leafpool had returned from the burial of the stillborns. Very few now knew of Lightkit's secret.

'But there was still the matter of the birth mother's body', Brambleclaw thought.

With all of the unconditional love he felt for Lightkit upon saving him from death, came the unresistable urge to protect his offspring. Anything threatening was to be immediatly dealt with to make sure Lightkit had as normal as a kithood as possible.

Brambleclaw padded past Rainwhisker, silencing the warrior's unasked questions with a commanding glare. The chilling cold and the stinging flakes did not bother him, the warmth from the love of Lightkit and Squirrelflight was enough comfort for him.

"Thank you," he breathed into the dead she-cat's ear, siezing her frozen body by the scruff and carrying her off into the forest. As he set about to burying the tortoiseshell, Brambleclaw idly wondered about this she-cat. Why had she journeyed so far with a newborn kit? Why did she have no scars except for these three black marks across her face?

Well, who ever she was was dead and gone. Her soul was now journeying to wherever rogues went when they died. Brambleclaw finished with her grave, burying the memory of Lightkit's rogue mother and all thoughts of the stillborn litter with her.

Now there was the matter of Lightkit's cover story to attend. As far as ThunderClan, including Firestar, knew, Lightkit was his and Squirrelflight's one and only kit, no questions asked. No one deemed unworthy would know and eventually the secret would die with him.

Squirrelflight knew, of course, and no doubt Leafpool could be trusted as well. Sorreltail and her kits had been sleeping and Daisy would've assumed that Lightkit was the only survivor of the litter. But then there was Rainwhisker.

'No doubt he'll tell Firestar about Lightkit and his birth mother,' Brambleclaw thought. 'All chance at Lightkit at having a completely normal, unbiased life would be ruined!'

There was no way to keep the gray tom quiet forever. Once it got out that the deputy had been forcing a warrior to keep quiet, big punishment from the wrathful Firestar would follow. Yes, there was only one way to finish his task.

"Rainwhisker!" he barked roughly as soon as camp came back into view. "Come with me."

The gray tom's eyes bulged in surprise and he shivered. "Why?" he asked hoarsely, throat sore from being out in the blizzard for so long.

"To do a border patrol of course," Brambleclaw replied tersely. "ShadowClan might decide to attack tonight. There's enough coverage for them to sneak right up to the camp entrance undetected until it is too late."

"But I'm already watching the camp entrance," Rainwhisker complained. "Couldn't you just get some fresher warriors to help instead, like your apprentice?"

"Berrypaw's too young to deal with a cold night like this and I am not going to wake the other warriors and risk their wrath. You're already up and ready to go. Besides," Brambleclaw's eyes narrowed menacingly, "you're not going to deny a direct order from Firestar, are you?"

Rainwhisker bit back the next protest with a gulp of terror and quickly hurried off behind the deputy, cursing as his frostbitten paws sunk deeper into the snow as they trudged to the ShadowClan border. He only kept himself going with thoughts of the tender rabbit and the warm nest that was waiting for him back at camp.

"Warm food, warm nest. Warm food, warm nest," he repeated quietly. He was too absorbed in trying to keep walking, that he didn't notice the deputy's sharp claws unsheathing or the cold light in his amber eyes.

Rainwhisker never made it back to his warm nest.

And so, that concludes the prologue.

Brambleclaw's finally showing some of his father's cruel calculating ways at last. A father will do anything to protect his child, right? Also that's sort of my version of Rainwhisker's mysterious death.

On the matter concerning Dara and the Hillcats, all their names are in Gaelic, a language used in the northern parts of Great Britain. Everything about the rebellion, the First, the Tunnels, and Bercan will be explained in time so keep reading.

For those interested here are the other translations for the Gaelic names.

Dara: mother-of-pearl

Bercan: spear

Falon: leader