Something was cold. Not the air, which did happen to be cold as well. But something else. Something not felt or smelt or tasted, no. It was something you knew. The kind of thing that you can feel coming from a mile away, but you're not sure how. These were the thoughts- the first thoughts ever thought- Clover was thinking on that crisp, piercing morning that she was born.
And just as her thoughts began to get interesting and mysterious, something cold and small startled her. She began to stretch open her eyes to see a little white… thing on her nose. "Wha…?" she began to mutter. But she stopped when she took a look around. She had never opened her eyes before, and her first glimpse of the world was, well, white. Swirling flurries of snow surrounded her, and its cold gave her a chilling, but delightful sting. But she also felt warm. She turned her head a little and saw her mother for the first time. She was a beautiful, long-furred silver she-cat, with calm green eyes.
Clover looked down at her own body. But instead of long fur and silver, she saw short fur and grey and white spots. Spots? Why did she have spots?
"Oh, you are awake!", Clover turned to see a kit her same size talking to her excitedly, "I thought you might be dead!"
"Dew!" her mother scolded, "that's no way to speak to your sister."
Suddenly, it all made since. The kit that looked her same age was her sister. She should have known that they shared the same mother because Dew had the same silver fur, but hers was short like Clover's. The first thing Clover really noticed about her was her piercing amber eyes. They look somewhat strange with her shimmering body.
"I opened my eyes hours ago! So, how do you like seeing, Clover? What do you think of all this snow?"
"It's cold."
Dew rolled her eyes "Wow, I didn't know you would be such a great observer." She smiled. "Well, now that I know you are smart, let me see what other skills you have." Suddenly, her sister scooped up some snow from the bottom of the makeshift den, and hurled it at her "Think fast!" she said as she threw it.
"Hey!" Clover ducked out of the way, but her ear skimmed some of the snow. She turned to Dew, feeling surprised and hurt that her sister would attack her like that. Then, she noticed amusement glowing in Dews eyes and realized that this was a game. She purred in amusement. "Take this!" She screeched as she flung her own pile of snow at her sister. But her sister was faster than she was. She ducked out of the way just in time.
So they continued like this for hours, there mother watching attentively.
The sun was going down as Dew half-heartily tossed a small bit of snow to Clover. Clover sighed. And yawned. And sighed again.
"Don't you think we should head back to the den now?" She muttered. Glancing at the den a few feet away. "I'm kind of tired."
"Yeah, I guess." Dew tried to sound cool, but Clover could tell there was relief in her mew. They trudged into the den, snow sticking to their short fur.
"Were back!" Dew called to their mom, who looked as though she already knew. She must have been watching them through the twigs that surround the nest. "Okay," she said "but first, I am going to tell you two a story."
Clovers ears perked up. "A story? I've never heard one before!"
Dew rolled her eyes. "Neither of us have, smart one."
Clover winced at her harsh tone. "Alright you two, settle down! Now, this story begins long ago in a forest far away…"
Then their mother began her story, that went a little something like this;
"There once was a forest. This forest was bordered by land with rivers running through them, marshland, and moorland. Each of these area had different prey, and different features. One day, some cats came to these lands and made territories. They split up depending on which environment they were best adapted to. The ones who were fast and had long legs lived in the moor, because they could chase the rabbits. Those with small, sleek bodies lived in the river area, so they could swim. The quiet cats with average, dark bodies lived in the marsh, because they could stalk easily there. And those who had strong, large builds adapted to the forest, where they could hide in the undergrowth.
They began to make rules, and rituals that all four groups- called clans- followed. Every once in a while a cat would go bad and try to take more than he deserved, but he was always put back in his place. These cats were happy, and had peace in their lands."
As their mother finished her story, Clover yawned and sleep clouded her brain. She glanced at her sister, who was already fast asleep. Then she looked at her mother and asked her a question that had been nagging her all day.
"Mom, what is your real name?" Her mom closed her eyes and whispered quietly "Dawn." She said, "My name is Dawn."