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. . .

Chapter One

"Mama, it hurts!" came Sparrowkit's cry.

He tried dodging his mother's tongue, but was not so successful, and so had to withstand her rather affectionate behaviour.

Mistkit watched the exchange through hooded eyes. He was putting up a good fight, but was no match for the strength of his mother.

Of her love.

She gritted her teeth and turned away. She didn't want to see something so sentimental. Not after everything that had happened so far.

"Again, Mistkit?" a familiar voice sighed.

"Yes, Oakfall," she answered glumly.

"You do know that sitting around isn't going to change anything," the medicine cat pointed out.

Mistkit didn't even bother answering, instead lowering her head and pinning her gaze to the ground.

"Why do you put up with me?" she murmured, mostly to herself.

"What?" Oakfall demanded.

"Why do you put up with me?" Mistkit asked louder, this time looking up and pinning him with sharp, dark-blue eyes. "I'm nothing more than a burden."

Instantly, Oakfall's hard face softened, and he sighed softly. "Oh, Mistkit," he murmured. "You're misunderstanding everything. You're not a burden, no one thinks that."

"Thornstar does," she whispered.

"Yes, Thornstar does," the medicine cat agreed. "But only because he can't get over his own jealousy."

Mistkit cocked her head to the side, confused. "What do you mean by that?" she questioned. "Thornstar can't even stand the sight of me. He hates me."

"No, little one, he doesn't," Oakfall gently corrected. "He's torn, his emotions are ruling him, and there is nothing he can do to stop it. Soon, he will waste away to nothing, and he will resemble a mere shell of who he used to be."

Mistkit only sighed. "You don't hate me, do you, Oakfall?" She gazed up at him with huge, beseeching eyes.

The medicine cat swallowed tightly, hesitated, but Mistkit saw that hesitation as the confirmation of her worst fears.

"You do hate me!" she near wailed.

Her eyes glittered, but she blinked them rapidly. She looked up and fixed him with an accusing stare.

"No, no!" Oakfall denied. "I don't hate you. But I can't take anyone's side. You know this, Mistkit. I'm the medicine cat for StarClan's sake, not your father."

He put his face close to hers and murmured, "You will never have to suffer for the mistakes your parents made."

All of a sudden, Mistkit's earlier sadness practically disappeared, and she looked up at him, curiosity seeping off of her form in waves.

"My parents?" she demanded excitedly. "What about them?"

Oakfall sighed heavily. "A promise I made to your mother," he explained shortly, "before she left for good."

Her eyes widened, and she felt like she had been hit in the chest, such was her agony. It burned, ached, and stung, coiling in her chest like a fiery chasm.

"Now, Mistkit," Oakfall murmured soothingly. "Before you come and accuse me of things that you have no knowledge of, know that your mother loved you. More than anything, more than her own life."

"But why did she leave me?" Mistkit asked sadly.

"Because she was doing what she thought was best for you," he responded.

Mistkit didn't reply, merely frowning thoughtfully at the ground. To her, it sounded as if her mother had come to ThunderClan to give birth, have a rendezvous with the medicine cat, then leave and go back to wherever she had come from.

The thought of her mother's abandonment made Mistkit bitter, but the bitterness did nothing to stave off the immense loneliness and anger stirring inside of her.

"I hate her," she suddenly announced. "I hate her, I hate her, I hate her!"

And, before the medicine cat could reply, Mistkit turned in the other direction and began to run, tears blurring her vision.

She was sick of feeling out of place in a Clan that should accept her for who she was, sick of being stared at like a pariah by the other kits.

The best place for her was in her own head, it seemed.

Mistkit felt her chest begin to tighten, and so she took it as her cue to stop running, before she fell over from exhaustion.

She came to a slow stop just outside of a dip, where she could hear quite a racket.

Perking up curiously, Mistkit crept toward the entrance, peering inside, and was met with the sight of a hollow with red sand and dirt, surrounded by leafy trees.

She heard voices, too, and so ducked into the shadow of a nearby tree so she wouldn't be spotted.

"Ugh, do you have to hit me so hard, Nightpaw?"

"Sorry, Briarpaw," came the sheepish reply.

Mistkit saw that there were four cats in the hollow, and the one that had just spoken was a pitch-black tom.

The first one was a she-cat with light brown fur, and she was small and lithe. The other two were bigger, and were both toms, each with dark-brown fur.

Mistkit continued watching them as they went over what looked to be battle moves, kicking up dust and dirt as they went, and laughing when they failed to land a hit.

Mistkit was so engrossed in just watching that she jerked in surprise when one said that they were finished. And she really didn't want to get caught out of camp, as she was only just a kit (privately, Mistkit thought that some cats didn't even care that she was a kit).

Mistkit took a step back, before fully turning the other way and bounding back to camp.

The first cat she came into contact with was a worried and frazzled Oakfall. The medicine cat had been concerned when she had run off, and, when he couldn't find her in any of her usual haunts, had decided to simply wait for her at the camp's entrance (apparently, no one had questioned the medicine cat on why he was sitting at the entrance instead of going out to collect herbs, or just minding his den).

Mistkit was quick to reassure him that she was fine, but he still pestered her for an examination until she acquiesced.

Mistkit never forgot the cats in the hollow, and she had taken to visiting it whenever she could sneak out of camp, provided that Oakfall didn't catch her, of course.