Bad Apple flicked his tail at me, "That's enough for today. Your shaping up well now that your mind is less distracted, Frost. That's what I want to see." Fear pulsed through my body for a moment, was Bad Apple hinting that he knew about Zander and me? However, I saw nothing but sincere pleasure shining from him. I bowed my head to my father, "Thank you, Bad Apple." I narrowed my eyes and added hopefully, "I try my best." My hope was shattered by his ever-pessimistic views on life. He snarled, "Your best will never be good enough, remember that. One cat can not survive for long alone in Twoleg place."

Frustration and even rage bubbled in my chest. I lifted my head and hissed crossly, "Then why do you keep us in Twoleg place?" I searched his face fearfully for any display of disapproval at my outburst. When I saw none I continued, "We could have moved into Marshclan's old territory. I heard you telling some of the others that they were driven off."

His eyes narrowed and he deducted, "You've been eavesdropping?" I lifted my chin and quoted one of his favorite phrases, "Never pass up the chance to learn something." For a second anger flared in his eyes, he thought I was mocking him. I lowered my head quickly, not wanting to be attacked. I was a great fighter, the best of the kits, but definitely no match for Bad Apple. Surprisingly, he growled with laughter. I made him happy, a feat that is not easy to accomplish. He padded over to me and lashed his long black tail. He pressured, "Why do you think we are still here, when the forest is a better place to live?"

My spine prickled a little as an idea came to mind. An idea so horrible it screams 'Bad Apple'. I spoke gingerly, "The others say it's because Swampclan is too large of a threat right now." I hoped he would be satisfied, but he wasn't. His unnerving crimson gaze bore into me, "And is that what you think, Frost?" I could feel my heart racing and I let my gaze drift to my paws; I had to physically keep my fur from bristling. I didn't answer him. Bad Apple hissed, "Look at me!"

I snapped my head up obediently, my leaf-green eyes meeting his blood red ones. I wanted to shrink back; I didn't like the cold glint I was met with every time we made eye contact. He asked me again, his low, commanding, growl somehow finding my unwilling answer. "Why do you think I am keeping us here?" Somehow I managed to stand tall, but my voice was anything but confident. "Because you want to keep the gang weaker then you and the advisors."

For the first time in my life I saw surprise ripple, briefly, across Bad Apple's face. He took a step away from me and growled, "And why would I do that?" There was no note of anger or denial in his words, only his usual fierceness. I spurted quickly, "Because the regular gang members are of more numbers, and at full strength a rebellion would be devastating against you. You need to be the strongest cat around."

Bad Apple nodded slowly, his eyes full of pride and an unusual joy. He mrrowed, "I never knew it! Frost, you have a great mind; so young and you see so clearly." So I was right? Knowing that made me shiver. He was keeping us all weak! Sending the young out to fight rats, knowing it would keep up tired and constantly injured. Sending the others out on useless battles with the others cats, and keeping them only half fed, so they were not at full strength.

While the advisors were strong, never hungry or tired, and healthy. They were ready to fight and kill if Bad Apple was opposed. Suddenly it all seemed so clear to me, I wanted to run home and tell Gambler. I knew if I did, I was a dead cat; and so was he. My father didn't need to say anything to let me know this should be secret, that suggestive glare said it all. If I slipped, it would be the last thing I ever said.

The muscular black-gray tom weaved around me affectionately, which surprised me more then anything. He growled softly into my ear, "We will put your mind to good use. You want that, don't you? You want to help all your friends, and the gang." I nodded; I would do anything for my gang! He chuckled, "Good, the gang should always come first." He swiped his thin tail down my spine and grinned, a smile full of malice and threat. His eyes twinkled dangerously, "Just remember, Frost, I am the gang."

I nodded and we walked back to the camp together, his words swirling around my mind. I was going to be important! Soon, I would not be little clawing-bag Frost. The outlet for my sister and father's frustrations. I was going to be a war planner, working for the gang. I let my eyes run along my father's body and a small shiver of terror ran through me. No, I wasn't working for the gang. I was working for Bad Apple, and if I let him down….

"Everyone, gather around!" I sat in between the two kits, just twice their young age, but feeling seasons older then that. The gang members trickled from their nests and hiding places, Silas and Fire bolting across the thunderpath. Streak was glaring at me, her pale silver eyes raw with unhidden jealousy. Today, a whole moon early, I was earning my full name. One-part names, unless chosen by the cat, were a symbol of kithood and training. My whiskers twitched with pride, soon I would no longer be just Frost.

Once everyone was here, or almost everyone; who knows; Bad Apple started the meeting. He first nodded to Ice and Chill. They have reached their fourth moon, and would become trainees today. He meowed, "Ice will be trained by Viper, and Chill by Tornclaw." An unhappy growl rumbled out of the brindle she-cat's throat, all eyes turned onto her.

She hissed, "Why do I have to train some useless little scrap like her?" Rippedbelly, Chill's father, who we all know likes his daughter more then his son, jumped to her defense. He spat, "She's larger then Ice is!" Tornclaw wrinkled her nose in disgust, "So their both small and useless. I refuse to train her."

Gasps rippled around the gang, and Tornclaw looked positively thrilled with her defiance. Nobody refused to train they're trainee, it simply wasn't done. There was a shift in the shadows behind her, and claws flashed. Tornclaw let out of squeal of pain as a massive paw grabbed her neck, long claws digging into it and forcing her to the ground. A screech flew from her throat as a second cat came over to her, sinking his powerful jaws into her hind leg.

It was Damien and Jaggedscar; Bad Apple's law enforcers so to speak. They were cruel and merciless; and found real fun in the pain they brought to others. What was worse is that they were as obedient as slaves to Bad Apple. Tornclaw whimpered and hurriedly changed her mind, promising to train Chill better then any other at could.

Jaggedscar sneered and bit down a little harder, drawing out one last yowl, before he lifted his head. His muzzle held the blood of his own gang member, and he just licked it away like it was mouse blood or something tasty. Damien smacked Tornclaw to her feet and sent her scampering beside her new trainee. Bad Apple growled, "Now that all of our distractions are done with," He glared furiously at everyone.

"Today I present Frost to the gang, no longer as a trainee, but as a real member. She has learned all I have to teach her." He did not spring down from his perch and rest his muzzle on my head, as I faintly remember the clan cats doing when I was a kit. But I fiercely reminded myself that I was not a clan cat.

He continued, "She will, from now on, be known as Frostpool." Frostpool! My new name exhilarated me; it made me feel powerful and complete. It- "If…" If! My heart stopped and I turned to stare at Bad Apple in furious shock. What was this trick hidden in his claws? "…she can prove to me that she is worthy of the rank she will be entering as; one of my advisors."

Advisor! A cat of authority and command, of respect if the others wanted to give it to you or not. I wanted it, an ambitious starve roared in my belly and I waited for him to bring on his challenge. I was ready for anything! And of course, I found out once he confronted me with the task, that I was ready for anything except what he had chosen.

Meanstare and Ethereal Dream padded out of the alleyway, dragging a cat in between them. He was young; maybe three or four moons at most. He was dusty and, by the scent of him, clearly terrified; but I could see the swell of fat under his pelt. He was not starving and weak like you'd assume a prisoner of our gang would be.

Bad Apple yowled angrily, "This intruder was found spying on our camp at dawn. His scent has been found many times before, but he's escaped our claws like the slippery snake he his." My father locked eyes with me, a sinister smirk playing across his face. "I want you, Frostpool, to kill him."

The young tom hissed in panic and ill ease. His fur fluffed out in an attempt to make himself look bigger, and he looked for a place to run, but hulking, older, cats blocked all the exits. I looked into his wide blue eyes, my claws slowly unsheathing. Kill this poor creature? He was still a kit! I felt the hostile, judging stares of every other cat on my pelt. But most of all, I could feel Bad Apple's red gaze scorching my back.

In just one second I thought of what would happen if I did, or did not, do this. If I did not he would be beaten to death by the bigger cats; and I would be killed like a traitor; torn apart over the process of a few agonizing days as I slowly weakened from starvation and brutal beatings. We would both suffer. If I did it, he would die quickly, and I would have power; I decided it was for the best.

I curled my lip back and snarled, leaping on the fluffy young cat and bowling him over. I grabbed his shoulders between my front paws and pinned him down. He tried to rake my belly, but his legs were too short. The sight of how pitifully helpless he was sent laughter across the gang, which made me sick. The boy's pale blue eyes met mine and he squeaked, "P-p-please do-don't! I'm s-sorry!"

Sorry, a word foreign to my ears, a word I wish I knew. What was he sorry for anyway? Wandering into a territory he didn't know was claimed by such ruthless cats? Sorry for being so small and helpless? Sorry for being born? I grabbed his little throat between my teeth and his body stiffened. I whispered gently to him, "I'm sorry." I clamped my jaws shut and his body fell instantly limp.

Cats cheered, other cats were silent but their eyes glimmered with amusement. Bad Apple yowled joyously, rallying the excitement of the gang. I was an advisor now; I was Frostpool, no longer a kit. I had power, I had respect, and it sounds like I even had some fame.

My eyes wandered back to the pale, brown tabby kit. Do you know what else I had? I had regret.