Leaf-bare's grip on the forest territories tightened, taking precious prey with it, and the clans were starting to feel the squeeze. Mostly of empty bellies, and there were a few tense standoffs on the borders over prey jumping from one to the other, with the prey usually going to the clan that desperately needed it.

Russetstar stared at the stringy squirrel the hunting patrol had brought back and sighed as she nibbled on it. Her face screwed up in disgust at the cold meat and she pushed the rest towards the apprentices, who took a few bites, mirroring her expression. She got to her paws and stretched from nose to tail, before padding off to organize training for her clan.

ThunderClan wasn't much better off. Most of the prey was buried under the snow and what wasn't was scrawny and barely worth the time and effort it took to catch. The clan made do, however loud their bellies growled, and their patrols were diligent in their duties.

WindClan was slightly better off, even with the biting cold that roared over the moor. They knew where rabbit burrows were and the occasional bird that landed in search of food usually became prey at the swift paws of the clan's hunters.

RiverClan, without access to the river and its fish, had it rough, but their tried and true hunting methods, coupled with forays at Sunningrocks, gave them enough to keep themselves going.


Mistyfoot and Silverstream padded across the frozen river, ears alert for any sounds of creaking or cracking ice, and once they were safely across, they relaxed slightly, shaking themselves to stay warm.

"The sooner we find something, the sooner the clan can eat and the less yowling I'll have to put up with from bellies and kits," Silverstream mewed, sniffing the ground. There were a few stale mouse trails and she sighed. "But it looks like we're not getting much."

Mistyfoot paused, ears flicking to and fro. "I can hear prey in the forest." She gazed at the trees and licked her lips. "Now if only the prey decided to come out here…"

"All you have to do is ask," a voice called, and the two mollies turned as a fluffy gray tom emerged from the undergrowth, a pair of mice in his jaws.

"Graystripe!" Silverstream mewed in surprise, before running over to nuzzle him with a purr. She pulled back and looked him over. "You've gotten thinner."

Graystripe shrugged. "That's just how it goes." He dropped the mice and rolled them towards her. "I was coming to bring this to RiverClan. We can spare this," he assured them as Silverstream and Mistyfoot exchanged looks.

Mistyfoot nodded, before taking the mice. She glanced at Silverstream, who flicked her tail.

"I'll be along," she mewed. "I'd like to catch up with Graystripe."

Mistyfoot's nose twitched and she went back over the river. The two cats watched her go before putting their heads together and purring.

"I miss you," Graystripe murmured. Silverstream gazed at him and smiled, touching her nose to his.

"So do I, but I've got some new faces to keep me company." She twitched her nose at Graystripe's bemused expression. "We rescued some kits and have been raising them, and I am their foster mother. Mosspelt's feeding them."

Graystripe's brows rose. "Congratulations," he purred warmly. "No doubt they take after you?"

"As luck would have it, the tom resembles you," Silverstream grinned. "His name is Stormkit, and his sister is Featherkit." Her mew turned thoughtful. "At least we think they're siblings. Hard to tell without knowing where they came from."

Graystripe nodded. "They have a good home, and a great mother to look after them. Maybe once it warms up and they can get around on their own, we can arrange a meeting?"

"Of course," Silverstream murmured softly.

The two cats purred together as they snuggled close.


Fireleap pawed through Spottedleaf's store of herbs, picking out the useless ones from amidst the useable and dried ones.

Spottedleaf's brow furrowed as she watched the discard pile grow larger.

"This abrupt cold did a number on them," she mewed, tossing them into the undergrowth.

"Cobwebs are useless as well," Fireleap grumbled, throwing out a frozen bundle of them.

"That's not quite a concern, since there's alternatives that thrive even in winter," Spottedleaf assured her, before her amber eyes darkened with worry. "Just worried about white and greencough, which tend to crop up around this time of season and can easily cripple an entire clan if not treated."

Fireleap's pelt prickled. "What's the treatment?"

"Coltsfoot, or chickweed, although catmint's usually the preferred method."

"Ah," Fireleap mewed, nodding, before looking at where she'd planted the catmint. Which was covered in frost. "That…may be a problem."

"Mhm, although I think the patches at Twolegplace and the farm are better protected," Spottedleaf mewed.

"The ones at the houses are closer if we need it," Fireleap mewed, with a sly glance at Spottedleaf. "Although I'm sure you wouldn't mind seeing Rusty again either."

"With a cat's life on the line, I'll take the houses," Spottedleaf mewed dryly. "I can visit him when things are safe. And warm." She fluffed out her pelt. "The dens should be warm enough from the apprentices' efforts. Problem now is prey, since hungry cats are more vulnerable to sickness."

"We're doing… reasonably well on food. The cold helps it keep longer, even if it gets tougher to eat," Fireleap mewed. "And we can always hunt along the borders if there's no prey near to camp. The exercise will also help keep cats warm and that helps ward off coughs too, right?"

Spottedleaf nodded, purring warmly. "I've taught you well."

Fireleap ducked her head, ears heating. "I couldn't ask for a better teacher."

The two mollies touched noses before getting back to work.


Rusty poked his head out of the barn, wrinkled his nose at the cold, and pulled it back in.

"Doubt the clans like this weather," he mewed, flicking snow off his whiskers. Yellowfang cocked an ear at the howling wind outside and shook her head.

"This is the kind of weather that drives prey underground for a while," she remarked. "There's going to be tight bellies among the clans for the foreseeable future."

"Not around here," Barley grumbled. "The mice have been driven inside and basically have nowhere to go, so I keep practically tripping over them, and since I've already eaten, I'm not going to waste the time killing them."

"Oh, is that why there were mouse droppings in my nest this morning?" Rusty grumbled.

Barley stifled a snort and Yellowfang glanced at them both, before shaking her head. "At least we're warm here." She fluffed up her pelt and tail, before she began grooming herself. "The clans might be miserable, but this is hardly the worst cold they've had."

"Depends on which clan or cat you ask," Rusty mewed dryly. "The short-pelts probably treat every Leaf-bare as the worst, whereas the thick-pelts are a little more lenient with their grumblings." He looked around at the barn walls and ceiling. "Plus, ThunderClan and ShadowClan have trees to help break up the wind, whereas WindClan's out on the moor and…I'm not that sure about RiverClan, to be honest."

"It's cold there too, on account of the water freezing over," Barley meowed.

Rusty blinked at him. "Thank you kindly." His ears twitched at a creak of the barn shifting in the wind. "Maybe once this dies down I can take prey to the clans. I'm sure they'd appreciate it."

"Something tells me you're not going to be able to carry enough for every clan," Barley mewed.

"That's true. Probably start with ShadowClan, given how they've been treated the past few seasons," Rusty meowed, flexing his paws, stretching them out in front of him.

"What if WindClan stops you?" Yellowfang asked.

"I hope they understand. If not, I give them the prey and come back here for more." Rusty glanced at Barley. "There should be enough for that, right?"

Barley was staring off into the dark, listening to the scrabbling of mouse paws on the wooden boards. "I imagine so, yeah."

"Take care of yourself out there," Yellowfang mewed. "Mind the cold, and watch where you step."

"I will," Rusty mewed, as the winds continued to howl.