Icekit hated being in the WindClan nursery. When the small white kitten wasn't being ignored by her mother, she usually had to deal with the white and ginger Blossomtail's snide comments. Not to mention her three spoiled kits, Ratkit, Bluekit, and Sunkit. They took advantage of the fact that they were the only kits shown affection from the Clan. Until Paleflower had hers.

The pale gray she-cat was plucking feathers out of a blackbird and listening to Blossomtail boasting about her kits again. Silverfang was washing her paws as she watched the cats outside with envy. She loathed being stuck in the nursery as well, but Dovestar had ordered the silver tabby to stay until Icekit's apprenticeship. Another reason to fuel Silverfang's hatred. Her green eyes never glowed with a mother's love like her denmates. Icekit wished that she had gone against her leaders orders. She was a terrible mother. She was glad that she hadn't inherited her looks.

She often dreamed about the moment her father would burst into camp and come to take her away from the cruel Clan. Free of the warrior code and StarClan's ever-watching gaze. Of course it was all dreams. Her father had abandoned them all and was never coming back. Rouge life still fascinated her and one day she'll leave to claim her own territory. She'd find a mate and create a new family. One day be a better mother than Silverfang, Blossomtail, and Paleflower. She turned away so she wasn't caught staring and made her way to the back of the nursery where she slept alone.

She relaxed into the moss as she waited for the queens to finally settle down and sleep. They took pleasure in napping at sunhigh which made it the best time to sneak out to observe the Clan. She had found a small hole in the back when she was only a moon old and it had been her way of sneaking out ever since. She didn't have to ever worry about stepping on Shelldawn's tail on her way out. Three moons later and the light gray elder still complained about it to her denmate, a dark brown tabby tom named Stagfur. The other elder usually tuned her out by eating whatever he could get his paws on. Icekit liked him better because he prefered food over bullying her.

Luckily for Icekit, only three warriors were in camp, two she-cats grooming each other on the other side of the sandy hollow. On top of the Tallrock sat Runningwhisker, the lithe brown deputy casting an amber beam over the cats. He passed by Icekit without a word. If a cat didn't hate her, they ignored her. She wouldn't have mind if they didn't just let the others abuse her. Another reason to go rouge. But she would have no one to teach her to hunt or fight for two moons. One day. . .

Her attention turned as a cat crept into the camp, stepping from the gorse tunnel with fuzzy leaves in her mouth. The cat that Icekit hated the most, with just one exception. The cat who had ruined her chance at a good life by telling the Clan that she was evil and would destroy them all. Marshleaf, the black-pelted she-cat with paranoid green eyes. She hissed at her the first day she opened hers.

"A curse," she had growled at her. "Beware the beast with the icy stare."

Icekit tensed while she strolled by, nodding at Runningwhisker without a word. She watched as the cat went in and out of the medicine den, going to check on Dovestar. The WindClan leader was a strict gray she-cat with dull yellow eyes. She had been ill with fever ever since she lost a life and Marshleaf was worried about her losing this life too. Icekit didn't care if she lost this one or any of the other. She could still remember how she was avoided by Dovestar for the first two moons of her life. So when she saw how much smaller Icekit was, she seemed relieved. But she had seen the small flash of fear that danced across her gaze. She never bothered visiting Icekit again. Another cat to ignore. Icekit had tried to approach her, often stopped by another cat.

"Dovestar, you should be resting," the medicine cat followed her leader out of her den like a shadow. "You've been up all night."

"I'm fine, Marshleaf," Dovestar huffed. "Don't go wasting all your herbs on me."

"You're the most important cat we have," the black she-cat responded. "I'll use all the herbs in the forest to make you feel better."

"She's right," Runningwhisker blinked. "This sickness can't be normal."

"It must be that curse," Marshleaf's fur stood up. "We should have gotten rid of Icekit. Everything has starting going wrong since Silverfang's nursing."

"Which was four moons ago," Runningwhisker reminded her. "You'll get nothing fixed being so paranoid. That kit couldn't have gotten her sick. It must be something else. StarClan must be wrong."

"Have you forgotten who I am?" Marshleaf snapped at him. "StarClan has never been wrong. We are all doomed!"

"Enough," Dovestar stepped between them. "I've already made up my mind about Icekit. You'll just have to wait."

"And if StarClan can't?"

"We have to trust our ancestors and not be reckless."

"Of course," Runningwhisker purred.

"Yes," Marshleaf muttered. "I'll wait if I must. I have to hope that we don't regret your decision."

"So what are we to do about ThunderClan?" the deputy changed the subject smoothly. "More of them have been scented at the border."

"Send a small patrol," Dovestar flicked her tail, motioning Marshleaf to come with her back to her nest. "Give him a little reminder that we won't tolerate them on our land."

"Should I get some warriors to guard the nursery and elders?" Runningwhisker got to his paws.

"Do what you must."

Icekit couldn't help but want ThunderClan to attack. Maybe she'd get abducted like some of the kits in the stories the elders told of cats who switched Clans. How would her life be different living with another Clan? Would they treat her better? Or were all Clan cats as superstitious as Marshleaf? It at least gave her something to dream of that night.