Lilyfrost was young, beautiful, talented, and in love. She had so many toms padding after her but she only had eyes for this one, golden tom.
Unfortunately, he didn't like her back. His name was Brackenpaw. Yes, paw. He was an apprentice.
Actually, Lilyfrost had loved him since he was a kit. She remembered the night he was born. She had ducked in to meet him and his siblings (as an apprentice) and when she saw them, no not them, she remembered, when she saw him she felt something flare in her heart.
She thought it was a motherly love, since she loved kits. But it wasn't.
She lagged in her training so she would become a warrior later than usual and be able to spend more time with him when he was an apprentice. She sacrificed so much.
So imagine, when he walked into camp one day, tails entwined with a cat. But they weren't even a clan cat. It was a kittypet. A little, fluffy tortie, barely out of kithood. But she was pretty. Oh, she was pretty. Big round green eyes and soft mottled fur. She begged Shadestar to take her in, and trained like crazy. Who wouldn't like her? Lilyfrost.
Like her name, she became cold. Frost surrounded her heart. She wouldn't talk to anyone, pushed everyone away. She grew further away from the living world.
Then someone approached her in her dreams. She was just as cold as her, her mate betrayed her and her kits by taking a new mate, and showed her things Starclan didn't know. Every night she hissed sweet words into Lilyfrost's ears, and taught her about something Lilyfrost didn't know about. Revenge.
Revenge was all Lilyfrost thought about. All day and all night. And the day finally came. It was a snowy leaf-bare day.
Brackenpaw, now Brackenfoot, had left for the gathering, leaving his pregnant kittypet mate behind. She had watched Brackenfoot lick his precious mate's ears and weave around her, purring. He would never be able to do that again.
She trailed the queen to the dirtplace, and hesitated. But then the cat of her dreams came back to her. Her amber eyes glowed. "Give her what she deserves." They hissed. Lilyfrost saw her own eyes reflected in theirs full of hate and spite.
She lept for the queen's throat. But a golden blur darted in front of them, taking the death blow. It crumpled to the ground, blood pouring from their throat. Brackenfoot.
"No," Lilyfrost whispered, her voice cracking from lack of use. "Nononononononono."
She felt her frozen heart break into smithereens.
"No!" The tortie queen yowled.
The golden cat didn't stir.
Lilyfrost crumbled.
"No."
She curled up, feeling the snow dot her pelt. She closed her eyes. She would lay here, whether she froze to death or a group of cats came to kill her.
She didn't care.
She was broken.