It was the middle of the night. Lightstar picked up her two youngest kits and pulled them out of the nursery. She hushed their pitiful mewling and padded across the deserted WindClan camp. The swirling blizzard of snow had forced the usually star-sleeping cats into the warrens surrounding the camp. She trotted quickly through the entrance and down the steep hill.

She passed the RiverClan territory markers, the Twolegplace and the Horseplace before she found the river. She sniffed. Placing her kits under a bush, in a space free from snow; she broke a patch of the ice with a paw. It was shallow enough for her to place her tiny kits into without their heads dropping under the water too often. She turned her back on her kits and never turned back. It was for the best, she reminded herself.

Her kits shivered in the icy cold water. Dawnkit, the dark brown tabby, was licking her sister's fur to try and warm her ailing sister, but she soon gave up. Her sister was dying, and there was nothing she could do.

She prayed to StarClan that someone would rescue them before they died. But she realized that couldn't be. If they were to die, they had to be able to do something to slow it down, just a little.

She scrabbled at the ice to get a pawhold, but it was too slippery. She dug her claws into the ice and suddenly her claws latched onto something and held. She took a deep breath and heaved herself out, grabbing her sister's scruff and yanking her out as well.

Panting heavily, she dragged her sister under the protection of a gorse bush. She just wanted to curl up and shiver, but she knew that if she wanted to survive, she needed to think outside her comfort zone. She began licking her sister quickly, but she was dying. "StarClan, help me!" she meowed at Silverpelt. She smelt something unfamiliar, a fresh scent of pine needles, and felt a warm body at her side.

"Dawnkit, do not worry. Follow what I tell you, and you'll be fine." Dawnkit had an inherent trust of this cat, whoever it was; or perhaps it was desperation. Either way, she listened intently.

"Lick her fur, up the wrong way. It's odd, but it makes her warmer. Quickly, the warmer she can get, the sooner she can wake up," the cat mewed. Dawnkit licked and licked and licked with the last ounces of strength she possessed. "Good, good. Well done. Keep going."

She purred and licked her sister until she stirred. She increased with more and more vigour until the white kit sat up and mewled. "Thank you," Dawnkit breathed.

"StarClan are never far away from you, little kit. I am as certain that my name is Thrushpelt that I will see you soon." She caught a trace of Thrushpelt's delicate pine scent before the StarClan medicine cat was gone.

"Oh, Dawnkit," the tiny white kit mewled. "Why has StarClan abandoned us in this way?"

Dawnkit purred at her sister. "StarClan never abandon us, Skykit. They do this intentionally to test our faith in them. But never, not even when clouds hide Silverpelt from our eyes; never, do they leave us."

Her younger sister purred, admiring Dawnkit's faith in her warrior ancestors. "How are we gonna get home?"


The reality of their situation dawned on Dawnkit. She shrugged her tiny shoulders. "I don't think we're welcome back home."

Skykit was quiet for a few seconds. "Perhaps we should go to RiverClan? Maybe they'd accept us. I heard from the 'paws that it is in the Warrior Code, to always help a struggling kit found alone. Perhaps we should… try and find their camp?"

The kits stumbled and slipped across the icy frozen river and saw an island. They made their way over, mewing loudly.

A RiverClan guard heard faint mewing. He strode into the thick snow towards its source. Two tiny kits, barely three sunrises old, were struggling towards him. He yowled to his fellow-guard and they each took one gently by the scruff and took them into the camp, the blizzard hiding their trails.


The two kits were nuzzled against the chest of a long blue queen, Greenflower. Lapping appreciatively at the milk they were fed, they were soon contented and tired. Curling up together, the last thing they saw was the blue fur of their surrogate mother.

Greenflower mewed to the nearest cat (an apprentice) that she wanted to speak to their leader, and now. The apprentice, Oldpaw, hastily mewed his agreement. Greenflower purred, satisfied. She had raised Oldpaw from kithood; although he was not her own. He belonged to a cat of whom had died delivering her kits in RiverClan territory. He was the strongest kit; and consequently, the only one who survived.

Lionstar soon poked his head around the nursery walls, and Greenflower hastily meowed a greeting. "Hello, Greenflower. What was so important that it needed a poor apprentice to wake their tired leader at moonhigh?"

There was a twinkle in his eye; and Greenflower gestured to the now contentedly sleeping kits. "These kits were found in the middle of a blizzard, with the scent of WindClan all over their drenched fur."

Lionstar's emotion changed; from playful cheekiness to a more serious alarm. "They have to go."