Emma Katherine got me to update this time. High five. On a side note, I sent in all my college applications! Which is exciting. I think I forget that I started FanFiction when I was nine, and that most other people on here are probably still nine. I'm not nine anymore. Ah, but Time is the father of truth. Don't pay attention to me, I'm procrastinating.

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Warm and very, very dark. With a sickly sweet scent, like milk and blood. And an aching sort of pain.

Icestar felt that death might be nearby. It seemed to be lurking always in the corner of her vision, a black shape that lost form when she swung her head to face it. But each time that it disappeared, she felt a sense of pity. It seemed to her that the creature, whatever it was, was trying very hard to stay solid and present. It seemed to glitter as it coalesced on the edges of her vision, shining like a sunlit stone that is so tightly gathered around itself that nothing can crack it. But the merest movement of Icestar's gaze sent the creature shattering once more, with an almost audible howl of frustration. I don't mean to destroy you, thought Icestar, writhing in the dark. I only want to look at you. But in the soft stomach of the snake, she could not move fast enough to glimpse the death creature before it broke apart. Soon enough, instead of rage, a feeling of resigned defeat came over her.

Beside her in the predator's belly Stonepelt hung glassy-eyed and unmoving. She supposed he had stopped breathing many moons ago. Or was it only hours? Sparrowtail had been here for some time, floating in the void with her paws occasionally twitching, but little by little, her form too had faded and now it was only Icestar, dead Stonepelt, and the death creature.

During the long and empty silence, Icestar put her vacant mind to use and went over her plans again. It was Eelshadow's responsibility, now that Stoneheart was dead, to instigate a revolt within RiverClan. He had made the task sound simple on that night when their joint scheme was outlined for the first time. Kill Stoneheart, kill Floodstar. Like catching a bird with a broken wing.

In that moment of heat and ambition, Icestar had forgotten Floodstar's cunning. Here was a mind that might almost match her own, in ways that even Eelshadow never could. Where all others were clearly blind, Icestar knew that Floodstar saw. And she had forgotten, in that crucial moment. Eelshadow's arrogance would be his end, as she had always known. Only now, she was afraid that it would also be hers. Unless Eelshadow found some cleverness, their plans would be dashed to pieces in a matter of days.

ShadowClan was left up to Raggedpelt. Icestar had no worries on that score. The brown tom was just as clever and ruthless as she, only not quite so rashly ambitious. He would be content to lead ShadowClan, she knew. One territory was enough for Raggedpelt. But not for Icestar.

WindClan would also be simple. Guststar was weak, Swiftfoot was old, and the two relied heavily on one another. Kill one and the other fell too. There was no other cat who could lead the Clan, Icestar was sure of it. The warriors were all young and naïve, no match for herself or any of her companions. Perhaps she would give WindClan to Redwhisker. The moors would suit her.

Finally, Icestar felt a touch of cold, and knew that the death creature had finally come to her.

"What do you dream of, Heart of Ice?" asked the black cat, whose eyes were white and flat like a clouded sky.

"Dying," answered Icestar, feeling the blood-smell sting her nose.

"Do you fear it?" The black cat circled her slowly.

"I fear it's beginning, but not its end," answered Icestar.

"And how does this dream end?" it asked, blinking at her mournfully.

"I die."

"Yes."

Icestar awoke in the middle of the night. The moss in her bed was wet, and as she swiveled her ears she noted the soft patter of rain on the earth outside her den. She was glad of the rain. A dry greenleaf was just as dangerous as a cold leafbare. With a shiver, she remembered the raging fire that had claimed Tanglethorn's life so long ago. Or perhaps she had killed him. Sometimes it was hard to remember.

No other cats were awake. The moonhigh patrol had returned some time ago and were already snug in their dens. Feeling suddenly very distant from her life, Icestar climbed quietly to the top of the Highrock and crouched at the edge of the stone, ruffling her fur against the chill wind and the gentle drizzle. Perhaps the rain and the cold would make her sick, but for the moment, it almost seemed like a blessing, a chance to forget about all of her duties and her plans and her anxieties for a moment and simply lay her life in the paws of another cat.

Such fantasies had plagued her increasingly often as her time as the leader of ThunderClan wore on. She had strived for it for so long, for her entire life. Yet now, as she slept alone in the leader's den and her thoughts were consumed by Eelshadow's schemes, she sometimes wondered if life wouldn't be better as a common warrior, whose greatest concern was the next piece of fresh kill, or the training of an average apprentice, or a new litter of kits.

These thoughts made her restless. The rain was beginning to seep close to her skin and with a shudder of disgust Icestar leaped down from the Highrock and streaked out of camp, ignoring the damp leaves and twigs that caught and stuck in her pristine fur. She raced up the ravine and towards the river, unsure of what she was hoping to find. Distraction or perhaps a justification of her crimes. But she knew of only one justification, and it was the one warm thing to which she clung.

I am saving them. She told herself as she ran. My Clan. My warriors. My friends, my family. All I have ever known and loved except for my kittypet mother who bears the scars from my own claws. All I have. And I fight to protect them, to give them a better future. I am their mother, they are my kits. I provide for them. I shiver and bleed for them. And I would not have it any other way.

A cat was creeping through the reeds on the opposite bank of the river. Icestar saw the grasses quiver before she caught the scent on the air, and the fur on the back of her neck stood on end. But there was only one cat, stepping daintily towards the water. Icestar was downwind. The warrior had not noticed her presence. She watched him from the tree line, watched his slender form emerge from the mist-shrouded reeds and walk slowly along the river, gazing into the shallows.

The cat was Mintleaf, new deputy of RiverClan. His pelt was nearly as white as hers was, only marred by some splashed of pale gray. He looked ghostly against the shadowed grass, his paws stirring up the white haze and sending it scattering across the river's surface like clouds moving across a dusk sky. Icestar watched him contentedly for a moment, pleased with this strange and unusual meeting beneath the blackened morning sky. Why had he come here? Why had she herself come here? Was it for the same reasons? No, it could not be, but that was the magic of it. Mintleaf had his own impossible and yet very real reasons for leaving his warm nest so early and striding through the cold.

For a moment Icestar considered leaving the trees and going down to the riverbank and calling out to Mintleaf, inviting him to share his thoughts and reveal himself to her, and perhaps even reveal herself to him. Here was a white cat stalking through the reeds with his long tail twitching. Maybe the two morning cats could be friends. Perhaps they knew each other better than they thought.

But with a jaw-tightening sense of melancholy, Icestar retreated deeper into the trees. The leader of ThunderClan and the deputy of WindClan. A dawn rendezvous by the river. It was likely to start a war. War was not Icestar's way.

Before she turned to slip away, Icestar felt a rush of cold through her limbs as a dark shape moved in the corner of her eye. Her heart seemed to stop and she tasted blood, milk, and the almost-fear of death deep in her chest, but as she instinctively scented the wind, her hammering heart calmed. It was not the death creature. It was Eelshadow. She saw him clearly now, making his way carefully towards the riverbank from the north. Mintleaf was still staring pensively at the ripples created by a stir of his paw, oblivious to the arrival of his doom.

A movement of the breeze brought a wave of profound sadness over Icestar. It was as if greenleaf had disappeared, before it had even begun. This was her life. Even the hot sun and the fatal flames of greenleaf could not touch Heart of Ice, who was the stone that would never let itself go. She was cursed to understand love in its purest, hottest form: the love of a mother for her kits. But instead of calming her it enraged her, it drove her mad. This had been StarClan's gift to her, this gift of cold and love and bitter rage.

A thin shriek reached her ears as Icestar left the river. A mouse had been caught in an owl's eager claws. That was all.