The sky shone red as the light from the sun began to shine over the horizon. The wind blew gently over the tree's as animals stirred in their nests. In the centre of the forest, two cats crept through the bushes. The first cat was a Strong she-cat. Her light brown fur moved with the wind as she raised her head. Mouth slightly parted to catch any lingering scent, the she-cat twitched her tail irritably.

"The scent is stale here." she mewed to a second cat who came up behind her. This tom was white with large brown patches.

"We could try another area of the forest?" He suggested.

"Yes... We can't just let a rouge tresspass into Thunderclan territory and get away with it." The second cat twitched an ear in agreement.

The little kit squeaked in discomfort as she felt the warm belly of her mother growing steadily colder. It wasn't long before she felt no warmth at all coming from her at all. She didn't understand what was happening as one by one, her siblings stopped squeaking with her and also began to grow cold. She was very hungry but no matter how much she asked her mother would not give her any milk. She felt herself shiver as she also began to get colder. She was only a few hours old and so couldn't open her eyes to see what was wrong.

Suddenly, She heard a strange rustling noise from behind her and she began to squeak again out of fear. She tried to wriggle closer to her cold mother and siblings, wanting them to comfort her and let her know that everything was OK. However, none of them responded. The rustling returned and soon she heard two stranger cats hissing. The kit tried to cry out, fearful of the new cats she tries to call to her mother, but she's too cold to make any noise. The stranger cats stopped hissing and began to speak to one another in angry tones as the kit grew very cold and fell into a dangerous sleep.

"Patchleaf, it's the rouge. She's passed on... And it looks like she kitted... Poor things." The tom mowed.

"I can see that, Owlpelt. We should take the bodies back to camp for Stormstar to decide what to do." Owlpelt didn't reply as he was looking very closely at the kits. Slowly, he leaned foreword and sniffed one of the kits. Without any notice, he dashed foreword and picked up one of the kits in his jaws and began running back to camp.

Owlpelt lay on the ground underneath the highrock. The kit he had brought back lay snuggled into his belly. It was crying for milk. No longer freezing to death, the kit felt the hunger stab through her little belly. Owlpelt wrapped his tail around her, protecting her from the cats that were beginning to gather.

"Owlpelt! What is this?" Owlpelt lowered his head respectfully.

"Stormstar." he greeted and tenderly gave the kit a quick lick before turning back to his leader. "This is the only surviving kit of the rouge who entered the territory last sun-high." Stormstar's ear twitched curiously and he looked kindly at the kit.

"The rouge is dead then?" Owlpelt nodded. "I see." He turned to Patchleaf, his deputy, who had just entered the camp. "Take a small patrol with you and return to the rouge and her kits." Patchleaf nodded and headed for the warriors den. "Why have you brought the kit here?" He purred softly, trying to keep the kit calm. Owlpelt raised his head confidently.

"I don't believe a kit should be judged for who their parents are." Stormstar nodded and flicked his tail, telling Owlpelt to relax.

"Very well, Whitechest is expecting kits in the next few suns. However, be warned, if Whitechest does not accept the kit then there is nothing i can do." Owlpelt nodded, grateful, and stood picking up the kit and made his wasy over to the nursery to talk to Whitechest. Many cats gave the kit displeased looks and Owlpelt bared his teeth at each of them until they turned away. His own kits and mate had joined Starclan only a few moon ago. He wasn't about to let a innocent kit die without trying to help it.

Owlpelt entered the nursery and spotted Whitechest lying on her side, heavy with kits. "Whitechest?" He mewed from the door. His voice muffled by the kit in his jaws.

"Yes?" Owlpelt shyly went further into the nursery.

"I was wondering if you wouldn't mind looking after an extra kit." Whitechest sat up and gave her chest fur a quick lick. Her ear twitched in annoyance.

"It smells like a rouge." She wrinkled her nose sniffing the air. Owlpelts tail and ears drooped slightly. Whitechest sighed. "I guess i cant let a kit starve." She said reluctantly and lay back down. Owlpelt lay his ears back in apology and brushed his tail against her in thanks. Gently, he lay the kit beside her and it began to wriggle closer to her belly and suckle on her milk. Owlpelt gave the kit an affectionate lick on the head and stared at her fur. It was like no other cat he had ever seen in the forest before. She was pale gold, almost yellow, and she had black stripes all over. She reminded him of an incest that looked just like her.

"Beekit." He purred, naming the kit, before leaving the nursery to report to Stormstar.