CHAPTER ONE

Maybe, if prey had been more plentiful and sheets of glistening ice hadn't covered the streams and ponds of their territory, everything would have turned out differently. But as it was, RiverClan was short on food, and Fogpaw wasn't about to let this rabbit go.

She tracked it through a strand of frost-covered rushes, the snow crunching beneath her paws as she tried to pinpoint its location. It couldn't scent her – the wind was wrong and she was camouflaged behind reeds and barren shrubs – but it could definitely hear the crust of ice breaking with each of her steps, and so it kept bounding forward, hiding underneath whatever shelter it could find. Fogpaw knew she should just pounce, but she needed to be sure before she leapt. If she missed and the rabbit ran off, she would have no chance of recapturing it.

Leafbare had swept over the lands by the lake, trapping the Clans in its icy grasp. Though prey was scarce everywhere, the cold really took its toll on RiverClan. With the streams frozen and lake covered by treacherous membranes of ice, they were forced to rely solely on hunting instead of fishing. Fogpaw gritted her teeth. Whitestream had taught her how to hunt, how to stalk prey and chase after it, but all of that knowledge seemed to have escaped her mind.

The air was cold and dry; it seared her nose and cracked the skin of her pads, making her feel brittle and fleshless. Fogpaw had been born during the days of warmth, and while her parents had told her stories of the cold, she had never expected it to be like this. They would be expecting her back at camp any time now, and she couldn't disappoint them. Her father was deputy! It would do Reedthroat no good if the Clan thought his daughter was useless.

Rainpaw would make fun of her too. Fogpaw scowled. He wasn't the one out here trying to catch this rabbit. Oaktail had taken him out to patrol the ShadowClan border. They had been quiet since Falconswoop's betrayal, and she expected that nothing exciting would happen to her brother on his patrol. He might even catch something, which meant that she had to bring this rabbit back to camp.

Whitestream had emphasized the need for prey. Though no cats in RiverClan had been afflicted by whitecough as of yet, the threat always lingered. Birdkit and Marshkit were young, and Lilystream was constantly hungry, her belly swollen with kits. Fogpaw was determined not to let any of them down.

The rabbit stopped, pink nose quivering, and sniffed the crisp air. Fogpaw halted, hiding behind a mess of tangled bracken. The ground was beginning to slope underneath her, and she realized that they were nearing WindClan territory. Clearly, the rabbit thought it would be safer in the shelter of the heather. Fogpaw crept closer, bunching her muscles. She wouldn't let it get that far.

The rabbit turned toward her. She saw its eyes widen, and then it froze. Fogpaw felt her heart leap into her throat. She hesitated for half a second, and then she pounced, throwing herself towards the animal with her claws extended. The she-cat could almost taste its warm juice in her mouth.

But the rabbit was faster.

It ran from her at breakneck speeding, hurtling over roots and rocks in its path. Fogpaw followed more clumsily. The rabbit seemed to know the ground underneath its paws, but she found herself growing more and more inept as she lunged after it. Stones kept appearing in her path, fallen branches cutting her off. Fogpaw skidded to a stop, breathing heavily. Her paws were slick with sweat, her long grey fur fluffed up around her. Foxdung!

She wasn't sure when it had disappeared, only that it was gone. Fear-scent hung in the air around her, along with another scent, something acrid that burned on her tongue. It was familiar. Fogpaw frowned. It wasn't...it was...WindClan. Panic struck her. They were invading!

Then, slowly, rational thinking swept through her mind. WindClan wasn't on her territory – she was on theirs. Fogpaw felt a shard of fear stab through her. She must have crossed the border in her desire to catch the rabbit. The she-cat twisted around. How would she get back? If she just walked straight from here, would she find herself back on RiverClan territory? But what if a WindClan patrol found her first? If they found her and told Toadstar that she had crossed the border, the leader would kill her. Rainpaw would never let her live it down!

She was suddenly very uncomfortable. The ground was rough and unfamiliar, the limp strands of dead heather strangely foreboding. Around her, hills rose up, strange and monster-like. Beyond them, the sun was beginning to set. Fogpaw felt the fear stab through her again. She needed to go back.

Then another scent entered her mouth, dark and acrid and strangely compelling. Fogpaw frowned. As bad as WindClan smelled, they were nothing like this. It was horrible, and yet she found herself filled with a burning curiosity. Against her will, her paws began to follow it.

No. Fogpaw tried to pull away. It was nearing night, and her family would be waiting for her. Morningstep would begin to fret if she was away for too long. Reedthroat would pace and lash his tail as she had seen him do a million times before. It was his customary gesture whenever she found herself in trouble. This time, though, it wasn't her fault. I didn't mean to break the rules!

Toadstar would have to punish her. He had only been leader for two moons, and he needed to show the Clan that he could be a strong leader. He had been a good deputy – or so she had heard – but that meant nothing now. According to Reedthroat, who she had overheard talking to her mother, these next few moons would decide the new leader's legacy.

Rainpaw would rib her about it for the next moon if she was caught. Her brother was a stickler for the rules; he was like a miniature version of their father, though his fur was black instead of beige, and his eyes pale slate. Though they cared about each other – they were siblings, after all – he had no tolerance for her mischief. Fogpaw often told him to lighten up. He never listened.

She became aware that she was wandering deeper into WindClan territory. The sun vanished behind the crest of a hill, leaving only streaks of orange and purple to lighten the quickly-dimming sky. Fogpaw shivered. Even her long, puffy coat couldn't keep her warm at a time like this. She had been so proud of it during the first snow. I'll be warm all leafbare, she had boasted to Hazelpaw, I won't feel a thing. He was Hazelthorn now, though, and she was freezing.

Fogpaw wished that there were more apprentices in RiverClan. Right now it was only her and Rainpaw, though Tawnyfeather's kits would soon be of age. It made her lonely. When she had been a kit, there had been four apprentices: Lilypaw, Russetpaw, Goldenpaw, and Hazelpaw. Now Lilystream was a queen, Hazelthorn and Goldenfur were newly named, and Russetpaw...no one wanted to speak of Russetpaw. For awhile, there had even been that ShadowClan tom staying with them – Sootclaw, she thought. Fogpaw could recall tumbling over his paws without a care in the world.

The scent grew stronger as she followed it through the hills. Every fibre of her body told her that she shouldn't be doing this, that she should simply go back, but Fogpaw couldn't help herself. WindClan had been acting distant lately – though they still came to Gatherings, they seemed off, and their border markings were seldom fresh – and her naturally curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted to know what could possibly smell this foul.

Maybe it would explain everything.

The scent became overpowering. Fogpaw came to a stop and looked around, suddenly engulfed in the heavy odour. There was a rustle in the gorse behind her and she whipped around, yellow eyes wide and neck fur fluffed. "Who's there?" she called out, forgetting that she was the trespasser. No true warrior would hurt an apprentice...right? WindClan had always been honourable cats. That was what her father said, and Reedthroat was always right.

"We should ask the same of you," growled a voice, deep and terrible to her ears. Fogpaw spun back around to see a large brown tom padding toward her. He was followed by a long-legged silver she-cat whose eyes were hard as flint.

"Knock her out," commanded the she-cat, voice cold and careless.

Something hard struck the back of Fogpaw's head. She let out a cry and collapsed to the ground. The she-cat was dimly aware of someone stepping over her. "We can't let her go now," said a voice, and then everything went black.

x x x

Chantelle woke to stiff joints and an ache in her bones. She roused herself and padded out from underneath the frosted ferns, shivers running through her lean body. It's so cold, she thought. She wasn't used to winters like this. Her body was too skinny for them, her black fur too sparse. It was always warmer in the city; out here, there were no buildings to hold back the howling wind.

Beside her, Beck let out a groan and began to stir. The huge golden tabby was sprawled out by a large, flat stone, pitiful shelter from the breeze. He turned over, obviously uncomfortable on the hard earth. Chantelle barely gave him a second glance before jumping to the top of the rock, scanning the white hills around them. There was no sign of danger, which was good, but there was no sign of prey, either. The she-cat opened her mouth to scent. Nothing.

"Looking for me?" It was Alder's voice. She turned to see the brown tom trotting toward her, a fresh vole clutched in his mouth, its fur spotted with snow. His amber eyes were warm as he dropped it in front of her.

"No," she said, though she was always looking for him, in a way. Chantelle jerked her head toward the vole. "Is that for me?"

He nodded. "You looked like you needed it. How did you sleep?"

She was slightly miffed that he thought he needed to look out for her, but it was Alder, so she didn't mind too much. "Alright," Chantelle said grudgingly. "It's different here."

Alder blinked sympathetically. "You didn't have to come."

"Don't be ridiculous," she snapped. Alder wasn't taken aback; he was used to her by now. Feeling somewhat guilty, the she-cat softened. "Of course I did."

"I'm glad you did," he told her, and the words warmed her heart, though she would never let him see that. Chantelle sniffed and pulled the vole toward her, tearing into with her teeth. It felt heavy in her shrivelled stomach, but she devoured it anyway, trying to ignore the queasy feeling that resulted when she was done.

"I'm going to go back out," Alder mewed once she had finished. He was sitting on his haunches, tired and worn. His ribs were visible through his once-lustrous brown fur, and though his face was still as jovial and handsome as ever, it was obvious that their journey had taken its toll on him. "I need to find something else for Beck."

I wish we could just go back to the city. Chantelle sighed. "You should eat too," she urged him. "Look at how skinny you are. Beck can wait."

Alder shook his head. "It's a leader's duty to look out for his band first. You and Beck are more important to me than anything else."

The black loner sighed, acting like his words meant nothing to her, while inside her heart was soaring. "Alright," she mewed. "If you're anything, Alder, you're a leader. We'll be waiting here."

He nodded and then hesitated. "You haven't...you haven't seen any sign of them, have you?"

"Not for a long time now," said Chantelle. "Do you think that they're still after us?"

Alder's expression grew stormy. "You know Baron. Do you think he'll ever really quit?"

No, she thought, but she merely shrugged. "You never know. He might get tired of chasing us one day."

"He won't," said Alder stiffly. He roses to his paws, suddenly tense. "And he's not chasing you, he's chasing me. You and Beck have saved my life many times over now, but you don't understand... He'll never give up. If I ever go back...I can overthrow him, and he knows that. We have to go so far away that he will never find us."

"There are still dissenters," Chantelle pointed out. "You said it yourself. You can overthrow him. No matter what Baron says or does, you're the rightful leader. Your father..."

"Leave my father out of this," said Alder angrily. All the warmth had fled from his voice, all laughter from his eyes. "We're not going back. You know that. I told you that when you volunteered to come. So just...don't." He turned around and padded away from their makeshift camp, neck fur bristling.

"Alder, wait!" she called, but it was too late. He vanished over the rise of the hill and Chantelle was left to curse herself. It wasn't supposed to be this way. They weren't going to run forever; they were going to make a new life, the three of them together. She had already pictured her kits, brown and black, so happy and handsome. And when Baron was dead and gone, perhaps they could reclaim their rightful kingdom. I won't forget, she vowed. No matter what happens, no matter what Alder says, I will not forget.

.

"Almost there!" called Beck from up ahead. He was marching at the front of their little procession, scouting ahead whenever the need arose. Alder walked in the middle, and Chantelle took up the rear, all of her senses alert. Danger could strike at any time, and Alder needed to be kept safe. She perked up when Beck yowled out. It seemed like they had been climbing this hill for ages, never quite reaching the top. But Beck seemed high up, and Chantelle allowed herself to hope that they would finally reach the rise.

The sun was higher in the sky now, though the air was just as cold as it had been in the morning. Snow crackled beneath her paws, and she found herself walking in Alder's steps. Earlier on in their journey, Beck's weight had broken the snow and he had fallen into what had very nearly been a deathtrap. Now they were extra careful – there was no telling just how deep the snow was on these hills. Chantelle shivered, and on every step, tested the crust before placing her weight on it.

Alder's mood had improved. He had somehow found food for both Beck and himself, and the two toms seemed more energetic than usual. The brown tabby's eyes were shining again, and Chantelle knew that they would stay that way as long as she refrained from mentioning Baron. The reddish-brown tom haunted her dreams, and she wondered just how bad Alder's nightmares got. Confide in me, she wanted to tell him. Tell me everything.

It was little under an hour until they reached the top of the hill. Beck stood triumphant at the crest, golden fur glowing in the sunlight. He was a handsome cat, with a muscular figure, but he had none of Alder's intelligence or humour. Chantelle liked him well enough, though she couldn't help the twinge of jealousy whenever she saw the two of them together. You're not his friend, she wanted to scream at Beck sometimes. You're supposed to be his guard.

But that was another life. This was their new one. If only they could distance themselves from what they had been before, then everything would be perfect. But as it was, she was scared to look around every corner, always expecting to see Baron's face peeking out at her. Going somewhere, he would ask, and his voice was a leer in her head.

"There," said Beck, gesturing with his muzzle. Below them lay a glittering lake, sunlight reflecting off of its frozen surface. One half was surrounded by dense forest, while the other carried into rolling hills and flat marshes. Chantelle thought she could make out a cluster of Twoleg nests in the distance. "That's where we'll find them."

"It looks small," she said doubtfully, casting an anxious glance at Alder. He was studying the forest, his eyes narrowed in concentration.

"That's because it's far away," mewed Beck. "This is definitely the place that the Tribe cats told us about."

Chantelle could still hear their leader's words ringing in her mind. We cannot shelter you in this time of the cold, nor can we risk bringing the wrath of these rogue cats upon us. But there are Clans of cats who live by the lake, through the mountains. They protect the weak. They will gladly help you. But he had been old and weary, and she had found herself annoyed by his cowardice. Alder, being a diplomat, had merely accepted his words.

Alder nodded. "We need their help. Let's start heading down. There's no time to waste. Beck, will you lead the way?"

The huge tom grunted and began to pick his way down the slope toward the forest. Alder followed him, and Chantelle scurried to keep up with her leader. Her prince. "What will we tell them?" she asked, panting.

"We'll tell them that we're loners, that we lost our home to Twolegs," mewed Alder sadly. "We'll say that you gave birth to a litter of stillborns, and that you're mourning their loss. We need food and shelter, just for a little while, perhaps a moon or two. Then we'll move on."

"So we'll lie," she said softly.

Alder shot her a sharp glance. "I don't like it any more than you do. But do you think that they'll accept us if they know that we're being hunted? We're supposed to be their friends, cats they can trust, but...there's no other way, Chantelle. We just have to hope that Baron doesn't find us."

She wanted to tell him to fight so desperately that it hurt. She had agreed to run away with him because of the bond they shared; the two had been friends since kithood. She was nineteen moons now, to his twenty. Beck was older than both of them, a fighter by birth. He had been Alder's guard when the tom had been heir, and now he was his guard in exile. The three of them were an odd company, but it was all she had.

Instead, Chantelle held her tongue. "You know I'll always agree with you," she told Alder. The tabby's expression softened and he blinked warmly.

"Thanks," he mewed, before trotting forward to head their descent.

They walked like that for awhile, though the lake never seemed to get any closer. It was farther than it looked – not just one more hill, but two, three, maybe even four. Soon Chantelle was panting again, her stomach beginning to rumble. The sun began to disappear beyond the horizon. Alder noticed and called their march to a halt.

As they looked for a place to sleep for the night, Beck dropped back to pad beside her. "It'll never work," he said, voice soft but firm. Beck had never been one to mince words. Chantelle had always been intimidated by him, though he had always been her protector. She had spent so much time with Alder growing up that Beck had guarded her as well, always silent. Now he spoke to her, and Chantelle found herself still getting used to the equality forming between them.

"What won't work?" she asked. "Seeking shelter with the Clans?"

The golden tom shook his massive head. "You and Alder," he said in a low voice. "I know how you feel about him. What you want."

"I don't know what you mean," said Chantelle, but she did, and she went to sleep trying to forget his words.

X X X X X X X

A/N: So, first chapter of KotS! It showcases the beginning of two very important storylines throughout the fic - that of WindClan, and that of the rogues. The next chapter will return to Sootclaw, and we'll catch up with them. After that, we'll have our very first Thickfur POV!

That being said, this chapter introduces our two new female POVS: Fogpaw and Chantelle! I'm very happy with the way both of them are turning out. They're definitely very different, and hopefully a good contrast to Dawnpaw, and we'll see them develop as the story continues.

allygirl56: It's great that you're able to keep up with the story! I laughed at your reaction to Lilystream's pregnancy :)

ScourgexScarlet: Haha, just keep holding onto that faith then.

The Last Clan: Gasp, a positive reaction to Lilystream! :) Thanks for your review!

Juniperleaf of BlazeClan: Willowstar isn't so much a moron as she is brainwashed. The darkness has pretty much taken over her, so yeah, I would say feel sorry for her.

Blackish: I can PM you! I feel so powerful! This is the most convenient thing ever. That being said, I look forward to your comments on Fogpaw and Chantelle.

bubbletail: Awesome, haha, thanks for your review!

frostfeather: You'll see what has happened soon enough :) As for that mystery cat, don't worry, it's not something you know at the moment.

Kartlin: Two days? That's impressive, wow! Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, and I hope KotS keeps you just as addicted :)

It seems like Lilystream's pregnancy is causing quite a stir... Next chapter, all your questions will be answered. Well, one of your questions will be, at least. Ahem. I don't have much to say about this chapter, and I don't want to give a lot away, so see you all next time.

Thanks for reading and please review!

- PV :)