The forest was quiet, not a sound to be heard as a cat stalked through the trees. The lonesome black she-cat kept her tail still, despite knowing that there was no prey here. There was nothing here but the dark trees and starless sky. The cat didn't mind that all too much. She had died alone, so she would walk alone. It had been that way for moons now. She knew that she had done wrong. But she did what had to be done. If only she had been able to get her revenge on that medicine cat and their Clan. But she had failed and now would have no way to avenge herself.

She leaned down as soon as she found the river, the murky water disgusting her. She never liked water in the first place, but hated it even more after she had drowned. She remembered chasing her prey, getting tricked into jumping into the gorge to her death. Her claws unsheathed as she recalled how they cheered while she thrashed against the waves, her lungs full of water.

She looked into the water as an image emerged from it. She often used this surface to observe the Clans, waiting for the perfect cat to help her. She knew that StarClan could enter cats' dream, so she shouldn't be any different. It couldn't just be any cat. They had to have the perfect amount of hate for their Clanmates. She had no business with ThunderClan or RiverClan, so she didn't bother checking them. She tilted her head at WindClan's camp, the feeling of agony through the air with a tinge of hate. There was also regret. She glanced around looking for the source of the cries of pain, noticing cats glancing at the nursery with anxiety. A queen was giving birth! What should be a moment of love seemed filled with anger. She smirked with interest.

WindClan's warriors were scattered around the camp, tense as Silverfang's moans of pain echoed from the nursery. Her kits weren't due for another moon, keeping every cat alert. It wasn't always a bad thing, but there's no guarantee that everything was alright. But Silverfang was a strong queen. Every cat knew that she had a sharp tongue, which worsened when her mate left the Clan to become a rouge, leaving her a single mother. Raising kits wasn't easy.

Inside the nursery, Silverfang clawed at the ground, her tail twitching as her body adjusted to let her kits out. She had expected it to hurt, but not this badly. The silver queen was being stroked by Marshleaf's tail. The black she-cat offered her a stick to bite down on, remember what her mentor had taught her. This was the first queen that she had to deliver by herself.

"Bite down on this, Silverfang. I can see the kit now."

"Than get the dumb kit out!" the queen hissed, almost lashing out at the medicine cat. "I want this over with!"

"You're doing fine," Marshleaf ignored the queen's harsh words. She knew that Silverfang was only mad at the kits because of their father. He never wanted kits with his mate and left as soon as she admitted to being pregnant. The black cat had hated him anyways. He was rude and not a very good mate. He would have been a terrible father to his kits. "Almost out."

Silverfang shivered as a small white kit slid down, Marshleaf bending down to nip the sack open and began to lick the tiny kit, while the kit's mother laid her head down, no longer in pain.

"That's it," Marshleaf lightly pushed the white kit towards Silverfang, letting out a tiny cry as they went for milk. While she went for milk. "You have a daughter."

"Why should I care?" She glared down at the white bundle. "Can't Blossomtail take this one as well?"

"You're her mother."

"I never wanted to have kits. If it wasn't for this dumb kit, Smoketail wouldn't have become a rouge. This kit ruined my life. Why should I care for hers?"

"She's just a kit," Marshleaf scolded her. "She at least deserves a name."

"Icekit," Silverfang lashed her tail, feeling like her heart was frozen. It had been ever since he left the Clan. He took her kindness and compassion with him. This bundle was a mistake.

Marshleaf was going to respond when she felt herself stiffen. She was no longer in the nursery, but in camp. But there was no fresh-kill pile. The bodies on the ground were her Clanmates. Each corpse was bloodied, as if they were picked off one by one. In the center of the fray was a huge she-cat, her pure white pelt coated with blood, her legs darkened from her crimes. She turned to Marshleaf with a crazy look in her blue eyes, fresh blood dripping down her chin. Her claws held fur of different colors. Her long tail lashed.

"They had to die," the white cat's voice was cracked as she chuckled in complete joy. "They all had to die. They got what they deserved! Now it's your turn."

Marshleaf flinched as she was suddenly flung back into camp. She gazed down at the small white kit at her mother's side in horror. Was that bloody she-cat what this small cat would become, a gruesome killer? She backed up, her paw raising as chills ran down her spine. She said in a dark voice.

"This kit will bring death to WindClan. A great massacre will occur. We'll be picked off as mice."

She raced out of the nursery, heading to Dovestar's den to warn her. Was that really WindClan's fate if the kit gets power? She had to spread word to the camp. They couldn't let Icekit grow. They would let her grow in the nursery, but once she's halfway through apprenticeship, she would either be killed or exiled. It was harsh, but WindClan would have to make sacrifices to survive.

The black she-cat watched the WindClan cats beginning to panic with amusement in her sharp yellow gaze. She shook her head at them, so easily frightened. By a small newborn kit no less! She could see how much the tiny kit would suffer and how much she'd be put down. All that anger would build up until she let it all out. She could use that to her advantage. The dark forest cat would watch over the young Icekit, teaching her how to be a strong and powerful cat. She let out a purr as she turned away from the lake, her mind fresh with ideas.