Chirpkit knew she was in trouble. Not the kind of trouble she would get into when she was bothering Dovestar and Applefall would scold her. It was the kind of trouble that made a cat’s blood run cold and their hearts freeze in terror, the kind that they felt before something bad happened.
In her case, Chirpkit was stranded in a seemingly endless world of white. Snow whirled around her in the shrieking wind like demented phantoms, ripping and tearing at her fur with icy claws.
Applefall, I’m sorry. Chirpkit said silently. It was all she could do to stay upright – the ice and snow made it impossible for her to dig her claws into the ground and the wind was close to blowing her away. Her back burned agonizingly with each step she took, the dried blood cracking every time she moved too much.
All Chirpkit had wanted was to see the ocean. Dovestar and Applefall were always telling her that she was too small or that she needed training but Chirpkit knew that she was strong enough. The warriors were just fussy. They clearly didn’t care, since she was able to sneak out so easily. Besides, Dovestar was obsessed with her kits at the moment and Applefall acted like she no longer existed so she could tend to the leader’s litter.
I’ll show them, Chirpkit had thought defiantly. I’ll catch a whole whale and then they’ll make me into a warrior immediately! The thought that Applefall might step down as deputy to let her have a shot – it’s not like she does anything anyway – make Chirpkit cheery.
Cheery and careless.
The snowy owl had descended without a sound and scooped Chirpkit up before she even saw the waves. She didn’t even have time to squeak – one moment she had all four paws on the ground and then there was a piercing pain in her back and she was airborne. By the time she realized what was going on, the kit was so far up that it made her sick to even look down.
The sandy beach sped by and disappeared into a thick forest, then it became cold. Soon, Chirpkit’s teeth were chattering and she felt as if the freezing wind was sucking the very life from her body. Still, the owl flew on, seemingly tireless.
Chirpkit was shaking so badly she didn’t realize the owl was landing. This is it. She thought dazedly. I’m gonna die here. The owl is gonna kill me now. There was a lurch and then thunk and Chirpkit hit the ground and rolled, landing hard on her side.
Blood painted the snow, hissing and steaming, in an almost artful way. Distantly, Chirpkit realized it was her blood. The wounds on her back where the owl had grabbed her were bleeding freely now without the talons to keep the blood stymied.
Curling in on herself, Chirpkit gritted her teeth and waited for the owl to send her to StarClan.
The blow never came.
Though she’d expected a sharp stab of the beak or ripping claws, what Chirpkit felt was someone gripping her scruff and hauling her to her paws.
“Stand up,” a gruff voice demanded, “or you’re going to die. If you freeze in the snow, your soul is gonna get stuck.”
Chirpkit’s eyes flew open and she gaped at the cats in front of her. There were three – each with thick, shaggy fur – and they were all easily larger than even Squidstripe, who was the biggest cat in FoamClan.
“Well?” The cat standing beside Chirpkit was a thickly muscled she-cat with black and orange fur. Her bottom fang stuck out over her lip like it was trying to escape, creating a menacing appearance. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s just a kit,” one of the toms said quietly. “Frostburn, we should let it go.”
Chirpkit’s fur prickled instantly at the gray tabby’s condescending tone. “Just a kit? I’m almost a warrior!” It wasn’t that much of a lie. She just needed to get her whale and go back home.
“A warrior, eh?” The she-cat, Frostburn, stared down at Chirpkit with such an air of indifference that it made her fur prickle. Most she-cats looked at Chirpkit and gushed about how adorable and perfect she was, but this one… it was as if Chirpkit was nothing but an annoying gnat.
“A w-warrior.” Chirpkit hated how her voice trembled. “Of FoamClan. You better let me go or Dovestar and everyone else is going to come and get me! You’ll be sorry then!”
To Chirpkit’s horror, the two toms took one look at each other and burst into laughter. Even Frostburn looked amused. “Oh, we’ll be sorry, eh? Look around. Do you think you can find your way out of here? The smell of the sea clings to you. Makes me sick. You must be from those southern groups, right? Never seen snow in your life.”
“Frostburn,” the other tom, this one ginger and white, spoke up now. “We should take her to Bee. He’ll know what to do with her.”
The way the tom said Bee made Chirpkit’s stomach turn. Where have I heard that name?
“Of course,” Frostburn grunted. “Come on, warrior, start moving.” The she-cat turned and strode away, her powerful legs effortlessly cutting a path through the deep snowdrifts.
Chirpkit stared. “I… I have to walk on my own?”
The gray tom looked at Chirpkit with such a look of sheer amusement that it made her unsheathe her claws. “You’re a warrior, aren’t ye? Then get to walking like a warrior.” Then he turned and followed after Frostburn.
Chirpkit helplessly looked at the ginger tom, but he just shrugged and followed. They’re not even checking to see if I’m behind them! She thought indignantly. I could launch an attack from the back and take them down! But they were right about her not knowing the way out of the snow. So… I’ll let them live for now. The kit sniffed.
The journey was long and painful. Blood dripped and congealed around her shoulders and neck, making her fur sticky and wet. The ceaseless wind didn’t help in the slightest, making Chirpkit shiver violently while cutting into the wounds at the same time.
After what seemed like moons of walking, the group came over a hill and Chirpkit gasped. Strange angular stones jutted up from the landscape like hungry teeth and created odd-looking mountains.
“Stop gawping,” Frostburn grunted. “Ain’t you ever seen a two-leg camp before? Your Clan must have some sucky teaching.”
Chirpkit’s fur began to burn with embarrassment. “Two-legs are long gone. It’s not like the camps are important or anything. Why should we have to learn about them.”
“Let’s just keep moving. It’s too cold to be out here.” The ginger tom moved forward. He seemed to be the most level-headed and soft-spoken of the group.
Chirpkit gritted her teeth and followed after the cats, stubbornly refusing to ask to be carried. Frostburn, huh? Must be a warrior. I’ll call the gray one Uglywhisker and the ginger one Ratface. The thought soothed her ruffled pride.
The strange two-leg camp was absolutely massive. Bigger than three trees stacked on top of each other and wider than four FoamClan camps. As soon as they entered, the wind was cut off immediately. Though more stone blocked out the sunlight from above, strange-looking ice blocked small holes in the walls of the den and allowed in sunlight.
Thick nests lined with feathers and moss made a circle around what appeared to be captured sunlight. It crackled and hissed, letting off an acrid smell.
“Never seen fire, eh?” The gray tom nudged Chirpkit from behind.
Chirpkit gave the tabby a short glare. “No! Of course not.” So that’s fire. She held back a shudder. Fire was the most dangerous thing in the entire island, and these cats captured it in a strange circle and even slept around it.
“What’s this?” A voice of liquid charm called out from above.
Chirpkit craned her neck up and gasped. High above was odd-looking trees that grew in symmetrical shapes to create a barrier from a ledge. Perched on the barkless trees was possibly the largest cat she’d ever seen.
Unlike the others, this tom had dark brown fur. It was thick and fell around him like a lion’s mane. His eyes were pale green and full of a dark sort of power, one that threatened anything that crossed his ire.
He must have the blood of lions. Chirpkit felt her heart seize but stood up. “Your cats-”
“We found this kit in the snow.” The gray tom cut in. “She claims to be a warrior.”
“Comes from the seaside,” Frostburn added. “Said FoamClan or something.”
“Hoarfrost, can’t you see she’s bleeding? Get some moss and herbs.” The brown tom lept down, his bulk belying the unusual grace of his movements.
“Of course,” the gray tom – Hoarfrost? What a silly name – dipped his head and disappeared around one of the stone walls.
“Haunt, please fetch FoamClan. I’m sure they’re worried about their kit.” The tom stared down at Chirpkit as he spoke, making her freeze in place.
Something was dangerous about this stranger, something that lurked in his eyes.
“I’m Chirp… Chirpkit.” Chirpkit almost lied and made up a warrior name, but got the distinct impression it was a very very bad idea.
Frostburn snorted softly but said nothing.
“I’m Bee. You have good manners considering you’re from the southern tribes.”
“Clans,” Chirpkit corrected immediately, not sure if she should be insulted or not.
“My bad, of course. You should rest. It’ll take at least a day for your Haunt to travel there and back, so I’m afraid you’re stuck here with us.” Bee’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “We’ll put you to work a bit.”
“Work?” Chirpkit was stunned. “But-”
“You’re going to be eating our food and using our herbs.” Bee purred, his voice deep and convincing. “Isn’t it fair? You’re a warrior after all, and warriors don’t live soft lives.”
Chirpkit stared at Bee, realizing he was making fun of her. She bit back the urge to yell at him – and the urge was big – and dipped her head. “A-alright.”
Bee seemed pleased. “Good. Hoarfrost will tend to your wounds and then you can get to work fixing up some of the dens. Haunt cleared out most of the rats and sharp ice, so you should be safe.”
Then, with one majestic sweep of his tail, Bee turned and prowled off into the darkness of the strange stone camp.
Hoarfrost returned not long after, holding a bundle of surprisingly fresh herbs. He chewed them in silence while cleaning the blood from Chirpkit’s back with lichen and snow. When he put the herbs on, Chirpkit had to grit her teeth to prevent a hiss of pain that bubbled at her throat. As if reading her mind, the gray tom sniggered but stayed mercifully silent.
When Chirpkit’s back was sufficiently wrapped in cobweb and poultice, Hoarfrost nudged her harshly towards a den with what looked like moose antlers hanging from the entrance. “Go there. Aurora will tell you what to do.”
Chirpkit gave Hoarfrost a dirty look but scurried over anyway. I’m not scared. Just annoyed. Just you wait, Hoarfrost. My Clan will be back and beat you all up!
The den was significantly colder than the larger one Chirpkit came from. She hadn’t realized how much of a difference the fire made in heat and light levels, but now she was almost regretting leaving the main den. This one was absolutely trashed – broken shards of stone, ice, and strange leaves that smelled acrid but woody at the same time were thrown haphazardly everywhere. Long, shiny sticks with strange engravings littered the room and Chirpkit saw, repressing a shudder, that some of the shiny sticks were stained with blood.
A scuff-scuff noise made Chirpkit’s heart leap to her throat, but after a moment a kit poked her head from underneath a pile of the strange leaves. “Hello!” The stranger said cheerfully. “Are you here to help me today?”
“I- yes?” Chirpkit looked dubiously at the she-kit. Like the other cats in this strange place, the kit was thick-set and had a heavy coat of fur. However, her demeanor was cheerful and lively, nothing like the surly and mean cats from earlier. “Are you Aurora?”
“Yes, I am!” The kit laughed. “Now, hurry over here. I have some sharp ice over here. No, no, wait. You have to use the flat-leaves to move it.” Aurora moved one of the strange leaves over and pointed out a pile of broken ice. “That’s sharp ice. It’s dangerous, especially if you swallow it, so be careful not to get it in your fur.”
Chirpkit stared at Aurora, debating telling the younger kit to buzz off, but decided against it. Hoarfrost and Bee are just outside. I can’t take both of them and a kit. I’ll just play along for now.
Feeling better, Chirpkit gingerly bit the flat-leaf and recoiled at the taste. “Ew!” She spat it out quickly, gagging. “What-”
“Frostburn says it’s ink, like from squids.” Aurora giggled. “It tastes bad, but you get used to it. Don’t worry!”
I don’t want to get used to it! Chirpkit thought, shaking her head. Taking a breath to prepare herself, she bit the flat-leaf again and tried moving the piles of sharp ice away to a crumbling bit of den.
“We’ll hide the sharp ice under some stones, then patch the wall up with nettle and heather,” Aurora explained.
“We just make dens out of reeds,” Chirpkit grumbled. “I don’t see why you can’t too. Isn’t it weird, living in a two-leg camp?”
“Nope,” Aurora said without a hint of hesitation. “I’ve lived here ever since my mother abandoned me. Haunt and Bee found me and took me in. I like it here.”
Chirpkit stared at the strange she-kit for a long moment before shaking her head. She must have bees in her brain. It would be so much better to live in a Clan!
The time flew by in silence as Chirpkit helped Aurora clean up the room. It was hard, grueling work and more than once the she-kit got a piece of sharp ice stuck in her paw. To her horror, Hoarfrost had to come in and help her remove it every time. He had an amused look on his muzzle the entire time.
Once, Frostburn returned with the leg of a fat rabbit and left it for Aurora and Chirpkit. It tasted thick and woody, nothing like the fish from the coast. Chirpkit choked it down anyway. What I wouldn’t do for some crab. She thought miserably.
Deep into the night, a strange black and white tom appeared to tell them they could sleep. Chirpkit was achy and mad. It took them long enough! She growled silently. Did they want us to fall over in exhaustion?
In truth, only Chirpkit seemed tired. Frostburn and the black and white tom – Arctic – were discussing how they chased the rabbit they’d eaten down earlier, using a complicated method to hunt and kill it. Hoarfrost was staring deep into the fire, his eyes alight with an emotion caught somewhere between melancholy and euphoria.
Of course, Aurora was a ceaseless wave of chatter about everything. She talked about how she caught a bird once, her voice earnest and full of surprise; how many dens there were (twenty-two, though Chirpkit couldn’t really count that high); how Arctic was grumpy but still had the best stories.
Chirpkit had her fill of Aurora’s nonstop talk and instantly curled up in the nest Frostburn pointed out to her. She put her paws over her ears and closed her eyes tightly, hoping that everything was just some strange dream.
It was not.
Chirpkit woke up cold and bruised, her back being groomed. At first, she thought she had been dreaming, but when she sat up, pain exploded across her back. The kit fell down into her nest again, dazed, as Hoarfrost’s distinctive laugh came from behind her.
“I’m in the middle of dressing your wounds. You need to be more careful or something bad is going to happen.” Hoarfrost’s voice was light and cheerful, but the words carried a threat.
Chirpkit swallowed thickly. “What am I supposed to do today?”
“I’m glad you asked! Bee said you’ll continue to help Aurora finish out that den until Haunt comes back with your Clanmates. We’re going to turn it into a nursery for when Frostburn has her kits.”
Chirpkit glanced over to where the ginger she-cat was grooming herself and winced. I wouldn’t want her as my mother. Those poor kits.
“Don’t slack off now. You’re going to work as hard as you can.” Hoarfrost’s whiskers twitched across Chirpkit’s back. “And if you do, maybe you’ll get to have some lunch.”
True to his word, as soon as Chirpkit’s wounds were redressed, Hoarfrost sent her and Aurora back to the soon-to-be nursery. They worked in silence – even Aurora’s bubbliness was dampened by the frigid morning air – and was soon almost done.
“Knock knock,” Hoarfrost’s voice called out. It was really starting to grate on Chirpkit’s nerves. “I brought some food for you two.”
Aurora scampered over immediately, her babbling back as she devoured a vole in quick, hungry bites. Chirpkit approached slower, feeling as if the tom was hiding a trick. He slid a fat mouse-like creature over to her, his eyes burning with laughter. “It’s a lemming,” the tabby said. “You’ll like it.”
Chirpkit doubted it, but took a few bites anyway. As soon as she took one mouthful, the warm blood awoke her hunger. The she-kit tore into the lemming, ignoring the fur that stuck to the back of her throat. It wasn’t anywhere as good as fish, but she was starving.
Hoarfrost laughed and disappeared again.
Chirpkit glared after the tom. I’ll swipe that laugh right off your face one day. With Aurora’s chatter reawakened, the two she-kits began working in earnest again. It wasn’t until the sun was high in the sky that they were stopped.
This time, however, Haunt was the one who poked his head in. “Your Clan is here.” He said flatly.
Chirpkit’s heart swelled and she raced out of the den. Waiting in front of the fire was Applefall and Squidstripe. The two cats were bristling while glaring at Bee, who watched with obvious mirth, but as soon as Chirpkit appeared they raced over.
“Are you hurt?” Applefall demanded, sniffing at the poultice. She gave Bee a furious look. “Haunt said you wouldn’t hurt her!”
“We didn’t.” Bee’s voice was unhurried. “Hoarfrost went to the trouble of snatching her from the talons of an owl. You really should be thanking him.”
Applefall was bristling still, her fangs bared defiantly. Chripkit realized, with mounting terror, that her foster mother was afraid of Bee!
What kind of monster is he? Chirpkit shuddered. FoamClan cats weren’t scared of anything.
Bee laughed and stood, causing Squidstripe to lunge in front of Applefall protectively. “Relax,” the leader purred. “Haunt and Frostburn will escort you to the border.” His burning eyes fell on Chirpkit, making her heart skip a beat. “Take care not to find your way back to the tundra, little one. I’m afraid Hoarfrost is quite fond of you. It would be hard to let you go a second time.”
Applefall snarled and picked Chirpkit up by the scruff. The kit felt as if her heart was freezing over with fear and couldn’t even muster the strength to yell at Applefall for messing up the poultice on her wounds. She just stared at Bee as they left the stone den.
Pure malice stared back.