A Little Kit’s Courage

“Then stop throwing moss at my paws.”

Despite the wind, Skystream gave a breathy laugh. Frostkit felt the vibration beneath her cheek. She wriggled toward it, paws kneading until she found Skystream’s fur again.

“There,” Skystream murmured. “Stubborn already.”

Scorchclaw lowered his head. His whiskers brushed Frostkit’s nose. She opened her mouth and let out a thin, furious squeal.

“She has a strong voice,” he said.

“She has a strong opinion.”

“That too.”

Frostkit pushed toward the warmth of his muzzle. His fur smelled of pine needles, frost, and the familiar scent of home. His tongue brushed the top of her head once, clumsy and careful.

“My little Frostkit,” he whispered. “Born in the worst storm this season.”

“She’ll be safe,” Skystream said.

“Safe, yes. But not hidden away forever.” Scorchclaw’s voice softened. “One day, she’ll be the bravest warrior in the Clan.”

Skystream flicked her ear. “She can decide what she wants to be.”

“Then she’ll be the bravest whatever-she-wants-to-be.”

Frostkit pressed her nose into his paw. The paw was large enough to cover her whole body. She held on when he began to pull away.

Scorchclaw paused. “Already trying to stop me?”

Frostkit gripped his fur with both paws.

Skystream purred. “Quiet stubbornness. That’s yours.”

“No,” Scorchclaw said. “That came from you.”

The storm raged until the darkness thinned. Frostkit slept in pieces, waking whenever the nursery shuddered. Each time, Skystream was there. Each time, Scorchclaw’s voice drifted from somewhere nearby as he checked the walls, spoke with the warriors, or returned with fresh moss.

By morning, the snow had buried the camp entrance nearly to the top.

Frostkit’s eyes opened for the first time beneath the pale light. The world was blurred shapes and shifting shadows. Skystream’s face hovered above her, gray-blue eyes bright with tiredness.

“Look at you,” her mother breathed. “Frost-blue eyes.”

Frostkit blinked. The light stung, but she refused to close her eyes.

Scorchclaw leaned over Skystream’s shoulder. “She’s staring me down.”

“She’s staring at nothing.”

“She knows exactly what she’s doing.”

Frostkit fixed her gaze on the dark shape of him and squeaked.

“There,” Scorchclaw said proudly. “She agrees.”

A rustle came from the other side of the nursery. Frostkit turned toward it. A small russet-colored kit tumbled out of a nest, landed on his side, and sprang up as if nothing had happened.

He stared at Frostkit.

Frostkit stared back.

“Is that your kit?” he asked.

Skystream’s whiskers twitched. “No. I found her under a snowdrift.”

The russet kit crept closer. “I’m Foxkit.”

Frostkit reached for him. Her paws slipped on the moss, and she toppled forward with a squeak.

Foxkit jumped back. “You nearly attacked me.”

“She’s still learning to walk,” Skystream said.

Foxkit considered Frostkit. “She should learn faster.”

Frostkit shoved herself upright. Her legs wobbled. She took one step, then another, and bumped her forehead against Foxkit’s chest.

Foxkit staggered backward.

Frostkit sat down hard.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then Foxkit began to purr.

“You’re funny,” he declared.

Frostkit chirped.

Foxkit glanced toward the nursery entrance, where a thin blade of white light showed through the snow. “Come on. We’re on patrol.”

Frostkit looked at Skystream.

Her mother’s expression sharpened. “Stay where I can see you.”

Foxkit lowered his voice. “We’ll patrol right here.”

He crept toward the far wall, tail held high. Frostkit followed, her paws sinking into the soft moss. Foxkit inspected a bundle of dried grass.

“Border marker,” he announced.

Frostkit sniffed it. It smelled like dust.

“Suspicious,” Foxkit said.

Frostkit batted the bundle. It rolled across the nursery.

Foxkit pounced. “Intruder!”

Frostkit leaped after him. They chased the grass from one nest to another, crashing into moss and scattering feathers. Their game grew louder until Skystream caught Frostkit gently by the scruff and lifted her from the middle of the battle.

“That’s enough, little storm cloud.”

Foxkit skidded to a halt. “The intruder escaped.”

“It can escape,” Skystream said. “You two need sleep.”

Frostkit wriggled until Skystream set her down. Foxkit came close and touched noses with her.

“Tomorrow we patrol again,” he whispered.

Frostkit answered with a determined squeak.

For several days, the storm kept the Clan close. Snow blocked the entrance, and the nursery walls smelled of wet earth. Frostkit learned to walk, then run. Foxkit was always beside her, tripping over his own paws or pretending to be a warrior guarding the nest.

Scorchclaw visited whenever he could. He brought them feathers, dry leaves, and once a long white whisker that Frostkit carried proudly until Foxkit stole it.

“You’ll be a warrior before me,” Scorchclaw told Frostkit one evening.

Foxkit puffed out his chest. “I’ll be a warrior first.”

“Then you’ll have to stop falling into the water bowl,” Frostkit said.

Foxkit’s ears went flat. “That happened once.”

“Twice,” Scorchclaw said.

Frostkit laughed, though she did not yet know the sound belonged to her.

The first clear morning came with hard blue sky and snow sparkling beyond the camp. Scorchclaw stood near the entrance, speaking with Hollowshade and Emberfur. Their voices were low, but Frostkit heard the unease in them.

“Another mark near the eastern border,” Emberfur said.

“Rogue?” Hollowshade asked.

“Fresh,” Scorchclaw replied. “And not alone.”

Frostkit crept closer. Skystream caught the back of her neck before she reached the entrance.

“No.”

Frostkit twisted around and protested.

“It’s too cold,” Skystream said. “And you’re not going near the border.”

Foxkit appeared beside Frostkit. “We can stay behind Scorchclaw.”

“No.”

“But we’re on patrol,” Foxkit objected.

“You’re kits.”

Frostkit dug her claws into the snow-packed ground. She wanted to see what had made the warriors speak so quietly. She wanted to follow her father and prove she could keep up. Skystream’s grip held firm.

Scorchclaw glanced back. “Let them watch from the camp entrance. I’ll be in sight.”

Skystream hesitated.

Frostkit pressed against her foreleg and stared at the open camp. The snow beyond it glittered like a challenge.

At last, Skystream released her. “Only the entrance.”

Frostkit darted forward with Foxkit beside her.

The cold struck at once. It crept between her toes and numbed her nose. Scorchclaw led the warriors through the narrow gap in the snow wall, his dark shoulders moving against the white.

Frostkit watched until he reached the edge of camp.

Then he stopped.

His head lifted. The wind tugged at his fur. He turned toward the trees, where the snow lay smooth and untouched.

Frostkit sniffed.

Beneath the clean scent of snow was something sour and sharp. Not fox. Not badger. A strange cat scent, stale in places and fresh in others. It clung to a low branch beside the entrance.

Foxkit sniffed too. His whiskers quivered.

“Is that a mouse?” he whispered.

Frostkit shook her head.

Scorchclaw came back at once. He bent over the branch, his expression changing as he scented it.

“Back to the nursery,” he ordered.

“But - ” Frostkit began.

“Now, Frostkit.”

His voice was not angry. That made her obey.

She took one step, then looked over her shoulder. Scorchclaw was staring beyond the camp, toward the distant line of trees. Another scent drifted on the wind, tangled with the first. It was faintly familiar, like a Clan cat she had seen but did not know.

Scorchclaw’s tail lashed once.

“I’m going to check the border,” he told Skystream.

Her fur rose. “Not alone.”

“Hollowshade and Emberfur are with me.”

Skystream moved between him and the entrance. “Come back quickly.”

“I will.”

Scorchclaw touched his nose to hers, then bent to Frostkit. His eyes were bright against the snow.

“Be brave, little Frostkit.”

She lifted her chin, though her paws were cold.

Foxkit pressed against her side. “We’ll guard the nursery.”

Scorchclaw smiled. “I know you will.”

He followed the warriors into the white forest. Frostkit watched until his dark shape vanished among the trees.

Beside her, Foxkit whispered, “Do you think there are rogues out there?”

Frostkit stared at the place where her father had disappeared. The strange scent still clung to the wind.

She tucked her paws beneath her chest and leaned closer to Foxkit.

“Yes,” she said. “And we’ll find out why they’re here.”

End of chapter one. 4 more chapters in the full book.