Introduction to the Snow [closed]

"Shhh, shhh, C'mon, Swanpaw, let's go!"

The sun was just beginning to set over Riverclan's land, casting long, dark shadows across the riverbeds and unevenly reflecting off of the river's ever-moving surface. Two figures dashed across the wetlands, snaking in and out of patches of reeds. Hushed exclamations broke the night's peace, the thrill of their expedition threatening to give them away. They kept moving, sheltering in the cover of the evening's expanding shadows until Riverclan's camp was no longer in site. The further they strayed, the weaker the scent of Riverclan became.

The cat in the front suddenly came to a halt. "Swanpaw! I think we're far enough away now, we don't have to whisper." Morningpaw raised his voice, turning to his sister before beginning to walk again, this time alongside her. "Oh, this'll be so cool, you don't even know! I saw this place before and it has huuuuge creatures, but they don't even care about chasing you! They just look at ya all funny and mind their business. And they smell funny!" The apprentice giggled to himself. "Are you excited? When you see it, you'll be all like 'wow Morningpaw, look at your cool discoveries, i'm so glad you convinced me to get close to the farm!'" He mocked, playfully nudging his sister.

The structure came into view, etching sharp edges into the sky just above the treeline. "Oh, d'ya see it? Right there." He raised his paw, gesturing to the barn's roof. "That's it, right there. We're close!" The tom quickened his pace. "[color:a1f4=##F1BD91]You can smell it from here! It smells funky, right?" He meowed over his shoulder before ducking into a bush. Morningpaw knew that twolegs sometimes lurked here, but they were rarely ever out after dark. It was good to be safe, though. After confirming that the only smells in the air were that of animals, he dashed from the bush, crouching in a patch of grass beside a tall post.

"Are ya excited? You'd never be able to get this close if a warrior was with us." He murmured under his breath, peering above the board of wood. "Look at em'. They're weird, aren't they." Tall animals that bellowed unlike any other lurked on the other side of the wooden boards, their fur was big and white. Morningpaw had touched it once, it was very soft.

While he was crouched, however, another scent reached his nose. It wasn't one he recognized from one of his pervious expeditions to this farm. Trying to hide his unease, he looked around, trying to seem casual. The night was beginning to set in, the two apprentices were surrounded by shadow. Keeping his ears erect, he turned back to the animals, moving ever so slightly closer to Swanpaw.

A pale figure darted after the Riverclanner, trying desperately to keep quiet. Her excitement showed in the bounce of her step, in her bright eyes as she stuck close to Morningpaw. The two darted through the shadows, making their way through wetlands and away from camp.

They'd be in trouble if anyone found them... But for now, nobody did.They were far from camp now, and Swanpaw turned to Morningpaw with a grin. "We actually make it out!" She breathed out, excitement in her still-hushed voice. Just in case.

"Convince me? Brother, there was no convincing necessary." Swanpaw scoffed at him, "I was coming along whether you wanted me to or not. Don't be delusional." She snickered.

"I've seen it from a distance, Poppyshine didn't seem that interested in letting me get close. Sometimes the warriors really aren't fun." She murmured. They had been on a tour of the territory that day, and there had been more important things to show Swanpaw, like the better places to hunt. "It smells. I wouldn't use funny though... More like gross." She added, "They're called something... I don't remember what. I'll probably remember by the time we're back in camp, with my luck." Her whiskers twitched. The large creatures were strange, though Swanpaw had yet to get close to one of them. If Morningpaw said they were so docile though, she'd believe it. The apprentice stuck close to her sibling as he dashed to the fence, coming to a crouched stop beside him. "I bet their stink is enough to drive off predators, they probably don't even need to fight. They're so huge I bet most things are scared of going near them anyways. Well, aside from the twolegs, but the twolegs are weird." Most things, but not her, she told herself. Their fur was white and puffy, almost. She gazed at them through the slats in the wooden fence, curiosity shining in her blue eyes. She had never been this close to them... They truly were odd creatures, and it was more apparent now that she wasn't watching from a safe distance. Their puffy while pelts stood out against the deepening shadows, just like Swanpaw's pelt did.

"...Their fur looks soft to the touch, don't you think?" There was another odd scent in the air, unfamiliar, but Swanpaw thought little of it. There were always strange scents around this area, anyways.

He had been born and raised as a barn cat, but since the death of Mr. Worm, this area was not a place the tom frequented very often anymore - if ever. It was the same thing here every day: keep the barn free of pests that either ate the livestock feed or came to harm the chickens. While his late father had enjoyed the mundane, Grub did not. The humans still left food out for him whether or not he did the job they asked of him. Some other cat would replace him one day - it was only a matter of time.

As the masked rogue lounged across the stiff hay that was waiting to be rolled and stored away for the upcoming winter, movement caught his gaze as two little figures darted across the field, their scents the last to reach him as they took cover near the barn that currently housed a few cows and a couple of sheep. A grin began to creep across his face as he slithered off his makeshift bed and into the grass below. He knew this scent: forest cat. Ones from the river.

Curiosity had him by its claws as he crept forward, pausing everytime they spoke and continuing the second they stopped. Their attention seemed to be split unevenly as they shuffled closer together, obviously aware there was someone approaching them, but too caught up in what a sheep was to turn around. "Curious, are we?" They were just kids, by the looks of it. Kids in a place they didn't belong. He did wonder briefly where their parents were, but who was he to stomp out the curious nature of kids?

"Oh, yeah, I've caught a tuft of their fur before. We should make our nests out of their fur instead of moss." He chuckled, resting his chin on the top of the wooden plank. "Do you think it would be a bad idea to try? They don't really care about us being here." He wondered out loud, hoping that Swanpaw would provide insight.

Having returned his attention to the sheep in front of them, however, caused Morningpaw to be caught off guard when a voice came from behind them. Whipping his head around, a large, dark shadow stood before them. Fear ran through the apprentice. At first, he thought that they had been caught by a warrior. But the smell coming from this cat wasn't of Riverclan. It wasn't of any clan at all. It was the smell that he had picked up before, that he had assumed to be of the barn animals.

Intimidated by the rogue, he was, but he wouldn't let the fear bubble to his surface. He quickly shot back a response. "Yeah, Curious as to who you are, rogue." Morningpaw raised his hackles. "This is Riverclan territory, what are you doing here?" The tom's yellow eyes narrwed as he stepped forward to place himself between the rogue and Swanpaw.

"Ooo, that does sound nice, actually. Those paws look like they could do some damage, though. But maybe we could be sneaky about it?" Moss wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world to sleep on, in Swanpaw's opinion. It would do, of course, but their fur looked so much softer... Their siblings would love that for their nests, Swanpaw was sure of it.

Swanpaw bristled at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, a dark, grimy tom looming in the darkening surroundings. Curious? Why yes, they were. And this stranger on their territory was something else to be curious about. "Who are you?" She questioned, almost at the same time her brother spoke. Morningpaw had placed himself between them, and Swanpaw's blue eyes narrowed slightly... But she stayed put, gaze sweeping over their surroundings before settling back onto the unfamiliar cat. He seemed to be alone... But she was still wary and alert.

An amused smirk formed as the two curious kittens asked their questions as though they shared the same brain. "The name's Felix." A confident tone for someone lying through their teeth.

He chose to ignore the odd claim that this was forest cat territory, and instead focus on the conversation they were having before he had interrupted. "Looks like the sheep caught your eye. If you're interested in their wool, I could help you." Lanky legs shot him up and over the two smaller cats, paws landing him on the wooden gate nearby. A grimy claw tapped against the bolt that held it closed. "In exchange for my safe passage through 'river clan' territory, of course. You scratch my back, I scratch yours?"

Felix. Further confirmation that the cat wasn't meant to be here. "We can get the wool ourselves." He hissed, backing up a step towards Swanpaw. "And why would I do that? This isn't your territory, you need to leave!"

Launching himself upwards, Morningpaw bowled Grub over, instinctually digging his claws into the rogue for support as they both plummeted into the muddy pen below. The force of his leap had pushed him further from the fence's peak, positioning him beneath Grub. In the heartbeat it took for two of them to reach the ground, Morningpaw had managed to stretch one paw downwards, hoping it would alleviate the damage of fall. Wrong.

A sickening crunch broke the air, along with an uneven thud. A yowl followed, coming from the apprentice's own mouth. A sharp, agonizing pain stretched from his leg and pulsed through his whole body. It had bent the opposite direction, failing to bear the weight of both himself and Grub above. The tom's breath was heavy, unable to control the whimpers of pain that left his mouth on each exhale. Hackles raised, he pulled himself to his paws, keeping the injured leg lifted. "You need. To leave."

He had already expected his offer to be turned down. What he hadn't expected was the river clan tom to put everything he had into tackling him, the two landing amidst the mud and feces covered pen floor with a splattering thud. Maybe it was because Grub was there to witness it first-paw, but the sound of bone snapping was so loud, he thought it was him. Yellow eyes widened as the younger tom scrambled out from below him with a front leg bent so far backwards, he wondered how it was even still attached. It was honestly terrifying seeing someone so determined to make him leave, that they'd power through a mutilated limb just to see it through. The tom was right - it was time for Grub to leave.

CLANK!

With attention focused on avoiding further contact with either river clan cat, Grub hadn't paid much attention to what was behind him: a hoe and pitchfork. The two's metal ends clashed, sending their wooden handles tumbling into the already anxious crowd of sheep. It startled the lanky rogue, who scrambled up the wooden fence like his life depended on it. Because it would.

Maybe if Grub hadn't been toying with the latch to the gate in the first place, it would have still been secured in it's place, even after the tumble. All it took was one frantic, muddy paw to slip the metal bolt out of it's holster, the force of his jump sending one wooden door out and the other in. "Move!" His voice cracked as he slammed into the white pelt of the she-cat who still stood nearby, transferring the mysterious slop he was covered in onto her. The door that flung inwards was the catalyst to the horrific event that would take place in the next few seconds. Terrified bleating and the stampeding of hooves filled the once quiet, summer night. There was no looking back, or even the thought of anyone else but his own safety as his claws scratched against the wood of the fence in a desperate attempt to flee the pawfuls of scared woolen beasts.

His breath was heavy, chest heaving as he collected himself. He watched the sheep stomp their way away down to the road that led to the bridge near the river. He was safe. Yellow eyes wandered back to the barn, the first to enter his vision was the form of the river clan she-cat, her eyes staring unblinkingly at a small patch of white that lay flat where the sheep once were. He was certain that that wasn't some wool left behind. For the second time in his life, Grub was silent.

The talk was done, and Swanpaw tensed, wide eyes fixed on the stranger who called himself Felix - what an odd name, she thought - when Morningpaw leapt at him. The two went tumbling, and the sudden, loud crack! that split the air made Swanpaw's fur fluff up further. "Morningpaw!" She called, eyes widening when she saw the damage that had been done. "Get away from him!" She snarled at Felix, protectively crouched in front of her brother. His cries of pain made her heart twist in sympathy. "Hold on, I'll get you to Sandyshell--" She began, but while she'd been speaking, the rogue had been moving.

The crash of something else made Swanpaw flinch and look up... And that's when she was bowled over, tumbling backwards. "Move!" The rogue had snapped at her, but her pale paws seemed to be frozen in place. Finally Swanpaw managed to stumble, just in time to avoid the thundering of heavy paws and panicked bleating, the farm creatures fleeing in a cloud of white. As quickly as the commotion had started, it was over, leaving the farm they had been gazing at with such curiosity only moments ago empty.

Blue eyes focused on another cloud of white on the ground, unblinking. It wasn't the soft fur of the farm creatures. For several long heartbeats that could've been an eternity, Swanpaw stared.

"Morningpaw," Swanpaw's voice sounded odd to her ears. Swanpaw darted forward, "Morningpaw!" The pale she-cat cried. voice trembling. That made her angry, for some reason. "Hang on, I'll get you to Sandyshell! You'll be fine!" The she-cat whipped around, frantically searching for the rogue who they'd encountered.

The rogue who had caused Morningpaw's leg to snap so horrifically. "Felix!" There was a demanding snarl to her voice, "You wanted to trespass? Then trespass, because you have an escort. Help me! Help me get him to camp! If you won't then Get. Lost." She turned back toward her sibling. Morningpaw wasn't her sibling by blood, but he was in every way that counted just as her littermates were. She had to get him back to Sandyshell. Sandyshell could fix this. Sandyshell would fix this. Morningpaw would have some recovery, but he wouldn't be unconscious for long. He'd wake up back in the camp's medicine den.

...He had to.

"Hey!" Morningpaw hoarsely called, desperately staggering forward as the rogue scaled the gate, letting it swing open. "Come back! What. are you doing!" He choked out between breaths, tears welling in his eyes. The pain was so excruciating he was beginning to feel light-headed, the world before him began to spin. The tom was so disoriented by the pain that he didn't notice it - not until it was already too late: The clinking of metal on metal, the bleating of startled animals, the thuds of their paws as they made contact with the muddy earth behind him. The kit barely had time to turn around.

The last thing that his pale eyes met was a flurry of white, the last thing he heard was the terrified shout of his sister. Heavy hooves met his body, crushing his bones under their weight as if they were nothing. He shrieked, barely loud enough to be heard over the panic of the livestock. Pain, in his ribs. It emanated through every square inch of his body, and, suddenly, his leg didn't hurt anymore. Hooves, again. Pain in his pelvis. The continued crushing of bones. Every heartbeat was agony. Until, there wasn't one.

An impact. The world turned white. Then faded into darkness. Morningpaw felt numb. The pain he had just experienced, his mangled body, his disfigured limbs, no longer caused him suffering. Eyes shut, he allowed himself to be. His body fell into a sensation that he could only describe as floating. His insides felt funny, as if he were falling. Only, he didn't feel the sensation of wind blowing past his fur.

When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on the ground. He no longer felt the mud and grime sticking to his pelt. The pain he'd felt had disappeared completely. The miracle that he was even conscious at all hadn't come to his attention yet. Even in death, his mind remained disoriented.

The world still spun, it felt almost as if he were walking in slow motion. He could see Swanpaw, he could just barely hear her shouts. He was filled with a sense of relief. She would help him, she'd help his leg, getting him back to camp. After pulling himself upwards, and refusing to use the leg he still thought was injured, he stumbled forward to meet her. In what he thought would be an embrace, he leaned into her, but rested on nothing. He stumbled, the leg he had thought was injured instinctually keeping him on his paws. He didn't notice. All he noticed was the way his essence shifted as his sister walked through him. As if he didn't exist.

Slowly, he turned. Swanpaw was crouched over something. Something he'd seen many times, in the reflection of the moving river, in his memories as he tidied himself for his apprentice ceremony. If he hadn't felt so numb, he was sure he'd be sick to his stomach.

Morningpaw padded forward. He stood by Swanpaw's side, letting his tail wrap around her form. She cried. He'd never heard her cry before. Tears welled in his own eyes, and for the first time since he'd regained consciousness, he felt pain. A dull ache in his chest.  Even when Swanpaw had left him, he remained, eyes locked on the mangled figure in front of him. He never realized how small he looked. How foolish he had been.

Swanpaw returned to his side. Morningpaw leaned into her. If only she'd be able to know it - that he was here, right now. "I'm dead, aren't I, Swan." He whispered, but he already knew the answer. It was as if he were trying to fully convince himself of the fact. The pain in his chest grew tighter. The agony in his sister's voice hurt him more than the wounds on his mortal body. Deep down, he felt guilt. He had brought her here, and made her witness this. She didn't deserve to have to see this, she didn't deserve to feel this pain. "I'm sorry." Words that would only ever be heard in death. Words that would never reach the ears of those who deserved to hear them.

It was only when Swanpaw left his body that Morningpaw did the same, allowing it no spare glance. An instinct that he didn't question had led him away from the farm, and when Swanpaw left towards camp, Morningpaw paused. Under his breath, and with a heavy heart, he muttered a last goodbye to his sister. He felt as if this would be his last time seeing her for some time. After she had left his sight, he continued, splitting off of the path. He was so young that he didn't have the slightest idea where this part of the territory would lead him to. And yet, he would never grow old enough to learn.

The feeling led him through the reeds and across the river, and it pushed him forwards until he met the moors. It was then when he realized where he was meant to go. A pale collection of mountains that lay just above the horizon, barely visible from the distance. A great stretch of land laid between himself and what he could only assume to be Highstones. Although he felt nowhere near up to the task of travelling it, he took his next step forward, leaving Riverclan territory behind.

The step marked the end of life as he knew it. Never again would Morningpaw be returning home.