Frozen Whispers

''This young kitten, Icekit, is not in a prophecy, no. But she has been destined to save the Clans from one cat...but is an extreme danger and could blow out all the Clans with one swipe of a paw. It is Icekit's job to find him, and end him. But how will she do that?''

Prologue

 * Few stars glimmered in the inidigo colored sky. Trees covered the dark clearing, and shadows casted on the ground. A sturdy shape slithered across the clearing, into a comfortable den. He was well-muscled with broad shoulders and ears angled to the front. "Bramblefall, your kits are coming," a cat whispered from the shadows, and the dark tabby that was entering the tunnel-like den knew it was Featherstep, the medicine cat. She had a hoarse tone to her voice, and Bramblefall knew that all medicine cats could be nervous when cats gave birth. "Heatherwing is ready." Bramblefall gulped, and he stepped out of the shadows. He was a thickly furred dark brown tabby with a black-ringed tail, black circles around dazzling amber eyes, and nicked ears. His mate, Heatherwing, was a beautiful, charming, attractive light gray tabby she-cat with ocean-blue eyes, elegant and charming. She was giving birth to his kits.
 * "Sit down," Featherstep ordered. She was a long-furred gray she-cat with amber eyes. She slid a paw over the ground, and murmured, "Heatherwing, I'm coming." She padded forward, and put a paw on the queen's belly. A spasm went through her, and Featherstep could tell the first kit was coming. "Push," she ordered the young queen, and she obeyed. A small one plopped on the moss, and almost immeditatly started wailing. Bramblefall leaped to his paws and sniffed the kit.
 * "Nip the sack," Featherstep snapped at Bramblefall. He drew his teeth over the sack, and nipped it, seeing the wet bundle roll out and onto the moss. Heatherwing started licking its fur the wrong way to warm it, but was disturbed by a jerk coming through her body.