Warriors: The Red Den.

Prologue.

Old snow, soon to be melted, lightly dusted the forest floor. The otherwise quiet night was quickly filled with the stomping of multiple paws on the cold ground.

   "Here! This is where I found it!" Meowed a small tabby she cat with a thick winter coat and bright green eyes. The ghostly white moonlight illuminated the night sky and reflected off the snow, making the otherwise foggy night fairly clear. A black and brown colored cat followed closely behind them with much less urgency in his step.

   "ShortTail" sighed the large tom in a tired voice. "If this is like last time-" But he was cut short by the she-cat who had a new found anger in her voice

   "It's not like last time!" She yowled in retort, racing over to an open patch in the forest's canopy. She stopped by a small kit that lay in the snow, too young to even open its eyes. It mewed shrilly, crying out beside the lifeless body of another molly.

   "It's the truth." Mewed the Tom with a slight hint of surprise in his voice.

  "Of course it's the truth! Do you think I'd lie about something like this?" There was no reply.

   "Well what do we do?" ShortTail asked slowly, unsure of their next actions. Once again there was no answer from the tom-cat.

   "MireFur?" ShortTail asked trying to recapture his attention. MireFur tore his eyes off the kit and turned back to ShortTail. He sighed deeply, knowing she wouldn't take this well. He looked away from her piercing gaze and sat on the snow looking down on the kit.

  "We should leave it." He finally answered in a voice as cold as the snow around them.

  "What? Leave it!" Challenged ShortTail angrily, her tail lashing back and forth behind her.

   "Yes, leave it!" Growled MireFur sternly. He could tell from the smell that the kit wasn't from any clan, or hadn't been in one long enough to pick up a scent. However, it also didn't smell like a kitty-pet. A sour, scornful expression spread across his face as his eyes returned to the kit, staring daggers at its small body.

  "There will be no further discussion. Leave it here. We don't need anymore mouths to feed and this one's too weak to be of any use to the clan."
  "What about their mother? Shouldn't we at least return her?" ShortTail begged more than actually asking.

  "Do not. We've already been gone for long enough and they could be riddled with sickness."
  ShortTail began to speak, but caught herself. The kit looked fine, rather healthy in fact, and the Molly smelled clean.

   MireFur began to pad his way back down the trail they had followed, carefully studying the paw prints in the snow.

   ShortTail couldn't help but look at the poor kit one last time, the cat crying out for warmth, tugging at some natural instinct in ShortTail. Slowly, she reluctantly padded away from it, following behind MireFur back to camp.