Dawn of Hope

Chapter One

The forest was silent.

The land that was usually filled with noise and action was silent. It felt dead and uninhabited. The air was bitter cold and the ground covered in a thick blanket of icy snow. Trees loomed high above, their branches stripped of any leaf growth, standing like the silhouette of skeletons. Even the evergreens were bleak as they too were completely covered in a frozen white. The forest was silent.

Silverstorm's paws were completely numb from the cold. Her fur was fluffed up as thickly as she could possibly get it to be, but the freezing temperature of the air still nipped painfully at her skin. Foggy clouds formed in front of the faces of all three of the cats who were out on patrol as they exhaled heavily. The she-cat glanced upwards towards the sky. They had left at dawn, and it was already approaching sunhigh, not that the time of day made any difference in how bright out it was. It was constantly so overcast that it was almost impossible to tell the morning from the evening, even for a cat with sharp eyesight.

Leaf-bare had come early this year, far too early for them to make preparations for the season of bareness. There was not a single cat whose ribs were not protruding through their sides, not in any of the four Clans. For the two forest dwelling clans, there was barely a mouthful of food per cat, and most chose to let the kits and their mothers have all of it. Just getting through the woods was a strenuous task with all of the snow to force their way through. The river dwelling cats were unable to fish, due to the water being frozen over, and they had now resorted to catching what little prey they could find roaming about in their territory. But hunting on land was not something that they were accustomed to, and therefore they gathered very little. The moor cats perhaps had it worst of all. It is common knowledge that they have always been the most sleek of all the Clans to begin with and have very little fat stored away for times like these. The rabbits had plummeted in number when the first flakes had begun to fall and were very rarely spotted anymore. It was rumor that the cats had begun hunting in unknown lands beyond their borders in order to stay alive.

Stay alive.

That was the only goal any cat had at this point, besides the few who had lost the will to live. So many had perished already from numerous causes. The grief and constant dimness of the world had consumed the minds of many to the point that they refused to do anything, sometime even staying outside all night and dying from the cold. These were hard times for everyone. Silverstorm was lucky not to have lost anyone close to her yet, but seeing the depression of her clanmates was enough to throw her off of line. She was also lucky to be one of the scattered few who had not fallen ill with greencough. Though she had contracted whitecough about a moon and a half ago, it had been caught early and treated before it was able to get any worse. As of the moment, half of the clan was violently ravaged by the disease and none were yet showing any signs of improvement.

The patrol had been given two tasks, to do both a typical border patrol and some hunting. Nobody was truthfully concerned about anyone crossing the border at this point in time. With every clan at their weakest, a sort a peace treaty had fallen between them and everyone left all prey to their rightful owners. Even ShadowClan had lost much of their arrogance and let themselves fall in and consider themselves to be an equal. While out under the trees, the most prominent danger they faced now was being caught in a snowstorm. One would sneak up and you wouldn't know it was coming until it was there, and it would be too late to escape. Blizzards were a very serious event now and getting caught in one would mean one would more likely perish than not.

However, the hunting portion of their trip had not been going quite so smoothly. The only thing they had to show for was a single scrawny mouse that Cloudwhisker had caught. It was actually rather surprising that he had been the one to find anything and not Streamflight. Cloudwhisker's apprentice had recently been infected with greencough and was not doing well at all. He and his apprentice had formed a very close bond to each other, Mistedpaw meaning the world to him. Both his mate and only surviving kit had passed several moons prior and having the eager but calm young tom around had really helped him cope with the loss. Once he'd been informed that the fluffy gray cat was seriously ill, Cloudwhisker had drifted away from the others and always seemed to be distracted. Silverstorm hoped he might regain his grasp on reality again soon, as she rather looked up the the white tom.

Up ahead, Streamflight, who was the set leader of the patrol, motioned with her tail for them to stop. The she-cat flicked her ears up and stood stock still. Silverstorm copied and could make out the faint rustling of a small creature in the shrew-sized gap in the undergrowth where it must have been attempting to take shelter. Several moments later, a small pointed snout stuck out from underneath the cover. It paused to check for any threats, and apparently not suspecting anything, cautiously crept out into the open. The dark cat sank down into a crouch and ever so slowly crept forwards. As tormenting as the snow may be to walk on for extended periods of time, it did however do a great job of muffling the sound of any misplaced paw steps. For that, any hunter would be grateful. Streamflight slipped towards her prey with ease, being extra careful to stay out of its line of vision. When the warrior was almost on top of the furry animal, she pounced, landing square on its back and bringing forth instant death.

Silverstorm almost felt bad now, since she was the only one who had failed to find or catch anything. As an apprentice, she had always struggled with hunting for a reason that still remained unknown to her. Of course, by the time she'd received her title of a warrior, Silverstorm had gotten it down. There were many who were still much better than her, in which today had once again reminded her of.

"Come, it is time that we return to camp. We've been out far long enough for one day," mewed Streamflight, her voice muffled by the shrew hanging from her jaws.

Silverstorm couldn't have been more relieved, and her weary, feelingless paws agreed.

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Well, there's the first chapter. It's short, I know, but I think I might be keeping it that way. I'll be able to update more often and perhaps actually stick to it. Might make them a tad bit longer though. As always, please let me know what you think. And may StarClan light your path!