Book 1 - Warriors: The Shadow Outcast

Chapter Eight

Rainpaw dragged his feet through the snow as he carried the three kits. The icy wind blew toward him, making him have to look at the ground to go on. Rainpaw's wounds had stopped bleeding because the air around him had basically frozen the blood so that it couldn't ooze out. He was still in pain, though, and it was slowing him down.

The kits were fine, though the golden brown one kept trying to get out of Rainpaw's grip. The white one was rather still and the black one moved a bit but only every few seconds. They seemed too tired from shivering to struggle too much, which was somewhat a good thing.

Rainpaw's mind was racing—no matter how he thought he could get out of this, he was proven wrong. These kits meant the world to him at the moment, so of course he wasn't going to give up on getting the kits to RiverClan. He couldn't stop in ShadowClan, they'd think he was a rogue trying to steal kits and send him out if not kill him first and keep the kits for themselves— well, Robinpaw had told him that had happened when Brokenstar was leader, whoever that was.

He was running out of options, and he could tell that the kits were getting colder than he was. Rainpaw knew this was bad because he'd actually been to a vet camp when he was younger and still human. Rainpaw knew from that camp that hour old predator animals had to be kept safe and warm by their mother to get stronger because they couldn't see or hear—their nose was the only thing they used.

The kits started squealing then, crying for their mother's warm milk. Rainpaw sighed but then lied down in the cold snow and curled his body around them to warm them up. They immediately quieted down as he started giving them his body heat, making him smile. Rainpaw wasn't doing anything really helpful at the moment, but at least he was warming up the kits so that they could live a bit longer.

After about fifteen minutes Rainpaw gathered the kits scruffs into his mouth and painfully stood up. His legs were numb but he didn't care much. Rainpaw just focused on moving forward.

Rainpaw's body was slowing down and it was probably because of the blizzard that just kept getting worse. The snow was piling up as the wind blew the snow toward him, and he could tell that it was not going to stop soon.

Instead of thinking of the snow and the pain, Rainpaw decided to change the subject. He started thinking of back when he was human, when things were normal. Rainpaw tried to find things he missed, but the only things he missed at all were Daniel and Alfie. His mother was never there and neither was his father, add in the fact that everyone thought he was a creepy tattoo freak and you could basically say that he hated his old life now, and that he never wanted to go back.

Yes indeed. Rainpaw knew he would never miss the human Holiday's such as Halloween or Christmas. He wouldn't miss the rush through life or the glares and whispers. He wouldn't miss his over-worked father or his unproductive mother. He wouldn't miss the shadows that he lived in to keep everyone else away—he wouldn't. This life was better, much better, and he seemed to have finally accepted it.

Rainpaw's ears grew alert as he realized he was now by the lake entering ShadowClan territory. He made sure to stay in the two tail-length span that ShadowClan couldn't claim as their territory. He knew it was already moonhigh but still. If ShadowClan knew that he was hauling kits over to RiverClan, he'd never be let go. They'd tell everyone and then the kits would be known as half-Clan kits that is, if they even lived.

Rainpaw shook his head before focusing on the road ahead. The slight hum of the snow was making him very tired, and all he wanted to do was lie down. He didn't even notice when he collapsed, only that he was suddenly clouded with darkness.

¤¤¤  

"Who is he?" asked an unfamiliar voice then.

"He reeks of ThunderClan!" yowled another cat.