Rowanpaw watched little Hopekit struggle through her nest, fluffy ginger fur still thick with kit fluff. Her eyes, barely even open, glowed the normal kit blue, full of wonder and excitement of life, despite knowing nothing. Emberheart leaned down, licking her daughter's lightly striped head.

"She'll be great, don't you think?" Emberheart's mew was soft and loving.

"Definitely," Rowanpaw answered, as Primkit and Meadowkit went racing past, mewling in excitement as they pounced into their nest, tackling each other, pawing in happiness and fulfillment of life. "She'll be one of the greatest warriors."

"What about me?" Bluekit waddled over, unsteady on her young paws, but growing stronger every day. Breamkit and Bramblekit, her brothers, were tussling softly at Ashbreeze's strong side, her fur smooth and lush, much like Emberheart's glowing frame.

"Well, you'll be one of the best, little kit." Rowanpaw leaned down and nuzzled her kindly. "Go on back to your mother." He nudged her that way.

As she waddled back, Ashbreeze licked her kit's ear before picking her up softly by her scruff and settling her down by her brothers. Instantly, they squealed in excitement and attacked her. "Go easy on her, she's smaller than you."

Another cat entered the small nursery, brown fur glowing. Rowanpaw purred at the sight of her, and her yellow eyes glowed. She likely would've greeted him, except that she had a large, plump mouse in her jaws. She dropped it by his paws, then greeted, "I caught it myself!"

"Good catch!" Rowanpaw purred, unable to stop staring at her eyes. Something felt... wrong. It felt like he hadn't seen her in moons.

"You okay, Rowanpaw?" she asked, tilting her head.

After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah, just feeling a little sad, but I don't know why."

"Alright, feather-brain," she meowed with amusement, then looked around at the queens. "Do any of you need any prey?"

"I just ate a little ago," Ashbreeze answered happily.

"And I shared a sparrow and half a finch with Rainsong," Emberheart meowed, looking at her friend with enjoyment. The queen, currently nursing a tired Flintkit, nodded in agreement.

"Great!" The young she-cat dropped to her stomach with a dramatic sigh. "I've been dying to get some rest." She pulled the mouse toward her, sniffing at to find the juiciest part.

But Rowanpaw felt something weird in his chest. "Don't joke like that," he said, a little fiercely.

"What?" The she-cat raised her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Don't joke about things like that. About dying."

Sparkkit looked at him curiously. "Um... Alright."

Then Rowanpaw realized something. "You said you caught this? How?"

She looked confused. "Well, I hunted it. Do you think it ran under my paws?"

"But, you're a kit..."

"Hey, rude!" She pushed at his shoulder, then seemed to realize his expression. "Rowanpaw, I'm almost ten moons old. Why wouldn't I be an apprentice?"

"But... You're not. You're only five..." Then, a scream cut through his head, along with the sound of a rushing storm. He was still staring at Sparkkit, but all he could see inside his head was her body, falling from the tree then slamming down onto the ground. He could remember the fallen tree, dragging her body into the small cover near its roots that had been pulled free from the ground. He had seen the last breath fade from her tiny, starving body, her gaze clouding.

Emberheart! He looked back at his friend, his old mentor, staring into her eyes. They were soft, caring, a little worried. "Rowanpaw, Sparkpaw is a growing she-cat, you shouldn't joke about her being a kit. You're worrying me, little one."

"You... You shouldn't be here," he whispered, remembering the blood, the way it had pooled at his paws, warming his skin, wetting his fur. He could see the light dying from her beautiful gaze, hear Hopekit crying as she searched for food. Rainsong's soft look as she took the kit to raise her own.

"Rowanpaw, are you okay?" Ashbreeze meowed.

"You... Know my name?" he muttered to the she-cat.

"Of course she does." He looked back at Emberheart. "She's known you since you were born. Now Rowanpaw, why shouldn't I be here? I have to take care of my kit, don't I?"

"But... You died..."

Emberheart's gaze turned weak, full of grief, and blood suddenly began to fill her nest, curling around Hopekit's small frame. It swirled around, a dark pool of terrible memories, leaking out of the breaks in the nest, trailing closer to his paws. "Are you sure it wasn't you that died that day?"

Rowanpaw was suddenly awake, breathing heavy, his chest tight, his head aching. His gaze was blurry, and for a blissful moment, he forgot where he was. Then his senses began to flood back into him, the sharp sap of trees, the sickly thick smell of mud, the sweet scent of bark. He was inside the very tree Sparkkit had died in, where Blazepaw had been attacked as a kit by a fox, only to be saved at the last moment by Emberheart.

Emberheart...

Oh, Emberheart.

The shattered pieces of his heart began to burn, and all he wanted to do was screech out in pain. He dug his mud-clotted claws into the bark, clenching his teeth until it hurt. Suddenly he forcing himself to remember every detail of Emberheart. The way she always kept her tail out of the mud, even when she was empty of hope and wanted to let it drag through the soil; how her eyes lit up with love and excitement when she spotted Heronclaw; and even how her whiskers twitched with amusement at everything Birchsplash did, from tripping over his paws to suddenly chasing his tail.

Everything was agony, sadness tearing through him. He gazed sightlessly into the pine forest, feeling empty inside. He loved so few, kept only so many close to his heart. And yet, those were the cats that died. He had shut himself off after Sparkkit but opened for Emberheart. And she left him, just as his best friend had. Now, he only had Blazepaw. But how long would that last? How long until StarClan took him, then the rest of his Clan?

One day, I will be alone... Sighing weakly, Rowanpaw watched the forest for a moment longer before forcing himself to his paws. Starvation clawed at his stomach, begging him for prey. But he just padded with his tail limp and his head down, heading slowly for his camp. As he traveled, he scented a few of his Clanmates in the middle of hunting, their smells faint over the stench of his territory, and decided to leave them be. He didn't want to talk, anyway. 

Before he knew it, he had arrived at the entrance to his camp. He slowly began to climb up, staring weakly at the small jump he had to make to a small ledge to be able to pull himself up. Bunching his muscles, he leaped. But somehow, despite the jump being so small he had been able to make it since he was a young kit, he missed. His stomach slammed against the rock, front paws scrambling for a hold as his back paws hung, swinging, in midair. Then he fell, struggling in the air for only a moment before hitting the ground with his back.

It hurt, with the quickly-healing wounds on his chest opening from the sudden movement. He growled in anger and in pain, struggling to flip over and get to his paws. At least the ground is soft, he thought sardonically, and suddenly wondered if Sparkkit would've survived if she had hit the marsh, and not a tree root. 

The dream resurfaced in his mind, and new pain filled him from the inside. Why couldn't that be real? Why couldn't his Clan be strong, like in his dream? Growling, he forced himself back up the jump, and leaped once again, this time managing to make it. He crawled up to the opening in the mountainside, climbing into his camp. Most warriors were out of camp, with only Leafpelt left to guard. No, Bloomcloud was in camp, too, partly hidden in the shadows of the entrance to the small cave of the warriors' den.

She looked very tired, breathing rather heavily. Her sides, ribs obvious under her short coat, moved up and down quickly but evenly. There was a small longing inside him, to tuck himself into her fur like had when he was a young kit when he was scared from a thunderstorm, where Sparkkit would poke his shoulder until he followed her out of the den to the camp entrance to watch the crashing clouds above, jumping when silent white lightning lit up the sky. She had enjoyed it, but he never liked the loud noise.

But she wasn't his mother. He wasn't her kit. Her kits were Frondpaw, Carppaw, and Sparkkit. He and Blazepaw didn't have a mother. Of course, right at that thought, he smelled her. Aspenheart. He looked at the forest behind him, seeing her approaching camp with empty jaws, walking next to Hawktail. Both looked skinny, underfed, and he was glad. Not wanting to see them anymore, he went down the rocks into camp and headed straight for the nursery--the only reason he had returned was to see Primkit, Meadowkit, Fernkit, and Hopekit.

He entered, and immediately noticed the dark, somber mood in the den. His eyes landed on the empty place Emberheart had made her nest. But the bedding had been removed, and now blood stained the stone where it had once lay. Right next to the spot, Rainsong was nursing Flintkit and Hopekit. As always, the two tiny kits were trying to eat, but there was nothing, no milk to suckle. But yet, they continued to try. Rainsong looked weak because of it, so skinny her cheeks were sunken, and her blue eyes were dull and looked like they were bulging from her skinny face. Her ribs stuck out of her silver tabby pelt, with her tail limply laying over the side of the nest. Hopekit and Flintkit did not look much better. They were thin, yet still slightly plump because of their young age. 

Across the small den, Ashbreeze was watching with eagle eyes as Bluekit tried to walk around the flat nest's edge. She was weak, and despite being over a moon old, was obviously struggling. Suddenly, she gave a light cough, and quick as a flash, Ashbreeze grabbed her and dragged her back to her chest, covering her daughter with licks. Bluekit was too weak to protest, and allowed it, eyes dull and tired. Breamkit watched with quiet, soft interest, but Bramblekit lay still. Since they had been born, he had always been the weakest, and it was no secret to the Clan he had been close to death for the past few days.  

But he had continued to survive, for one reason: Lakeshine the elder had given her tiny share of prey to Ashbreeze to keep her the tom alive. And because she did not get a single chunk of a mouse four days ago, she died the day after, too weak to stay alive through the night. Poor Fernkit had woken early to help Sandflight and found the elder dead. Rowanpaw remembered the stories she told him when he was in the nursery as a kit, but he did not feel all that connected to the elder and did not mourn her death. Instead, he went out hunting, so that no one else died. He has caught a rat, a struggling creature caught in a thorn bush. If it had been free, hunting for itself, he would've never got it. 

That had been the first time he did not thank StarClan for the prey. His last catch before that had been the sparrow when he hunted with Hazelfur, Brownear, and Wishpaw, and even then he had silently thanked StarClan. But with the rat, he hadn't. He had mercilessly taken its life and brought it to the nursery to Rainsong. 

Suddenly, Rowanpaw realized Primkit was watching him with worry. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her bright amber eyes, which were so much like her brother's, dull from the hardships of life. He remembered her in his dream, running around joyfully, pouncing on her littermates. He remembered how she acted in the garden in the Old Twolegplace, the game he played with her and her littermates, racing from bush to bush. Would she ever play a game like that again?

"Fine." He didn't recognize his own voice. He didn't speak often anymore, not even to his sister. After all, no one spoke to him. He stayed alone from others, even Hazelfur sometimes. Meadowkit would stray away when she saw him, obviously deterred by the somber aura around him, and the broken look in his eyes. Fernkit was often too busy to spend time with him, hiding away in Sandflight's den to help the struggling medicine cat. Only Primkit, Blazepaw, Rainsong, and Hazelfur spoke openly with him, and not just small talk when they had too. 

But even then, he didn't want them, he wanted Emberheart. He needed Emberheart.

"Do you want to play?" She didn't look like she could even manage to run for longer than a few moments, much less play. She didn't even want to play, he could see that. She just wanted him. But darkness had frosted over his heart, and his eyes reflected the shadows he felt inside. When his cold gaze locked onto hers, she shrunk lower into her small nest, pressing against Meadowkit's sleeping side.

Sadness attempted to pierce his shattered, frozen heart, but the ice fought it away, leaving him empty and blank. He went over, sniffing the small form of Hopekit. She shivered when his cold nose touched her fur, and mewled in starvation. It was like she wanted him, and only him, to fix it. And he would. He nuzzled her again, and just smelling her sweet kit scent, so much like Emberheart's, he felt the ice inside of him softening just the smallest bit.

"I'll find you something to eat, I promise," he said to the tiny being before pulling back. When he padded from the den, and as the last of her scent faded from his nostrils, the ice reformed, thicker than ever.

Rowanpaw noticed the patrols had returned. Two frogs and a baby sparrow were what the two patrols had to show for their hard work throughout the day. "They were a little too busy to notice us," Duskfang was saying, rolling one of the frogs over with his paw.

Brackenfoot, the leader of the other patrol, meowed, "the mother went out hunting, and left her baby behind. It had no chance."

"It's a pity, really," Leafpelt approached on soft paws. "Didn't even get a chance to get bigger. Imagine if it was an adult. It would have much more meat on its bones."

"We probably wouldn't have caught it as an adult," Brackenfoot pointed out, and Brownear nodded in agreement, then stood and stretched his legs.

"I'm going to head out, try to hunt a little more. Maybe it's mother has returned." He nodded to the young sparrow, which Rowanpaw realized didn't even really have feathers yet, just a thick fluff over its small, body frame. Barely bigger than a mouse, and likely with less meat. But even still, his weak stomach growled, clawing at his insides, begging for just the tiniest bit of prey. He looked down his brown pelt, almost like he was expecting to be able to see movement. Instead, he just saw his ribs, detailed clearly against his short fur. 

"Not yet," Clovertail came up on skinny legs, and they shivered when she stopped. It was obvious she was finding it hard to stand. "Dawnstar is calling a meeting when every cat is in camp."

"Well, everybody's here, so get it started." Brownear impatiently shook out his fur.

"Hickoryclaw is still out with your apprentice, so I think not." Clovertail flicked her tail, looking slightly agitated.

"Why do we need them? They aren't real Clan cats." He looked at Brackenfoot for support, but the near-black brown tom was quiet, shifting awkwardly on his paws. 

"Hickoryclaw and I have become friends recently. He's not that bad," the tom said. Brownear looked betrayed, and growled in anger.

"They're rogues! And Wishpaw! She's almost as old as me, yet hasn't made a single catch since she joined the Clan!"

"Hunting is hard right now," Leafpelt meowed to her mate, snorting in frustration at his rude words. "You don't blame the apprentice, you blame the mentor. And besides, Hickoryclaw is only out with her right now because you refuse to."

Brownear looked at his paws, then grumbled, "fine, I'll take her out tomorrow, okay?" With a lash of his tail, he stalked across the clearing and settled heavily, beginning to lick the fur on his shoulder. Sighing, Leafpelt walked over and lay next to him. They didn't say anything, but she began to clean the side of his neck, and he let out a breath of calm, and closed his eyes in contentment. A small purr even began to rumble in his chest.

Rowanpaw sat heavily, clawing the stone ground. He wanted to get back out to hunting, not wait around for a useless meeting. Hopekit and his littermates were slowly starving while his Clanmates wandered around the crowded clearing, not as impatient as him but still wanting to get moving. Every moment counted in their fight against starvation.

Finally, though, Hickoryclaw led Wishpaw into the clearing, and looked around in surprise at the crowd of cats. A few let out murmurs of relief, and Dawnstar rose from where she was settled and headed to the rocks by the camp entrance. "Let all my Clanmates listen to what I need to say," she called lightly.

Rowanpaw looked at Hickoryclaw, expecting to see embarrassment, but he stood tall and walked with a head high. Wishpaw, though, slunk slowly after him. They passed Dawnstar on the rocks and settled with their Clan. Rowanpaw silently slipped through his Clanmates and sat against Blazepaw's side. Feeling his brother's haunches against his sent warmth through his fur. Frondpaw sat on his other side, with Carppaw right next to her. They both looked alarmingly skinny, and Rowanpaw did everything he could to not look at Blazepaw's flank to judge his amount of starvation.

Dawnstar looked around her Clan, waiting for them to settle, then began. "As you all know, I planned to attack EchoClan for a part of their territory before leaf-bare began. As you can also probably tell, leaf-bare will be upon us any day now. Yet, this is the first time I've mentioned the battle in awhile. I have been talking to Clovertail, and we decided that a battle is not a good idea."

Instant murmuring shot up after her speech.

"But it was our only hope!" Frondpaw whispered to her brother, shifting on her mud-stained paws. 

"Please, listen to me," Dawnstar called to her Clanmates, and slowly they quieted, looking at her for an answer. "Surely you all realize that, though we desperately need new territory, we cannot afford a fight? If we fought, we would be injured and weak, and infections happen more often then not in our territory, and Sandflight does not have the herbs to help us once we reach a certain point. And that would be whether we won or lost. I doubt any of you could look me in the eyes and say you're confident about us winning a battle against any of the Clans?"

She looked around at the cats, her eyes almost having a desperate gleam in them. But every cat was silent, not even daring to murmur. They all knew it was hopeless, there was no question.

"So what do you suppose we do?" Duskfang asked finally. He stared at his leader not with anger, but instead with fear. He was scared for his Clan, for his future. He was lost, and he needed guidance. Rowanpaw stared at him and his leader with a blank, broken stare, frost lining the edges of his vision.

Dawnstar lowered her head. "We..." she broke off, looking at Clovertail. The deputy turned her head away. She sighed and started again. "I decided, that at the next Gathering, I will ask the other Clans for help."

Shock went through the warriors, and they murmured to themselves.

"We've never had to ask for help before!" Juniperfur whispered.

"We've never had so few warriors before, though," Leafpelt answered.

"Exactly," Dawnstar meowed. "Leafpelt is right. I hate to say it, but BatClan is failing. We have so few warriors, and too many young cats to feed. We need help. Even when we find prey, we are now too weak to hunt it. We fail our jumps, or cannot run fast enough. Without the help of another Clan, of stronger cats, BatClan will fall, and we will be no more." She lowered her head once again, and added, a little more quietly, "I have failed this Clan, I know. But I won't cause the end of it." She looked up, determination shining in her eyes. "We will get stronger, I swear. We have always been proud of ourselves, but for now, we have to settle it down and ask for the other Clans to help us. Then, we will rise again. Our wings will beat better than ever, for we. Are. BatClan!"

As she yowled the last words, her inspired Clanmates joined her, even Clovertail, who looked so upset by the idea of begging for help. Duskfang spoke his agreement, too, opening his jaws wide and crying out into the musty air. He heard the weak yowls from the nursery, coming from the throats of queens and kits.

But Rowanpaw was quiet. He sat still, eyes dark, and stared coldly at his Clan, with no emotion in his gaze. His heart was entirely frozen.

Question #1: What do you think will happen with Rowanpaw? Do you think he'll ever get better?

Question #2: What do you think about Dawnstar's decision? Do you think the other Clans will agree to help?