StarClan has never regretted it's choice.
Icestar's words echoed in Poolstar's ears.

Many moons has passed since her naming ceremony.
Poolstar had led her Clan through countless seasons, good and bad.

She sat on the Highrock, letting the newleaf sunshine dapple her pelt.
The stone beneath her felt cold, and even the sun seemed unable to soften the chill beneath her pelt.
Leaf-bare had been reluctant to loosen its grip on the snowy forest, and prey was still scarce.

Even Featherfall looked bony underneath her thick pale white tabby pelt as she stretched beside the frozen nettle patch.
Thornwing sat beside him, wolfing down a scrawny shrew.

Shadowkit, Cherrykit, Flarekit, and Shinekit were play-fighting, chasing one another's tails and bundling one another around the snowy clearing.

Briarfang and Briarpool had given birth to two kits, Shadowkit and Cherrykit..

while Splashstream and Hawkflame had became mates and had Flarekit and Shinekit.

Dovenose, the IceClan deputy, sat beside Poolstar. "I bet they call that training," she purred in amusement, flicking her tail toward the kits.

A fourth kit, Icekit, was stripping a frozen leaf from its stem, concentrating hard.
She carefully ran her claw around the stalk, unaware that Shadowkit was creeping up behind her.
Shadowkit pounced, landing neatly on Icekit's tail.
Shocked, the little frost white she-kit leaped into the air.

Poolstar shook her head.
Icekit had been nervous from the day she was born.
It had taken her mother nearly half a moon to coax her out of the nursery.

Poolstar hoped that, when she gives Shadowfoot to her as a mentor, the young cat will learn to have courage from the fearless warrior.

"Do you remember your first moon of training?" Dovenose asked.
Poolstar nodded, sighing as memories warmed her heart.
She had played like this with Featherkit, Duskkit and Bravekit.
All three walked with StarClan.

So many familiar faces were gone at a time when the Clan was hungrier than it had ever been: Hawkflame, Swiftfur, Braveheart, Bluefeather.

Even Blackfrost.
The black warrior had died just a few moons earlier, chasing DawnClan invaders out of the territory.
He had died as he lived, claws unsheathed, hungry for a fight, and his Clanmates had found him in a pool of blood, like the one Poolstar had seen staining the snow so many moons ago.

The Clan was weaker without him, but Poolstar did not miss him.
She would miss the once good cat Blackfrost had been.

But she also missed Braveheart.
Her faithful old friend had kept her secret till the end, only ever speaking of the lost kits with the fond grief of a father.
Poolstar still carried the guilt of never telling him that one of them lived on.
He'd know about that now; he'd see Sunkit from StarClan.

Finally he would understand why she'd watched that DawnClan cat with such interest, always seeking them out at Gatherings, cheering with such warmth when her warrior name was announced.

Goldenpelt has become a fine warrior.
Goldenfur has raised her well, and she was very proud of her.

Did Goldenfur know that?
They had never shared words since the night she'd given him Goldenkit.
They kept apart at Gatherings, fearing that some cat might make the connection between the lost of Poolstar's kits and the appearance of a stray in DawnClan.
But she had never stopped loving him and Goldenpelt.
And the memory of their night at Fourtrees was lodged in her heart.

Poolstar sighed.
Dovenose glanced at her. "What's worrying you?"
"I was just thinking," Poolstar murmured. "We've had so few kits born recently. Who will keep the Clan strong and well fed through leaf-bare? The elders's den gets fuller each season." Ravenbird, Springleaf, and Snowheart all made their nests there now.

On the far side of the clearing, Owlpool and Lakepaw emerged from the medicine cat den.
Lakepaw had taken an interest in the knowledge of herbs and cures, and had decided to become a medicine cat apprentice.
Owlpool has been training her apprentice well, and Lakepaw was passionate about the wellfare of her Clanmates, even though she could sometimes have a fiery temper.

The black medicine cat looked exhausted.
The sun had risen that morning on a camp full of bleeding, disheartened warriors, driven back from Icerocks the day before after a desperate attempt to take it back from DawnClan.

They'd fought, with patrols led by Dovenose and Shadowfoot, who at times seemed fiercer and thirstier for battle than his mentor, Blackfrost, ever had.

And they had lost, been chased back into the snowy forest bloodied and humiliated.
Back to their camp of too many elders and no apprentices.

What will happen to IceClan now?