When the queen known as Dappledfrost gave birth, the whole of ArcticClan moaned and gasped. The first kit was a she-cat, a sturdy kit with a pure white pelt. Her eyes were shut tight. She was all an ArcticClan queen could hope for; her pelt would make her blend in with the snow and made her a liable candidate for deputyship, and, later on, leadership. But the next kit...

He was a tom with a pelt as black as as a star less night sky. He was much smaller than his sister, one of the smallest kits the clan had ever known. And his eyes... He was newborn, but his brilliant amber eyes were wide open.

A black kit? Nearly unheard of! In the whole of ArcticClan's legacy, this was the second crow-black cat. The first was a she-cat named Ravenkit whom had been murdered as an apprentice. Her killer was finally classified as an unidentified rogue, but everyone knew the murderer was none other than Ravenpaw's very own father, who saw her as a disgrace. Dark pelts did not blend in with the snow and ice and were thought of as worthless hunters, fighters, and warriors in general. It was said that black cats were cats with hearts aflame with the flames of hell ( The cats knew only of Heaven and Hell, and the term "StarClan" was unheard of ). The elders told of how black cats were the reincarnations of warriors who had sinned and landed themselves in hell, and who were reborn with the blackness in their hearts now spread to their entire bodies.

Dappledfrost had, upon seeing her son, shrieked and flung him across the den. She pushed him away as his sister suckled indignantly, but gave up as fatigue overcome her.

The next day, Dappledfrost named her kits. The white she-cat was adored and admired, and the black tom was ridiculed and, eventually, ignored. While his sister bared the name "Snowkit" the tom was given no name. He was referred to as "Forgottenkit" and the name suited him, for he was forgotten. Ask an average member of ArcticClan how many kits Dappledfrost and Creamberry had, and they would say one. They would also go on about how amazing the broad-shoulderered, snow-colored she-cat was, and about how her parents must have been so proud. But they were not. For they had created a devil kit, a tiny kitten with the flames of hell writhing in his heart. Am I the only one who notes how ridiculous this sounds? I hope not, for all readers of this here book, if any, should understand to the full extent of the irrational hatred ArcticClan felt toward black cats, a small, amber-eyed one in particular.

However, hated he was, one cat by the name of Maplekit cared for Forgottenkit. Why the calico female with big green eyes cared for that wretch, as members of ArcticClan said, was unknown. It was only known that she adored him.

On the third day since his arrival, amber eyes still open, a kit only three moons older than him licked the small kit until her tongue was scratched. His mother had refused to sleep with him, and Forgottenkit shivered uncontrollably in the gusty winds that spurred through the giant oak hollow. When Forgottenkit purred in the new, comforting heat, Maplekit closed her eyes and did something mighty close to a smile.

One thing was for sure: Maplekit loved that kit.