[Fawn]

COLDKIT

3 Moons - RainClan - Kit

    He made his escape on a night bereft of moonlight; all the better, for his eyes could fully adjust and take in the surrounding vegetation without strain. What drove the small white shape over the dew-laden ground of Green Leaf, was a curiosity combined with what could only be a foolproof plan - as much as he could comprehend it as being such. Behaving himself just as the other kittens where, the wretched son of a LightningClan devil had listened with a feigned interest in the tales of the Elders, hearing them recite the code with a pride he had difficulty understanding or mimicking - especially not as far as the Code was concerned.

    It didn't inspire any sort of commitment in him, no burning bond of kinship kindled into life, no personal pride in what he belonged to. But it had given him the thread of an idea, and he followed that thread to what soon became a fully formulated plan. It centered around a specific law, and the knowledge gleaned from copious observations, Coldkit fully coming to realize the... immunity he seemed to have been granted based solely on age and innocence alone.

No warrior may neglect a kit in pain or in danger, even if that kit is from a different Clan.

    Coldkit felt the cool breezes kiss his pelt and the skin underneath it, chilling him, but he kept moving, confronting the foreign aromas that greeted him once he made the long trek over StarClan's Claws. The kitten came to a standstill, a few tentative moments passing before he became aware of one simple miscalculation; he could not distinguish the LightningClan scent from that of any other scent. He was not so much lost, as the trail had branched into separate directions, and he was uncertain if he had ventured to the edge of the moorlands or not (he had never been, and was not well acquainted with the land-markings or distinguishing plant-life).

    As if conjured from the dark recesses of the kitten's thoughts, a creature seemed to detach itself from the overlapping shadows of the wild, solidifying into a tall, statuesque tom with eyes as cold as starlight, and twice as empty.

”What do you think you are doing.”

Coldkit uttered a well-practiced squeak of stuttering timidity. ”Look-looking for my f-father! Do you know who he is?” Coldkit had only a name and a face constructed on logic and his mother's otherworldly visage for a base. The jet black feline was still as the rocks of StarClan's Claws, and for a long while, Coldkit found himself having difficulty keeping up the appearance of innocent fright and childish determination. Tell me if you know him or not.

Without a word, the shadow made a sharp pivot on black limbs and walked back the way he had come; Coldkit made as though to pursue, but the feline had outpaced him in what seemed like mere moments, and the kitten was left to sit, frowning into the darkness. At least, as the young devil noted, that his perceived immunity was not a bold assumption on his part but in fact an unspoken law of the land. Kits were not to be harmed. Kits were not to be punished too severely; no one would banish a kitten, if he whimpered and hid in his mother's fur, the decency of others would spare him a sentence any harsher than a stern talking-to.

Words: 572 | Tagged: Phoenix | Notes: No longer than two lines would be best, but this can scroll.

TURN YOUR BACK ON MOTHER NATURE

[Phoenix]

IF I SEEM DANGEROUS

"It has been quite a long day for all of us. You may return to camp; Rookfrost and I will finish patrolling the rest of the border."

With a voice as smooth and charming as ever, the alabaster devil addressed the three felines standing before him, tail curling lightly through the air and the hint of a smile ghosting across his lips. Crimson traveled across the two warriors – both of whom were so mediocre and painfully average that he bothered not to take note of their names – and the single, equally unimpressive apprentice, who was unfortunate enough to have been assigned to both study under one of the aforementioned felines and to been chosen to join this particular patrol, which they all considered a far cry from a pleasant stroll through LightningClan territory. Both warriors chose to glare at Whiteshade as though he were the enemy, and while that was an admittedly more accurate observation than most made, their inability to do anything but draw back and tremble under his gaze soon disgusted him as much as their reactions initially amused him. The apprentice, at least, appeared to have more of a spine, though the senior warrior could easily convince himself that it was not bravery that had him standing there sullenly but a simple inability to even recognize the unearthly quality of blood red eyes against pure white fur.

The midnight figure seemed to materialize out of thin air, a phantom in all but name. Inclining his head toward their very own Medicine Cat, he found himself somewhat curious as to what business could have drawn the tom from the depths of his den. A pause and a quiet observation cut the musing short, and he could feel himself growing more intrigued by the idea. So intrigued, in fact, that he would dismiss his incompetent companions and absolve them of any remaining duty to the patrol.

Predictably, the trio looked at him with similar expressions of pleasant surprise, and it took only a few more words before they turned tail and trotted lively – far livelier than they had been while heading toward the border – back to camp. Crimson eyes watched the pathetic felines for another moment before flicking to meet cold gray. According to the Medicine Cat, there was a kit at StarClan’s Claws searching for his father, and to those who knew what to look for, he happened to bear a resemblance to Whiteshade. "How curious," He mused, tail flicking lightly as he made to step by his companion and continue onward. A thought seemed to strike him, for the tom paused and added, "I can only assume you have no desire to accompany me further." It was perhaps not as much an observation as a suggestion.

Parting ways with Death dressed in black, the devil turned his attention onward, peering into the gathering darkness. Pale limbs carried him toward the arching spires he could barely see in the distance, and he found his pace quickening ever so slightly until he moved at a steady trot. Something like anticipation had found its way into his gut, though it had no business being there. It was not directed as much toward the prospect of meeting his son for the first time, but rather to appease the smoldering curiosity that needed to know: would his own flesh and blood dare to meet anything less than the high expectations set before him?

He slowed to a walk when he drew close to his destination, expression schooled into one of polite disinterest. Unseen by their target, crimson seemed to glow in the darkness, unblinking as he studied his son from afar, but made no move to approach him. As the situation was of a very delicate nature, he turned away from the alabaster kit and circled the area, moving silently and remaining out of sight as he searched for any sign of unwanted company. It was almost disappointing to find the clearing devoid of such intruders, and his monster, which had drawn its claws eagerly at the prospect of the hunt, settled back with a quiet growl. A moment passed.

Finally, the devil of LightningClan turned and picked his way toward his son. Rookfrost had not made a mistake; the young tom smelled sickeningly of fish and wet fur, and though he lacked the scarlet that made his parents so memorable, he could be no one else’s son. But did the kit know that? He stopped before the tiny feline and lowered his haunches to the ground, tail wrapping lightly around his paws in a way that might lure the less intelligent into a false sense of security. It was almost humorous, he noted idly, how much taller he was than the cat before him.

"It is dangerous to stray so far alone and defenseless. Who knows what monsters lurk in the darkness."

Whiteshade | LightningClan | Senior Warrior | Monster - Imagine Dragons

WOULD YOU BE SCARED?

[Fawn]

COLDKIT

2 Moons - RainClan - Kit

    At last, the night uncovered the cat Coldkit had been most anxious to meet, revealing alabaster fur as pale and cool as moonlight, with eyes of the unsettling intensity of what could only be blood. Red was not a strong enough descriptor, but crimson carried a lethal certainty, harmonizing with the tom coming towards him. To say that Whiteshade was something of a legend would have been an exaggeration, only because Coldkit did not believe in tall tales, and his father, while statuesque in appearance, was no far fetched tale his mother had filled his head with after he'd prodded and needled an explanation out of her. An instantaneous respect was triggered the moment his head had tilted back to meet the demonic gaze of Whiteshade, and that single heartbeat of recognition carried with it more reverence then any leader of RainClan was ever to likely receive from the devil's pale son.

It was not familial love that made his heart catapult against his ribcage, but the gratifying sensation of knowing he was not as unusual after all. Surely, surely this white nightmare who had sired him shared the same dark passions and coldness at his core? "I know," came the quiet, clipped mew, no trace of that whimpering juvenile stutter he'd adopted in Rookfrost's presence. "I'm not afraid. I was hoping I'd find one." Coldkit did not mean monster in the original sense that Whiteshade had; he cared not for anything vulpine or mustelidae or even that horrible lynx who would consider him almost too small to bother eating.

The monsters Coldkit sought were very much feline, or else he would never have gone looking. His gaze locked upon the warrior's moonlit outline, the bloody pools beset like rubies in white marble, stricken with awe by such a haunting visage. Of course, it wasn't as if the atmosphere didn't have something to do with it; slowly, the spell that had been cast over him began to loosen it's hooks upon Coldkit's heart, and the beats began to grow slower, less excited to the point of fluttering like a bird's. So you're real. Coldkit was pleased he hadn't waited until his apprenticeship to venture this far beyond the sanctuary of RainClan's nursery and borders; immunity was still very much the kitten's trump card, and he knew in his ice cold heart that a meeting with his father would have been much harder to arrange without it.

Words: ### | Tagged: @@@ | Notes: No longer than two lines would be best, but this can scroll.

TURN YOUR BACK ON MOTHER NATURE

[Phoenix]

IF I SEEM DANGEROUS

The kit remained unfazed when he materialized, and given that he had caused adult felines to flinch back with his phantom-like visage, the young tom’s composure was admittedly impressive. But no less than he would expect from one of his own blood. Crimson locked with the eerie blue before him as the father and son rested equally appraising gazes on each other. He had knowledge and a maturity beyond his age, which could only have been a few moons at most, yet the senior warrior did not miss the slight longing hidden within the excitement, both of which emanated from his small form. Having experienced a similar emotion once or twice, he recognized the former for what it was. The young kit wanted the approval of his father, wanted the confirmation that he was not alone to fight whatever demons might plague his small mind.

How quaint. Parallels were easily drawn between this young tom and one who was once a similar age, outcast only because his eyes were a brilliant red. But that young tom had grown up, and the innocent kit that he had once been had perished the moment he realized that monsters wore all sorts of suits. He and his sister had dealt with their special brand of monster. Thunderfang was dead, ripped to shreds by a beast in an encounter that he had only just managed to survive. LightningClan accepted the story easily enough, and he and Cherrypool had gone on their merry way – perhaps slightly merrier than before. With crimson eyes gazing down at pale blue, he realized that he held the power to mold his young son into anything he desired. It was almost a shame that he was not his father’s son – willing to reject a kit for an unusual appearance – for it would surely be better for the RainClan cat if his father took no interest in him. Merciful, even. He could live a normal life, grow up and raise a family of his own.

The sentiment was disgusting, and he could almost feel his lip curling in response.

"There are more monsters in this world than you could possibly imagine, hidden even in the most unlikely of lairs,” He offered evenly, not quite answering the implied question behind his son’s words: are you all I expected? One could accuse him of acting paternal and offering advice to the young listener, and he would only offer an enigmatic smile and a slight shrug. Next to admitting to his dangerous past times where others could easily eavesdrop seeming oddly paternal was hardly a crime at all. Clans could forgive mistakes made while in the throes of love; those made on midnight trips to the border were far less acceptable. "It is impossible to avoid all of them and audacious to go searching." Audacious for the inexperienced to go searching. The immunity his son had as a kit – and it was a clever use of the Code – would not last forever, and it would be unwise for him to continue investigations of such a nature as these without proper battle training. As his father, he was supposed to feel obligated to warn the kit off of these adventures; however, should his son be interested in learning what the senior warrior could teach – only for defense, of course – he would hardly deny his curiosity.

But that would begin later, if it began at all. For now, he supplied more words of wisdom. "Nevertheless, you will know when you have seen one." It was not a lie. If the tom was anything like himself, he would be able to recognize a fellow predator. There was a glint that lay in the eyes of those who harbored monsters beneath their fur, though it was faint enough that only those who recognized their own beast would know what to look for. Perhaps he had not yet had the time to become acquainted with what Whiteshade expected lay under his skin – he was young, after all – but if it was there, and if he was willing to learn, there was no time like the present. "So tell me: have you found what you are looking for?"

Whiteshade | LightningClan | Senior Warrior | Monster - Imagine Dragons

WOULD YOU BE SCARED?

[Fawn]

COLDKIT

2 Moons - RainClan - Kit

He stared into the void, and the void stared back; if murder had a color, Coldkit was looking at it. If cruelty had a smile that could peel the flesh from bone, it was on the white warrior's face as they gazed, gaining a feel for one another not as father and son, but as raw potential gained a feel for a masterfully crafted killing machine. This was his father. Coldkit knew it the same way he knew the night to be dark and the days to be long, and it was with a suppressed shudder that he stepped closer, willing the phantasm to remain anchored to reality.

There were layers upon layers of subtext, in the words spoken by the alabaster devil, and Coldkit drank them in as though he had spent the first two moons of his life dying of thirst, allowing them to tempt the shadowy edges of his heart out of their dark corners, flooding behind his eyes as if they had at last found someone else who had shadows too.

"So tell me: have you found what you are looking for?"

"Yes." Said Coldkit, this single, clipped word punctuated by his certainty; the delivery didn't betray his excitement, only the frozen gleam of two chilly blue eyes hinted at just what he was feeling right now. Against all the nights he had spent curled up beside his siblings, contemplating, wondering, yearning to know the truth of his birth, any questions he might've conjured in the small hours of the night for the elusive sire he had hoped to someday meet, had completely fled from his head. It was not a vacuous stare he gave Whiteshade, but an analytical one, as if, in the silence, his questions would be answered without having to speak them aloud.

One, however, burned behind his eyes, a blue flame that could be offered no respite. Did he feel it? Did he gaze upon his Clanmates and wonder what would happen if he hurt them? Did he contemplate doing terrible things to others - not out of any kind of personal vendetta, not because he hated them, but because it was guaranteed to be interesting? An image of Minnowkit playing in the Camp stream fluttered across his mind's eye, and he recalled the sharp, needling sensation building up in his muscles, that what if I just... question made of darkness that lurked in the back of his mind more and more lately. He didn't want to hurt Minnowkit.

He wanted to kill her. He wanted to see death up close. He wanted to watch the life ebb and flow from her body like water against the stream banks; was that wrong? In his heart of hearts, he knew it to be so. Do you think it's wrong? The question gleamed in his eyes, and at last, Coldkit spoke up. Any fears he had about his father being ordinary had been swiftly pounced upon and killed, reassurance rising out of the lifeless corpse of doubt.

"Am I a monster?" If it wasn't for the chilling delivery, any other cat would have laughed at those words - spoken in that high voice of youth, still a kitten and yet already asking probing, introspective questions. Already with a small crisis of identity. Coldkit was not certain of which answer he preferred more; yes, Coldkit, you are a monster too. That would quell those long nights of tossing and turning in his nest, unable to come to grips with those cold-blooded instincts he'd been born with. No, Coldkit. You could be, but not yet. That answer was equally pleasing.

It was equally as reassuring to know he had a choice, that the power to decide his own fate was within his tiny, alabaster paws.

Words: 641 | Tagged: Phoenix | Notes: No longer than two lines would be best, but this can scroll.

TURN YOUR BACK ON MOTHER NATURE