[Abyss]

[googlefont=Rajdhani]

DOGKIT

Nightclan Kit

The amount of times that the words “kits are not allowed to leave camp” had been said to her was surely far more breaths than she had taken in her mere three moons of life. It seemed practically every feline the young kit spoke to felt the need to remind her this, yet she was not entirely sure why. She didn’t lack the ability to hear. She heard them. She understood what those words meant. By now she had memorized how someone’s mouth moved when that phrase was spoken, and the tone and emotion they were spoken with, even without hearing the words out loud. Why did everyone feel the need to constantly tell her this? Why was it so important? And, even more importantly, why was it always her that they said it to? Did they not trust her?

These thoughts ran calmly through Dogkit’s mind as a Warrior- she wasn’t entirely sure who honestly- padded through the Nightclan camp tunnel towards the clan’s main cave, carrying her in his jaws. She could hear the larger tom grumbling under his breath through his teeth clamped on her scruff, little spotted legs and tail curled around themselves against her body. Her dull yellow-green eyes stared blankly ahead of them as the Warrior walked to the Nursery, stopping at the entrance and gently placing her on the ground. The kit blinked a few times before turning her head around, staring up at the tom. Was he upset with her? For what reason?

The Bengal she-kit stared very directly at the tom as he spoke to the other who approached. From previous experience and a guess, she assumed it was Skybringer, who occasionally watched over her and her sisters while mother was busy.

“I’m starting to get tired of finding her walking around outside. Does no one ever actually watch these kits? And why am I always the one finding her? Shouldn’t Clovermask be the one doing this? This is her job, not mine.” As the tom grumbled and growled, complaining to Skybringer, the brown she-cat at his paws slowly transitioned her blank stare into more of a glare. He was not pleased, and this displeasure was being aimed towards her mother. Not a very wise decision on his part.

“Maybe one day I will be the one carrying you into camp after you lose your legs and cannot walk?” Skybringer had opened her mouth to speak, but shut it quickly. Both of the adults stared down at the kit at their paws, a rather unsettled expression on the Queen’s face, while the tom seemed both confused and creeped out. Neither spoke, narrowed eyes staring daggers into the older tom for a few moments more.

But just as the Warrior began to open his mouth, the glare disappeared from her face, a small and rather innocent smile forming on her face. “I won’t leave camp again. Promise.” Her voice had grown a tiny bit more happy as she finally looked away, standing and doing a small trot into the Nursery. Both Skybringer and the Warrior stared after her before exchanging glances.

-----

That had been just yesterday. The brown Bengal shook her head recalling the event. Adults were such a pain in the tail, and so untrusting of kits. What did they expect? She let out a small sigh, glancing to her left. If she remembered right, she had seen the tom from yesterday head that way with some other Warriors, probably heading out on patrol. So perhaps it was better for her to not go that way, else he would probably find her again. So her body turned, gently trotting forward towards the trees.

She had just barely been able to catch sight of something shining in the distance this way a few times before. Maybe it was water? She had heard cats talking about a pond that was nearby, and she always wanted to see it. But, of course, she was always told no. Though, did that stop her? ……..

Dogkit pushed through the shrub ahead of her, paying no mind to the thorns that stuck out in every direction from it. Surprisingly, she managed to avoid getting poked for the most part. Though, even she could not be immune to the joy that was vines. As she reached the other side of the bush, she went to take a step forward, only to find that only her front two paws touched the ground. Meanwhile, her back legs found themselves twisted and twirled up in the vines, thorns poking at her, though not poking hard enough to really hurt. She attempted to pull a leg from them, but to no avail. A frown formed on her maw.

“Well that is no fun.”

Just as she went to pull again, a familiar scent tingled in her nostrils, her head turning. Not too far ahead of her, in the direction she had been heading actually, she spotted a striped and spotted figure nearly the same color as her. She blinked a few times.

“Hello mother. How was your walk?” The kit dangled still where she was, waiting for Clovermask to hear and spot her. She did stand out, didn’t she? Then again, usually it was hard for her to spot her mother when out and about like this, and she had inherited much of her mom’s looks, so maybe not.

897 & Katara

[Katara]

[googlefont=Playfair Display] [googlefont=Roboto] [googlefont=Kumar One]

if i was born as a blackthorn tree
i'd wanna be held by you, felled by you
fuel the

PYRE OF YOUR
enemies

clover

clovermask.

NIGHTCLAN DEPUTY // 57 MOONS

W

hen Clovermask had found her kits and brought them to camp, she had thought of a lot of things. She'd planned for them, too. She'd planned what she was going to say to Darkstar, she'd figured out how she was going to cover up that loner queen's death, and she'd successfully acclimated her kits to Clan life. She'd planned for so much, and had accomplished so much while doing it - she'd still been keeping up with her duties as deputy the entire time.

Didn't her warriors know this? They certainly weren't willing to cut her kits any slack, and they never bothered to keep their conversations very private when they complained about her 'discipline problems'. She rolled her eyes as she padded through the forest, on her way back to camp. Her kits didn't need discipline - they always listened to her, so why did it matter if they listened to anyone else or not? They were kits, they were going to do what they wanted, and she wasn't going to try to control them. Clovermask did the opposite of what the queens who raised her did, so she thought she was doing pretty well. She gave them all her attention and affection when she was with them, she fulfilled their every desire, and she knew they adored her. What else really mattered?

She frowned as she stalked through the forest, thoughtful. She did care about her own reputation, and not properly disciplining her kits could affect that. She wanted her Clan to respect her, because anyone who respected her would never question her. She wanted to be the kind of Clan leader that nobody would even think to question. But she wasn't going to make her kits hate her to achieve that.

Her paws had carried her out of the nursery mostly out of restlessness, as usual, but it had helped her think and plan this morning. Perhaps there was a way to get everyone what they wanted in this situation.

Suddenly, a warm and familiar scent drifted toward her, carried by the wind. In the same moment, she heard a muttered remark. When she quickly padded toward the source of the voice, pricking her ears - that was when she caught sight of the dappled tawny-brown pelt of a kit stuck in the undergrowth.

"Hello, mother. How was your walk?" Dogkit's tone was, as usual, dripping with airy innocence. Clovermask couldn't help but think of herself as a kit, how casually she'd acted as though nothing was wrong in the midst of doing something that was (she would later learn) wrong. Amusement flickered through her at the thought. Her kits may as well be biologically her own when they so often acted like her.

"It was a good walk, very thought-provoking. It seems I've come back at just the right moment," she remarked, touching her nose to Dogkit's exposed pads. Her toes wriggled a little, but her claws weren't out - she wasn't panicking or struggling; in fact, she was utterly calm. She began to use her claws to careful unravel the vines that had wrapped themselves around the young she-cat's limbs, not bothering to tell her to stay still when she was already so relaxed. "The amount of warriors I've seen yowling when they've gotten stuck in a thorn bush... you've put them all to shame," she said, pride touching her tone. "Though, your pelt is going to show it." She could already see the places where thorns had scraped away parts of her fur. Not enough to do any real damage, but perhaps enough to make her pelt feel a little lighter when it was all said and done. This bush would smell like Dogkit for at least a moon.

She tugged the last stubborn vine aside, and narrowed her eyes at the gaps she'd created. "Try pulling out now," she instructed. "And then we'll talk about why I've found you out here and not in camp," she added casually. Not a threat, but a promise that she wasn't just going to ignore this like she had the other times.

[attr="class","cltag"]tagged Abyss

[attr="class","clnotes"]notes clovermask was like 'discipline? never heard of her'

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[Abyss]

[googlefont=Rajdhani]

DOGKIT

Nightclan Kit

The light brown she-cat’s eyes watched with a silent but visible fawnness as her mother approached, thankfully taking notice of her presence rather quickly. She provided a light nod in response to her mother’s answer, blinking a few times. What was it that mother thought about most often on her walks? She was the clan’s Deputy, so maybe she thought about patrols and gatherings and responsibilities. Though, Dogkit hoped that her mother wasn’t nearly that plain. She would prefer to think that Clovermask’s thinking was much like her own: full of curiosity and intrigue about the world. And who knew, maybe she also thought about the darker things, like death and tragedy? This would explain where she herself had gotten her own head from, if it were true.

A gentle touch pressed against the kit’s small pink pawpads, her tiny toes twitching at the feeling. It was followed by rustling, twists of vines lightly tugging and releasing her back legs simultaneously. Even though this was an odd feeling, the bengal kit didn’t move, glancing backwards briefly at her mother.

Sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder how much the two of them were alike exactly. They both shared a similar brown bengal coat. They both were the calm sort in personality. But what else did they share? Did Clovermask have a desire to see the world? Did she often feel that she was different than the others in the clan? Did they share similar goals? Though, with that last one it was hard to say what Dog’s goals were exactly. She was still young afterall. She didn’t experience the same ‘I want to be the next Leader!’ thoughts that most cats her age did. Which brought forth her next question. Had Clovermask wanted to become Deputy? Had that been a goal of her’s?

Her thought were intruded by Clover’s voice, a tiny smile forming on her little maw. As her back legs came loose, she slowly and carefully pulled each leg from the bush, placing them silently on the ground. She couldn’t help but glance back at herself, the fur along her body sticking out and riddled with fallen thorns. She did feel tiny prickles of where she had been poked and hadn’t noticed, but even now they were hardly noteworthy. With this, those calm eyes looked up to meet her mother’s gaze.

“I’ve heard others say scars build character. I’m told I have plenty, but more would never hurt.” Granted, those tiny pricks were barely even enough to leave a scrape, much less scars. But it was still a worthy thought. Her gaze turned then to the large plant, its spiky extensions sticking every which way. “I can say that a lonely spirit wanted to keep me for company, but was bad at showing hospitaly.” (Hospitality)

Where had she heard that word from again? Had she said it right? Hospi...hospi something. Something taly. Whatever it was, she had heard others say it when showing someone else manners, or giving them a nest, or something along those lines.

Her little eyes returned to Clovermask once more, blinking a few times. She acknowledged the fact that her mother had mentioned talking about why she wasn’t in camp. But...Clover had come out here for something thought provoking, right? What about this was that? No, there were far more interesting topics.

“Mother, did you want to become Nightclan’s Deputy before you became it?”

It was hard to tell whether or not she had purposefully avoided Clover’s statement, or if she just had not heard, or if she just had to get her thoughts out first. Her voice sounded the same as it did any other time, which didn’t suggest any trickery. But still.

620 & Katara

[Katara]

[googlefont=Playfair Display] [googlefont=Roboto] [googlefont=Kumar One]

if i was born as a blackthorn tree
i'd wanna be held by you, felled by you
fuel the

PYRE OF YOUR
enemies

clover

clovermask.

NIGHTCLAN DEPUTY // 57 MOONS

A

musement rippled through her at Dogkit's remarks. It impressed her everyday how intelligent and individualistic her kits were becoming. Who had told her scars built character? Probably Bluecloud to help make her feel better about collecting them in the future, so she wouldn't feel ashamed of them. She sincerely doubted Dogkit would ever feel ashamed of any scars she bore now or in the future. "Others will tell you that many things build character, but they usually mean they want you to have a better attitude about those things. Whether its collecting scars, or prying ticks off the elders."

A lonely spirit? This wasn't the first time Dogkit had said something odd, even for a kit, but it had never put off her mother. It was just part of what made her so special, aside from being hers. "Spirits are lonely by virtue of being spirits. Almost - it's hospitality," she corrected her, as she began to nose her daughter's pelt to check for any areas of swelling or bleeding. She couldn't see anything, but perhaps she should take her to Shadowchaser just in case. It couldn't hurt, and the NightClan medicine cat hadn't shooed her away from his den yet.

"As I was saying..." she went on, intending to return to her attempt to scold the bengal kit, but Dogkit had a question of her own. "It's rude to interrupt others," she said sharply, though she wasn't going to entirely ignore her question either. "Yes, I did want to become deputy - but most cats do. But unlike others, I was willing to put in the work." And I needed something else to focus on, she added silently to herself. The moons of turmoil after her friendship with Shrikesong had broken had been a period of time Clovermask hadn't cared to remember. But they had helped her find something else to pour all her energy into.

She just wished - not for the first time - that Darkstar was much older than her, instead of being the same age as her, or that she had lost many of her lives already. Nobody knew how many lives the tortoiseshell leader had lost, as it was a secret she kept from her entire Clan. She thought this was foolish, though at the same time she couldn't think of a reason why she'd want NightClan to know the amount of lives she had left, if she were in Darkstar's position. She just didn't want to wait a lifetime before she could ascend to leadership.

For a moment, she allowed herself to imagine Darkstar's life would reach its end very soon, maybe even in just a few moons. What would she do? "Dogkit, listen to me very carefully," she said, fixing her daughter with a serious look. "While I am still deputy, I need you to stay in camp when you are told to do so. I don't care if you're a kit, an apprentice, or a warrior. But," she went on, her voice growing lofty as she thought of this imagined near future, "when I am Clan leader, you will be allowed to wander where you like, whenever you like. I promise."

[attr="class","cltag"]tagged Abyss

[attr="class","clnotes"]notes <3

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