[Fawn]

If anyone had told him moons ago how hard life was going to be, Mudkit might've opted not to be born at all, or possibly to be a StarClan cat - so he could watch and not deal with all this stress quite so directly. So he could observe, not feel. He missed Dovesong. He missed the soft, silky texture of her fur and the soothing lilt of her voice, he missed his father's wild stories of battle and hunting, and the fierce gleam of his eyes as he would look upon his children with a father's love. The chocolate-furred tom-kit felt as if he would never get over the sight of his father, normally so strong and with such a fierce hold upon life, heartbroken and defeated as Dovesong -- the center of their world, as they knew it -- slipped away from them. Mudkit's ears flattened. And then there was Galekit, the only she-cat amongst their litter, and the one who had taught him that a cat was never too young to die. To have lost her felt as if he had lost a piece of himself, too. Family tragedy had robbed him of his sense of fun, and he could scarcely be encouraged to play much anymore; the youngest of the five, he had been close with both parents, but Dovesong especially. It wasn't enough to say he was taking her death exceptionally hard, it was more that his world and his sense of stability had been shattered so abruptly. Of little patience now, Mudkit felt a flash of annoyance as something or some-cat bumped into him, the kitten's squarish head turning towards the cause of his agitation, his paws tucked his stocky body and his tail tip twitching.

Tags: Fate Admin, Phoenix, @sparrow
Thoughts/Dialog: 795a3d

[Fate Admin]

Blazekit had been exceptionally angry for the past moon or so. He witnessed his Clanmates falling ill around him and was shut up in the nursery so he couldn’t get near anyone with this apparently terrible sickness. He couldn’t even go out to play, Dovesong hadn’t let him… but then that hadn’t saved Galekit. His sister began coughing one day and Dovesong had taken her immediately to Rookfrost and Snowheart. Only the next day her condition had worsened. He’d overheard Dovesong talking with another queen about it in a hushed voice as she tried to hide from the rest of her litter just how badly Galekit was faring.

That had made him angry.

Galekit was his sister and he wanted to know how she was doing while she was sick. More than that, he wanted to go see her right now. Dovesong became a rare sight as she spent most of her time with Galekit in the medicine den, leaving her remaining healthy four kits to another queen’s care, keeping them carefully holed up in the nursery where they were supposedly safe from the ravages of the sickness without.

That had made him angry.

He wanted his mother. He wanted both she-cats back in the nursery with him or he wanted to go see them right now. No one listened to his demands, swatting him gently back whenever he tried to leave the nursery, to sneak into the medicine den to see the two female members of his family that meant so much to him. Their father visited them in Dovesong’s absence, assuring them their mother and Galekit would be back with them soon with a worried gleam in his eye that told a different story entirely. Then the piercing wail came, a voice he would recognize anywhere. His mother. He tried to find out what had happened but no one would tell him.

That had made him angry.

Then the news filtered in through overheard conversations held just outside the nursery, unaware of the innocent ears starving for information about the family he hadn’t seen in days. Galekit was dead. Blazekit wasn’t sure what that meant, at first. She couldn’t be dead. Old cats died. Warriors died in battle. Kits didn’t die, not in camp, not in the medicine den.

That had made him angry.

Why hadn’t Rookfrost saved her? Didn’t medicine cats have special powers or something? How could she have died under his care? What about Snowheart? Didn’t he help? How could she have died with two medicine cats looking after her? There was a vigil for her and they were allowed out of their den to say goodbye to her as she lay still and cold in the center of their snowy camp. He expected his mother to return to them, now that Galekit was gone, but she didn’t. He managed to sneak out of the nursery and get as far as the entrance to the medicine den before his father had emerged from it to see him and carry him quickly back the nursery. He smelled funny, but underneath it he smelled her, his mother. Windstrike informed him briefly that his mother was sick and the grim look on his face was telling.

That had made him angry.

He had fought then, clawing and biting at the cats that tried to keep him away from her, but he was only a kit and he’d soon exhausted himself. He just wanted to see her, but everyone was doing their best to keep him away.

That had made him angry.

He grew resentful of his Clanmates. He wanted his mother. He wanted to see her, alive. The look on Windstrike’s face when he’d told his son his mother was ill had been resigned… she was going to die. And only two days later she did. Her body was brought to the center of camp, just as Galekit’s had been, and they were ushered from the nursery to say goodbye to her, but only briefly. Sickness still clung to her pelt and the normal vigils were being disrupted in order to get the sickness out of camp. Bodies were not left overnight, only for briefly farewells before they were dragged out of camp never to be seen again.

That made him angry.

He wanted to spend one last night with his mother, curled against her soft fur, but he wasn’t even allowed to do that, dragged hissing and spitting back to the nursery as they tugged her limp body through the snow and away from him forever. Windstrike’s visits stopped after that and Blazekit became almost uncontrollable in his rage. He made it to the medicine den, stood for a few moments in shock at all the sick and dying cats before he’d spotted Windstrike curled up, his breathing irregular and shallow. Then Snowheart had stepped in his way, picked him up and carried him, thrashing, back to the nursery. Soon enough they were saying goodbye to their father as well and Blazekit’s faith in medicine cats shattered.

The epidemic was slowing now… fewer cats were dying… some were even getting better. But it was too late for those he cared for most. Instead he remained in the nursery with his brothers, keeping a careful eye on them for the first sign of coughing. He would not lose anyone else. He would not let anyone take them away from him. He seethed with a scorching anger and lashed out at anyone that came to see them. They could stay out and keep their sickness with them. He couldn’t lose his brothers. Bored though he was, there was no reason to venture from the nursery anymore. Not until the sickness had passed, until their apprentice ceremony came, which it would any day now. Everyone he cared about was right here with him and that’s where he planned for them all to stay.

Today he was exceptionally restless, however, and so he had made himself a moss ball to play with and was rolling around with it when he tumbled into Mudkit. As his brother turned to him he kicked the moss ball away and leapt to his paws, “C’mon! Stop laying there like a useless lump! We’ll be apprentices soon, we gotta practice! What sort of warriors will we be if we just lie around all day?” He glanced at Gustkit, hoping his competitive brother would back him up.

[Phoenix]

WE'RE ALL OK UNTIL THE DAY WE'RE NOT

He was tired. He was tired of jolting awake in the middle of the night, suddenly afraid that he had been left all alone. He was tired of the looks everyone cast in his direction when they thought he couldn’t see. He was tired of the way everyone started to care about him, the way random cats would drop by the nursery to offer condolences or apologize or see how he and his siblings were coping – as if they could help at all or make any difference or change anything. But mostly he was tired of feeling. His heart was tired of aching for what could never be undone, and he was tired of the way it would suddenly all hit him again and again, unforgiving and unmerciful. He could be having a relatively good day – and it was all relative now – and he would glance to the side and see something as insignificant as a rock that would send him spiraling back to the pit out of which he had thought maybe – just maybe – he could have climbed.

And beneath it all, continuous and growing, simmered a quiet hatred. He hated the nursery, the once-refuge that had become their inescapable prison. He hated the well-meaning queens who had become their guards, trying to keep them occupied and distracted as though their sister and their mother and their father were not dying in the medicine cat’s den. He hated the cats who thought they understood, who tried to talk to him as though they were truly capable of understanding. He hated the helplessness. He hated the pain.

But most of all, he loathed Rookfrost for not saving them.

It was the medicine cat’s sole purpose to save cats like his parents and sister. A concoction of those putrid herbs was supposed to heal the sickness that had overwhelmed LightningClan. And it was here that his thoughts could not help but stray down a lane of growing familiarity. It was no secret to him that the steely-eyed tom did not like him and his siblings. If Gustkit had not ventured into Rookfrost’s den all those moons before, would the medicine cat have saved his family then? He told himself that it was an irrational thought, almost like the irrational hatred he held for the medicine cat, because there was no way Snowheart would have let his parents and younger sister join StarClan without fighting as hard as he could. However, the seed had been planted, and, insidious, it had grown until he felt sick just thinking about their foray into the medicine cat’s den.

Green eyes followed the path of the moss ball as it headed toward Mudkit, but their owner made no move to warn his brother of the danger. He had thought that the youngest of their litter was usually better than that at detecting trouble – he would have to be, with Gustkit and Blazekit as his brothers – yet he seemed too lost in thought to notice the impending collision. The brown kitten had taken the loss as hard as any of them, and it showed in his lethargy. He could see changes in all of them. Blazekit had become more aggressive to those outside his family, and Pigeonkit was hardly unaffected either. As for himself? He had always made a practice of hiding his pain, shoving it down deep and burying it beneath layers of trivial matters so that it would not consume him. He feared the loss of another cat dear to him, but the fear manifested itself subtly, shrouded in the way he woke when the rest of his family still slumbered. Emotional and physical exhaustion had drained what little patience he had already had, and it became incredibly easy to snap at others.

And, like his brother, he often found himself restless. He wanted to do something, to get out of the nursery. His inability to sit still and keep himself occupied with nothing but his thoughts had increased tenfold since his mind had turned against him. Irritated and suffering from cabin fever, he rose to his paws as Blazekit accosted Mudkit and kicked the moss ball away. The silver tabby stalked over to the discarded plaything and swatted at it roughly with a paw, watching with some satisfaction as it flew across the nursery and collided with the wall. His irritation subsided slightly with the violent action, and, tail flicking, he turned and padded over to his brothers. Recognizing his brother’s restlessness, he agreed, “Yeah, Blazekit’s right.” And then he stopped and rethought what he had just said, because Blazekit was never right. “For once,” He added after a moment’s hesitation. “Let’s do something. It’s boring laying around here all day, and they won’t make us apprentices if that’s all we ever do. Besides, don’t you get tired of just sitting there, Mudkit? ”

Gustkit | LightningClan | Kit | Audience of One - Rise Against

THE SURFACE SHINES WHILE THE INSIDE ROTS

[Fawn]

The angered words of Blazekit coupled with the chastising tone of Gustkit felt like cold water getting poured into his ears. Mudkit blinked, staring first at Blazekit and then over at the kitten who was a mirror's image of their father - minus the scars, of course. The muddy brown tom felt a sigh escape, short tail tip twitching and flicking at the air as though to swat invisible flies. "I feel tired whether I sit here or not." He muttered. "I don't want to play, you guys can count me out." He didn't want to play at all. Not now. Not ever. Playing was a luxury for kits who had their parents and never had to worry about anything; it was weird, wasn't it? That his siblings were still so concerned with whether or not they'd be made apprentices? I don't care anymore. Being an apprentice wasn't going to make it hurt less. He was inwardly torn apart by indecisiveness, and when he failed to make a decision regarding whether to stay in the nursery or go outside, the indifference would set in and he'd opt to do nothing at all. In some part, being here made him miss Dovesong even more, he missed her so much he would stay awake at night, blinking into the darkness, too caught up in his thoughts and his grief to possibly find sleep an easy thing to achieve. Would leaving the nursery help? He severely doubted it. Bad things always happened when they left the nursery. Of course, bad things happened in the nursery as well. Mudkit felt a sudden spike of anger, his tiny needle claws unsheathing to fasten into the earth. It was as if no matter what they did, no matter what rules they followed, bad things always happened. And it didn't happen to bad cats - it happened to good cats, the best cats. Cats he wasn't sure he wanted to live without. (Not that anyone had asked him, before they'd been taken from him) The stocky tom-kit pounced on the mossball, shredding it in a childish fit of anger-cloaked misery; either one of his siblings would know that he was not prone to destruction, let alone moments where his emotions got the better of him like he did now, but all was not right in Mudkit's world. It wasn't even a whole world anymore. It was a few remnants, and the little mud-colored tom was struggling to accept such devastation.

Tags: Fate Admin, Phoenix
Word Count: 419 Words