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What’s out there?
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Cricketkit’s little rumbling purrs deepened somewhat when her brother pressed back against her. That purr only broke off when Coldstar began to speak once more, pulling the ticked torbie’s attention back to him. A frown of disappointment lit her face, however, when her questions went utterly ignored. That wasn’t fair! The small kitten was about to voice her protest when the older tom told them that Stormeye learned a valuable lesson and if they listened, they would too. Cricketkit wasn’t sure that she wanted the story to be about learning. Couldn’t stories just be fun? Her frown deepened and the little kit looked deeply unsatisfied, her gaze now wandering as she seemed to only half listen.

The chocolate torbie sighed and patted at a pebble for a moment, her eyes flicking to the ball of moss that they had been playing with early. What was she supposed to learn from this story? And why was she supposed to learn? Cricketkit looked up at the large tom who was telling the story. “But why wespect food?” she mewled indignantly. “If can hunt, it feeds us, why show wespect?” The little kitten was growing tired from the long day and was beginning to feel irritable that she couldn’t see the point of the story nor just enjoy it. Before she could say anything more, a yawn widened her jaws, showing her tiny milk teeth.

Roly poly, topsy turvey, bumble paws

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Beetlekit listened hard, even as Cricketkit's attention began to drift. His blue eyes stayed fixed on Coldstar, wide and reflective as he tried to imagine each scene...after every triumph there seemed a silence that followed.

His paws kneaded slowly at the dirt as Cricketkit asked again about respect. He glanced at his sister, noticing the way her energy had dulled around the edges and reached lazily for the moss ball, catching it in his tiny claws where he just seemed to knead the green.

His tail stub twitched once. "Mama say...ev'thin cost sumtin..." He didn't fully understand it, the balance of it all, but if prey was left in such a mess, and that mess could be seen - No doubt she'd get in trouble.

He just hoped they woudln't get in trouble for being out so long...

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I identify as a threat. My pronouns are Try/Me.

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Rather than admonish Cricketkit for her lack of attention, Coldstar chose instead to purr and skip the story ahead a little bit - to at least get to the exciting part. 

"Stormeye padded her way towards the plains but something was off - she felt eyes on her watching the way she snaked through the tall grass. Watching the way she paused to clean her whiskers. Tracking her.

A creature lunged from the underbrush, and made to bite the back of her throat. Stormeye turned and swiped at the creature - her hiss taking up her entire chest. The beast that made to kill her was unfazed, stalking her on paws that look the same as ours, if as large as river stones. It's muscles, hidden under dense, spotted fur bunched with unused violence and it stared her down with yellow, slit eyes. Like that of an adder. Like that of a cat. 

The two stood a fox length away before the Beast straightened, and unexpectedly, spoke. 'Little prey, you are smarter than the same of your kind from the Unfurred Keepers dens. It's a pity you were born in that little form. You have the spirit of a Keen One.'

Stormeye protested. 'I am not prey! I am a warrior, a cat from the clans! We clean ourselves like you do! Our kits are protected in dark dens for their safety - we bask in the sun, and decorate our nests with soft things! Just like you!'

The Looming figure was did not flinch. "You are describing the way of the world. The actions of all beasts under the sun. Why do you think that grants you special mercy?" It straightened. "Your kills are impressive. But that doesn't change the way that you are. You are prey - to me, and to others.' It's muscles tensed as it made to leap again - the tuft's on it's ears twitching in indignation.

Now run, little cat of the clans. For you are nothing but a hunt to me.'

What’s out there?
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Cricketkit watched as her brother hooked the mossball and started kneading it rather than toss it. She sighed, waiting to get her answer and rolled her eyes at Beetlekit’s comment. She had no clue what that meant and she doubted he did either. Besides, what did that have to do with respecting prey? Food didn’t have lives to even respect. It was just there for them to catch and eat at their leisure. Right?

Once more the little torbie had her question go unacknowledged and now she was finding herself angry. As the tom continued the story, the little she-kit debated simply storming off and finding Bloomfire in order to have her admonish him for ignoring her important questions. It was more the uncertainty of whether Bloomfire would actually support her or tell her off for leaving the nursery that kept Cricketkit seated. Pouting, the chocolate torbie only half listened as she stared at the mossball, feeling wretched. She hated not knowing things. It made her feel stupid and she didn’t like feeling stupid.

For the tom’s part, the story did appear to get more interesting and as Cricketkit’s attention was drawn back in, she felt herself tensing, fearing for Stormeye’s safety. The Riverclan kit crouched down fearfully as the beast was described and couldn’t help but let out a wordless mewl of fear. Shivering, Cricketkit moved to press against her brother, staring wide-eyed at the tom-cat telling the story. Why had this story become scary? Was it because she had been too demanding? Another shiver ran through the ticked torbie and she silently decided to stop asking questions and find another way to discover the answers if it meant no more scariness.

As the tom reached another natural pause, Cricketkit hunkered further down, silent this time. She glanced over her shoulder and around the camp, her eyes wide with fright as though she expected the mighty beast to appear at any moment. It seemed to the young she-kit that the moral here was not to annoy or anger those who were in charge. The concept of cats truly being prey to other creatures too was completely beyond her young imagination and as such, she took the moral thus far, to mean to not go against your superiors’ demands or you would be hunted by a beast.

Roly poly, topsy turvey, bumble paws

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Beetlekit's kneading slowed as the story darkened. At first he'd been half lost in the rhythm of the moss beneath his paws but when Coldstar described the creature in the grass his claws forgot about the moss and the back of his ears flattened.

It was like he could see it in the grass beyond. Eyes like an adder watching and waiting for them to make the wrong move. He echoed her mewl and leaned against her, yet the force didn't match her own and he toppled onto his back. His stub tail tucked tight against his haunches.

"…S'big..." He whispered as he stared up into the sky, waggling his paws with a shiver. He didn't expect something would be hunting Stormeye as if the beast might step out from the shadows any moment. The world suddenly felt a lot wider than the nursery...

Scruffy belly exposed, Beetlekit didn't move - didn't risk it. Maybe the beast wouldn't gobble him up if he looked as pathetic as he thought he looked.

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I identify as a threat. My pronouns are Try/Me.

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Coldstar kept his amusement at the kit's reaction to himself as he continued. "Stormeye did as she was told. She turned tail and ran; bounding through the fields of Riverclan, every nerve on fire. She could hear the beast behind her - suprisingly  quiet for a cat of it's size.

She couldn't outrun it. She couldn't fight it.... what could she do?

A moment from her apprenticeship came to mind; a rabbit, darting from her claws, throwing dirt in her eyes, and vanishing into a warren - so small she could barely fit her head in. If she was truely prey... then she should act like it.

Darting erratically, she took cover under a fallen branch, breaking line of sight with the Beast, before tearing off in the opposite direction - gaining precious seconds while it momentarily lost her trail.

But the Beast did not waver.

She scrabbled through dry clay, kicking up clouds of sand with her hind legs - leaving her pursuer blinking dust out of it's eyes.

But still, the Beast did not waver.

As her energy started to fail her she spotted something in the distance, a patch of the territory that she didn't often frequent. There, in the center of a sandy,  hollow stood a tree. Or was it two? Yes - two young willows twined together. Their roots were dug deep despite their age and rabbits liked to den in the space left behind. She of all cats knew this.

If she could just make it... she could use their burrows for safety. If she could make it."

What’s out there?
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Cricketkit yelped as her brother toppled backwards and after a quick glance that told her he was still alive, her gaze was drawn back to searching for the threat the tom had described. The little kit tried to follow her brother’s gaze when he stared up into the sky, fearing that he saw the monster but she settled somewhat when she saw no sign of it. In fact, there seemed to be no sign at all of the monster anywhere and the little chocolate torbie settled more quietly as she decided that she was safe for now. Maybe the monster would appear if she misbehaved like Stormeye had by defying her deputy’s orders, but if she, Cricketkit, obeyed the higher ranking cats of her clan then maybe she would stay safe.

The little Riverclan kit’s eyes widened as the tom continued the story. Her attention became completely on him as he described Stormeye’s flight and intelligence as she tried to lose the monster that was chasing her. “Did she make it?” Cricketkit mewled in a quiet voice, afraid of angering the tom and being chased by the monster as a result. Yet, she couldn’t suppress her curiosity. She had been asking questions as soon as she knew how to. It annoyed her mother no end and she had been scolded more than once for being nosy, but it was how she had learned so far. Her earlier resolution to never ask questions had already dissolved, but she still intended to listen more than speak. To watch and learn where she could.

Roly poly, topsy turvey, bumble paws

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If Stormeye couldn't run...couldn't fight? How would she get away? He peered from over his chest fluff, scruffy exterior shaking with a mixture of anxiety and excitement as wide eyes took in more of his sire's story.

Her chin grew slack, staring up at the much larger tom before wiggling onto his side. If there was a chance at not becoming that beast's snack, he had better get on all four of his paws, fast! He tucked his head closer towards his sister, almost jabbing it under her stomach but his paws wavered even as all four were now tucked under him.

All he kept wondering was if she was going to make it or not...Relief wouldn't come to him until then.

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I identify as a threat. My pronouns are Try/Me.

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Coldstar considered Cricketkit’s question, before continuing. “Yes, but –" He didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence before his attention was caught by sudden movement from the nursery, both his ears flicking towards the sound.

He’d gotten too carried away in the story, and forgotten to keep an ear out for the fiery queen of Riverclan, it would seem. 

There was a split second where he considered fleeing, leaving the rabbit burrow and Bloomfire’s wrath behind. But he steeled himself. He was leader – ordained by Starclan. He had final say on most matters with nine lives to back him up. If he wanted to tell the kits of the clan a story, that is exactly what he would do. Regardless of her feelings on the matter. Regardless of whether they were his kits.

Still. He stood and planted his feet overtop of Beetlekit and Cricketkit; shielding them from their dame’s wrath. At the very least he hoped they wouldn’t feel like she was shouting at them as much as him.

What’s out there?
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Cricketkit glanced at her brother briefly as she sensed him moving and noticed that he had shifted back onto his paws. Some instinctual part of the she-kit caused a sense of relief knowing that his belly was no longer exposed, but she paid little mind to these thoughts and feelings as the her question was answered. Relief flooded the chocolate torbie at the reply, her ears perking up. That relief didn’t last long as the word ‘but’ was added and then the tom stopped speaking.

The young she-kit’s gaze widened as the tom moved to stand over her and her brother, her attention drawn to whatever it was that the tom was looking at. Fear flooded Cricketkit as she noticed her dam gazing calmly around the camp clearing, a distinctly furious look on her face. Remembering that she and Beetlekit hadn’t been given express permission to leave the nursery, the little kit wilted in fear and guilt and she pressed herself against the ground before steeling herself. Cricketkit gulped loudly and sat up, shifting to half shield her brother. Whatever happened, she would make sure she took the bulk of Bloomfire’s ire. She was the one who had encouraged the play beyond the nursery walls, after all.

Hah! You think you can outdo me?
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Bloomfire opened her eyes in the quiet of the nursery. Too quiet. It took her hardly a moment to realise that her two kits were not beside her like they were told to be. Being a mother had turned out to be more work than the queen had expected, although she certainly enjoyed being waited upon by the rest of the clan. It was a life she could almost get used to, but for the whinging complaints from tiny voices. Despite the annoyance, concern still filtered into the ruddy queen’s heart over the fact that Cricketkit and Beetlekit were not where they were told to be.

Where most queens might have gone into a full-blown panic, Bloomfire did not. She knew her kits were hardly a moon old and thus could not have gone too far without getting hungry or tired. What was more, there was a whole clan beyond the nursery walls who would watch over those two due to their father being the clan leader. She had hardly been quiet on that fact, knowing that such a relation would improve her position in the clan. As such, Bloomfire simply sat up and listened carefully. It didn’t take long for her to pick up the mewling voices of her kits and the tones of Coldstar. Her maternal instincts told her that her kits were in distress, but logic reminded her that they were safe enough.

A cold displeasure wrapped the queen’s heart. Regardless of what had happened out there, her kits ought to have been returned to her side or she at least informed of why they weren’t. Since no one had come by, she figured that neither must be hurt and she decided that a severe scolding would remind them to behave rather than wander about like mindless ducklings. Standing, Bloomfire strode toward the nursery exit and slipped out of it. Once in camp, her gaze sharpened and the frown on her muzzle deepened as she casually looked around the camp. Her gaze further narrowed as she saw Coldstar standing protectively over their kits who certainly looked to be healthy enough.

Bloomfire’s frown twisted into more angry than displeased and something dangerous flashed in the queen’s eyes. How dare he act like her own kits had to be protected from her. What was more, she still hadn’t gained what she had been promised. Even so, the formidable queen didn’t speak just yet, but simply marched up to the offending tom until she was almost nose-to-nose with him. “So is this how it will be?” she meowed with cold calm. “You have me bear you a litter then decide that I am too unfit to care for them properly?” Bloomfire arched an eye at Coldstar. She had much else to say regarding other things, but there would be time to address those offenses later. Right now, she needed him and the kits to understand that she was in charge here. After glaring at Coldstar for a moment, she ducked her head to glare at the kits. “Come out from under there and get your tails to the nursery,” she snarled before returning her glare onto Coldstar.

Roly poly, topsy turvey, bumble paws

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Beetlekit's eyes were glued on Coldstar but the moment Bloomfire's voice sliced through the air his whole body seized up. His tiny ears flattened against the shape of his head, disappearing into the black fluff of fur there. Whatever confidence he had mustered up was gone in an instant and shrank where he stood from behind Coldstar's paws and his sister's frame.

Mama!

As her shadow descended over him his little breath came out in quick bursts, not daring to peek at her. He knew the look she was giving him and he didn't even need to look! When she barked her command, Beetlekit moved quick to placate her.

He darted forward his large paws moving too fast for his small body to keep up. He only made it three steps before his front paw caught awkwardly against the warren floor. With a little cry, he tumbled forward, both chin and chest catching the dirt. Small claws tried to find traction against the ground, and after a few agonizingly long moments of wrestling with his paws he managed to find his footing again.

Shaken, he hurried toward the nursery entrance without looking back desperate to be where he was supposed to be.

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I identify as a threat. My pronouns are Try/Me.

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Coldstar bristled at her tone. "If I recall. It was you who asked me, Bloomfire. And I am clan leader - unless you forgot." He knew this was a bid for power, for control over him. But he wasn't giving her the time of place on that matter. Or perhaps she wanted another reminder of her sharp tongue and insolence. "I am allowed to speak to any of my clanmembers as I wish. That includes queens and kits."

Seeing Beetlekit flee with such terror made him narrow his eyes at her. Still. He was not allowed to veto Bloomfire's command for the kits to get into the nursery. "Cricketkit." He gently scooped her up with a free paw, and addressed her rather than her mother. "Let Beetlekit know that we can continue the story later." He did want to finish the tale but clearly, that would have to wait. 

"And." He turned to return to his den, before shooting a pointed comment at her over his shoulder. "As far as I know, most dame's don't have their kits running in terror." It wasn't quite a threat, but more of a cautionary warning. Kits were to be protected. It didn't matter who from.

Roly poly, topsy turvey, bumble paws

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Darkness. Warmth. This was where he was supposed to be. A part of him reeled at what happened to Stormeyes and wanted to know if she had prevailed, but the other was pleased with not knowing for now. Not when mama was watching and surely ready to give him a cuff for disobeying her.

His dark form had disappeared deep into the warren, back to his nest where he curled up into a little ball with his nose to the stub of his tail. Tightly coiled and waiting for his sister.

What’s out there?
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Cricketkit winced at the look on her mother’s face and cowered down as she steadily approached. There was going to be a severe talking to tonight, she just knew. Still, she hesitated to move when Bloomfire snarled and told her and Beetlekit to return to the nursery. The little torbie didn’t want to leave where she was, she had been having fun and wanted to hear the last of the story. The young she-kit’s ears drooped sadly. She knew she would have to go.

The speed at which Beetlekit moved surprised Cricketkit. While she had been hesitant, he had moved around her and raced toward the nursery. The chocolate torbie took a step after him when the young tom fell, but he swiftly regained his paws and once more she hesitated. Beetlekit was fine and safely returning to the nursery, but still Cricketkit hesitated. SHe knew from prior experience that she was only making her mother more furious at her by not immediately obeying, but she didn’t want to leave and the little adventure had bolstered her spirit. A part of the young she-kit wanted to say no, but she was genuinely terrified of what would happen if she did.

Cricketkit’s ears perked up a little as she heard her name meowed gently. It was the last thing she had expected in this moment. Usually her disobedience was met with hisses and growls. When she was lifted softly, she squeaked in alarm but relaxed when she realised it was the tom. Given the interaction between the two adult cats, the little torbie had begun to realise that she had been talking and playing with her father. He had never introduced himself when they had begun their game and story, but Bloomfire had often told her and Beetlekit that their father was the clan leader. Something that was often used in scoldings about how they needed to behave more properly, clean themselves, speak better and it went on.

The tiny she-kit nodded to Coldstar, her ears perking up further at the idea of continuing the story. Maybe another story would be told too! Cricketkit wasn’t sure how her father would convince Bloomfire to let her and Beetlekit visit him again. Her mother seemed absolutely furious about their having been out already. But he was the leader of the clan, so surely there would be another opportunity in the future. Once her paws were properly on the ground again, Cricketkit raced toward the nursery, stumbling and tripping, her tail stuck straight up, excited to tell Beetlekit that there would be more stories from their awesome father who was kinder than their mother.

Hah! You think you can outdo me?
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“Yes, I asked,” the ruddy queen meowed smoothly. “Every great leader needs a legacy and I willingly offered that opportunity to you.” Bloomfire paused, her eyes narrowing dangerously. “But clan leader or not, you have no right to decide that you know what is best for my kits. I am their dam, I had to carry them in my body, losing my fitness and sleek appearance. A sacrifice I was willing to make, but now I find myself being showed less respect.”

Bloomfire was fuming. Nothing was going according to plan in bearing these kits. Coldstar was supposed to see how worthy she was and show her greater respect by making her a senior warrior as soon as she returned to her duties, but discussion of that had not happened and it was clear that she was actually being disrespected for her sacrifice. The queen held back a growl of frustration and rage. She could sass Coldstar until Starclan rose once more to walk with the living, but she had to play things smart, and outright attacking or growling at the tom wouldn’t help her situation.

“Speak with, yes. But these kits aren’t even a moon old and they ought to be in the nursery with me, their dam, where they are warm, safe and able to feed.” Bloomfire purposefully stressed the word safe to ensure that the thickheaded Coldstar would hear it. “Even Nettleplume will tell you that.” The queen added that line to bolster her argument. Whether the clan’s medicine cat would truly agree, she didn’t know, but given that she had been told to keep the kits warm, safe and fed when they were born, she figured it was a reasonable assumption to believe he would agree now.

As Beetlekit fled back to the nursery, Bloomfire swished her tail in approval and then frowned as she noticed his sister not following. Cricketkit was beginning to prove somewhat unruly and it irked her. Silently, the queen told herself to make a point of really scolding the kit when they were in the nursery. Maybe she would even make Cricketkit go to sleep hungry or away from her for a little while. She couldn’t risk being accused of negligence in their care, but a proper punishment for disobedience was up to her as long as she didn’t actually harm the kit.

Rage glittered in Bloomfire’s eyes as Coldstar made a point to ignore her and address Cricketkit. The queen’s ruddy pelt fluffed up as anger swelled in her heart, but she chose not to speak. Not yet. Her anger only grew as she saw her daughter brighten up at Coldstar’s words and then make her way back to the nursery in excitement rather than obedience. “Terror?” she snarled, turning her fiery green gaze back on the clan leader. “Beetlekit was running in obedience, not terror! And Cricketkit should have obeyed too. I will teach her to behave, and I will remind them both that they aren’t supposed to go wandering about. That is how kits get lost and killed, especially with this rogue that you let harass our clan. You should have thought about their safety and health. If you want to tell them some dumb story, then organise to see them in the nursery.”