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Post by Svet on Nov 25, 2014 15:56:26 GMT 1
SILVERSTORM
She was laying outside of the nursery. She was not the true mother of the kit she found the other day, but she wanted to make sure that the tom was taken care of. She had named the kit, his name was now Specklekit, and Silverstorm was getting ready to tell Ashstar that she is willing and ready to take all responsibility for this kit. She did not want to see Specklekit harmed, which was why she now rose and walked into the nursery. She walked over to the nest that was made for the little kit and she nudged him gently. Specklekit, it's time to wake up. She poked him once more and she sat there. She purred lightly as she thought that she was now a mother, well, not just yet, she needed the permission from the leader to be able to truly adopt the kit, and Silverstorm was going to do anything to get that right.
Silverstorm poked the tom once more before she got up and walked out of the den. She walked over to the fresh kill pile and she grabbed two small mice. Since there were no Queens just yet, she was teaching the tom how to eat food, and slowly. She had started to teach this and she was trying to make sure that she did not kill the kit. Of course, she tore tiny pieces off of the kill each time just to be sure that the kit didn't take too much. But she soon walked back to the mouth of the nursery and she sat there and waited for her soon to be son.
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AceWoofie
Kit
How is my english? Good, no?
Posts: 16
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Post by AceWoofie on Nov 26, 2014 15:53:42 GMT 1
The kit had been sleeping for a while now. His ordeal, as well as the medicines he was given, had left him extremely tired. He was well now, nice and warm in the nest in the nursery. He felt a nudge and heard the voice of the she-cat, but could not make out what she had said. He started to wake. The more conscious he became, the more the past seemed like a distant bad dream. He felt the second poke, but was not completely awake yet. His eyes were opening, but his vision was blurry. His eyes started to close again when he felt the third poke. That is when he completely woke.
The kit stood up, but was disoriented. He caught a glimpse of the adult cat leaving. Who was that? He could hardly remember. He stretched out instinctively, and then tried to regain balance on his four legs. Once he was completely stable, he looked around to figure out where he was. Trying to remember what had happened was useless, at least, until she returned. The adult cat returned to the nursery, and with her, came his memory. He remembered how this she-cat had found him, and helped him. He was happy to see her again.
She brought some mice with her. Seeing them, his stomach growled, reminding him how hungry he was. She gave him the mice piece by piece. At first pieces he gobbled up the quickly from hunger, but with each new piece he was given, he slowed down, much to the she-cat's approval. When he was finished with what she gave him, the kit went to meet the she-cat. Sitting at her side, he looked up to her. "Thank you str-" he stopped himself there. Looking into her eyes, he remembered her name. He continued: "-Silverstorm".
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Post by Greymuzzles on Nov 29, 2014 20:47:46 GMT 1
Ooc:...Incoming ramble, I'm afraid |:
Bic: Dawn had come and gone, and all the signs left in its wake were pointing to one undeniable fact: it was to be another good day. Newleaf had started on a high and was evidently determined to end on one, too, giving them the benefit of fine weather and excellent hunting—an unexpectedly early prey peak—and in that was all the reason he might need to greet the advancing day with a certain concealed cheer. Even better, his patrol of the borders had turned up nothing that might prove a threat to his authority or his clan, and that was merely the icing on the cake: the last factor needed to ensure his good mood. Oh, there was a certain sobriety to the cats at his back, but that was merely because they did not look at the larger picture as he did – were too concerned with the fates of strangers to see that they had, in truth, escaped the claws of a threat that might have bought them to their knees.
Treeclan did not need more full-grown outsiders.
And it was as well they had him to see it.
But, of course, his worries had proven unfounded, for there had been no sign or scent of the rogues he had half-expected to find – nothing to suggest that unknown clanless cats had ever been on his land at all. The closest they had come to such signals was their rediscovery of the strange kit’s trail, but that was a trail mingled with only one adult scent. The signature of one of their own felines; the very Bird that had bought him into their midst. The rest of the patrol had turned up nothing else that might speak of the missing forms, and indeed even the search he’d sent out upon hearing the news had come up empty, so it was clear enough that the parents, whoever they were, were long gone. He had only the kit itself to deal with, and a kit…well. A kit was no trouble at all, really. If Cherryheart were to be trusted, then the abandoned tom was so young as to have little real understanding of the life he’d been leading before his discovery, and those were memories that would be wiped out soon enough; replaced only with the workings of Treeclan.
He’d seen it before, in a cat far older than their unexpected charge…and he was confident that it would happen again. It was just a shame that he couldn’t yet discern precisely what branch of cat he was dealing with: that the kit was yet too young for Bird of Boar blood to be picked from its tiny frame. Not that it mattered.
A Boar would be preferable, but the outcome was one and the same.
It was a kit, after all, and the laws were perfectly clear where cat’s so young were concerned.
“…Ashstar? What’re we to say—?”
“Nothing at all,” the brownish-grey tabby murmured, careful to regulate his tone to a fittingly sombre form: the shape and sound of one themselves none-too-pleased with their failure to find some trace of the missing parents. His eyes he kept locked on the way ahead, but he knew voice and posture to be enough: trusted that the ‘weight’ would show, and that his followers would see what he wanted them to see. A cat dwelling on the fate of an orphaned kit.
“I will handle the matter myself. It is a delicate situation, after all.”
His answer bought a quiet, rippling shift to the manners of his companions: a change that was all-too-easy for him to detect. They were approving, as he’d known they would be. Relieved that none of them would have to tell the kit that its parents were long gone, and perhaps faintly impressed that he should take that responsibility as readily and unflinchingly as he did. But there was also a sense of other words waiting to be said, and these were words that he was not convinced he wanted to hear – that he could see little reason to encourage into the quiet air. So he silenced them, uttering a grave “hush now. Camp is near, and we don’t want an apprentice catching on before the kit knows. You know how young cats can be.”
It earned a trickle of muted agreements: a silent acknowledgement of how freely and thoughtlessly the younger apprentices could chatter. And with that they fell back into silence, covering the last moments of their homewards journey with nothing but the breeze and chattering of nature to accompany them. Exactly what he wanted. A hush that followed him even after they’d entered camp, and he’d left his little patrol for the nursery that was to be the kit’s new home.
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Post by Svet on Dec 8, 2014 18:34:40 GMT 1
SILVERSTORM
The kit had soon come from the nursery and joined her on eating. She smiled to the little tom before she started toe at her own meal. That was when her ears perked behind her, back to where the patrol had been lead earlier that dawn. Ashstar had heard of the kit's arrival before she could introduce him to the leader. Mousebrained apprentices. She let the thoughts go and she looked down at the tom when he spoke quietly. She purred lightly and she nodded. "You are quiet welcome Specklekit." She wasn't sure what Ashstar was going to say to the kit staying here, or even if his family had been found in the lands. Silverstorm doubted that though since she never got a whiff of the parents that the kit should have.
The she-cat looked over at the entrance of the camp though when the patrol arrived. They were all silent, and this dampened the she-cat's mood. She knew what that silence must have meant, and she was starting to feel sorry for the kit the more the leader walked over to them. When he was to them, she sighed and she dipped her dome down to the tom. "How was the patrol Ashstar?" She knew that she should probably greet him better, but she was anxious to know if there was a trace found of the parents of the kit. But the more she sat and waited, the more she worried. Soon enough, her tail wrapped around the little tom as if to get ready to comfort him.
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AceWoofie
Kit
How is my english? Good, no?
Posts: 16
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Post by AceWoofie on Dec 9, 2014 22:00:19 GMT 1
The sun was bright, and briefly blinded the young kit. His eyes had been used to the dark of the den, but were quickly adapting to the new light. Specklekit glanced around the camp. All around, there were many bigger cats, more than he had ever seen before. He was intimidated, but also struck with awe. He stayed next to the adult she-cat, lowering his head slightly hoping not to have any attention drawn to him from the other cats. They didn't seem to notice him.
He looked up to Silverstorm. She seemed nervous. It was not plainly obvious, but it was just enough for Specklekit to subconsciously detect, even if he did not know what "nervous" was. This made the kit cautious as well. He looked to see what her gaze was on. A large tom was heading towards them, his eyes fixed on them. Now Specklekit was nervous also. The closer he got, the more nervous he became. His nerves got to him, and he went to hide behind Silverstorm. When she greeted him, he poked his head out to see him.
He was absolutely scary. Not only was he bigger and more powerful-looking than Silverstorm, but his disposition was not friendly either. Specklekit was afraid of him. There was doubting this. Not only that, but he did not know what the big tom wanted. He was focused on her, which made him the kit feel a little more at ease. He depended on the she-cat, and knew in his little heart that she would take care of this. The she cat wrapped her tail around him, which surprised him at first, but actually made him feel a little safer in this situation.
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Post by Greymuzzles on Dec 15, 2014 21:29:22 GMT 1
The space between camp entrance and nursery was once soon traversed, despite the measured pace with which he walked. Within a matter of minutes he was drawing to a standstill before the homeless kit and his Bird guardian, allowing his sombre gaze to drift between them—to note the young tom’s shrink from him—even as he flicked his ears in the barest acknowledgement of the she’s dipped head. Had she been a Boar, or a cat the clan held in high esteem—or even had he not the excuse of the kits plight—he might have given more, but as it stood he wouldn’t afford anything greater to one of her kind; refused to offer the leaner, weaker members of his clan any more of his outwards respect than he had to to keep appearances intact.
Still, he doubted she’d take much note of the difference; he had played it this way for seasons, after all.
“…The patrol was uneventful,” he spoke with the self-same care that near always laced his words – turned his gaze back on Silverstorm’s form as this simple answer broke the air. On the surface it was a response concerned only with the patrol itself, just as her question had been, but beneath that simplicity was an undercurrent of hidden meaning that even the dullest would doubtless detect. His words might have been unremarkable, but his tone and his gaze said so much more: betrayed the unusual depth to his sobriety, the fruitless nature of their search, as surely as the she-cats movements revealed the anxiety that she felt.
Ever on the lookout for new information, Ashstar took care to watch the kit from the corner of his eye as he spoke, and was thus near instantly aware when the little tom dared to peak his way. It was an act of faint courage that he took as vaguely promising, depending on how this kit grew, and once he had answered the Bird he was quick to let that blue-eyed stare draw his attention down. It was then that he finally addressed the kit himself, appraising him even as he uttered the necessary, carefully gentle words.
“I’m afraid we have not yet found your parents, kit.” He paused, briefly letting his gaze flash Silverstorm’s way before looking to the tom once more. “We will, of course, continue to search…but no-cat has found scent to match yours.”
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Post by Svet on Apr 20, 2015 18:12:11 GMT 1
SILVERSTORM
The she-cat looked down at Specklekit and she purred a small reassurance to the young tom. She looked at Ashstar though as he walked over and she waited for him to speak. She nodded though when he spoke to her and she sighed lightly. They had been out looking for Specklekit's family, but when she found the kit, there was no sign of any of that either. She worried for the small kit, and she hoped that she could find their family, or maybe, she could just adopt him herself. She was not going to let the kit go without a family, for that wouldn't be apart of the Warrior Code would it?
But that was when Ashstar looked at Specklekit and addressed him. She listened to the leader as he spoke and her heart dropped and she looked at Specklekit and wrapped her tail around him softly. She was going to protect him and she was going to bring that up now. She looked at Ashstar then and she made a small noise before she spoke. "Ashstar, since there has been no sign of his family, I would offer to adopt him and care for him as if he were my own. And his name is Specklekit." She looked down at the kit and she nudged him lightly. She would let him add in his own words as well, but she put out her plan.
There was not going to be any kind of sugar coating what she wanted, and that was to care for the homeless kit and to make sure that he was able to grow up and live with some kind of parental figure, even if it was only a mother figure.
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