Little things (and little cats!) are important too (OPEN)

Something popped Flickerkit on the head. She mewed softly, complaining. Five more minutes, Mama. She was exploring. She- WAIT! Was it-? COULD IT BE-?!?!?!

Baby-blue eyes snapped open and Flickerkit's hungry maw swiveled around faster than an adder's strike to latch onto the item offered. After a moment, she realized it was furry, and warm, and not at all what she wanted. She spat out the thing and looked hopefully upward at the blurry shape next to her. It was a strange color she was learning belonged to Ternkit and The-Cat-Who-Was-Not-Ternkit. Considering this cat had woken her and tricked her, she was highly suspecting it was Ternkit, but this cat smelled different so it was probably The-Cat-Who-Was-Not-Ternkit. She had a hard time being sure but that was not her main focus at the moment. She let out a sharp, demanding mew and punctuated it with her second favorite word in the whole world. (The first favorite was 'Mama').

"Milk?" she squeaked hopefully.

Oh great. Now she had done it. Every other semi-conscious ball of fur within 3 taillengths began to perk up and start up the cry. Flickerkit, who had seen The-Cat-Who-Was-Not-Ternkit first, and thereby claimed dibs (even if she was not old enough to know that word yet), stepped on the closest rock to get closer to the retreating paw that might-possibly-maybe give her Milk. This rock was warm and fuzzy and wiggled, meaning it was likely to be one of her siblings' heads, but Flickerkit had more important things to think about right now.

"Milk!" she mewed, demanding to be heard over the others. "Milk! Milk!"


"Milk!"

Two twin brown heads popped up out of the moss in Feather's nest at lightning speed.

"Milk? / Milk?" two voices mewed in unison.

The two young kits scrabbled awkwardly out of the high edge to their nest. They would never have made it out alone. Feather had taken careful care to make the nest edge tall enough that no kit their age could wander out -but the blasted brothers simply had one climb on top of the other to escape, then pulled the second one free. When the twins wanted something, it was almost impossible to stop them and generally not worth the massive effort.

The two scraggly, half-blind creatures ran toward where they thought the cry had sounded from, across The Big Open to The Big Nest where loads of other kits lived, mewing the whole way so as not to be forgotten.

"Milk? Milk? Milk! Milk!"

They clambered on top of a big, furry, red rock that howled in protest. The twins knew this sound. They often made this sound happen when they crawled on this rock. It talked, and claimed to be a kit, like they were, but it was always in one of two places (The Big Nest or The Swan Nest) and never seemed to move. The twins always moved. They did not fully believe that this rock was the same as them, but the Swansike said that was bad to say. The Swansike was not to be angered and so the twins kept quiet about this particular belief.

"Rosekit / Rosekit," they demanded in unison, stepping on the rock and chasing it when it actually did try to move away a bit. "Milk! / Milk!"


The large white queen lumbered into the Nursery with two mice in her jaws. The kits were asleep and- Nope! The kits were awake. The kits were definitely awake. Having left for only a few moments, the quiet Nursery had already transformed into a place of chaos. Sharp blue eyes cut to Mistlekit who was standing incriminatingly close to Starlingfur's kits, with paws raised and primed to stomp on the queen to wake her. Quailkit and Quiverkit were standing directly over a very distressed Rosekit. The youngest kits were wake, wailing, and hungry. The queens would wake soon too. 

The day had just begun, -and Swanstrike would not have it any other way.

"Mistlekit, what do you think you are doing? How would you like someone to wake you up when you are sleepy?" the queen mewed sharply, but her eyes took any hurt right out of the tone. They were light and sparkling, nothing like the scary dullness that had been there half a moon ago.

She dropped the mice next to her nest and reached over to nimbly scoop Rosekit out of the way of danger. Most kits you merely grabbed by the scruff, but Rosekit was a special case with his rended shoulder and Swanstrike took more care with him than any other kit. She would never admit it to anyone, even the other queens, but Rosekit was her favorite. He was such a gentle tom and she enjoyed being close to him the most. She thought of him as her son in her most secret heart, and wondered if her real son would have grown up into such a wonderful kit. Given his parentage... probably not.

She settled the soft red kit on her back, right between her shoulderblades. The massive shecat had never truly appreciated her size, but lately they had discovered Rosekit could easily ride up high without being jostled or pained in the slightest due to her large size. The kit could explore, in a way, feel the wind on his fur, and Swanstrike was happy to give him that freedom. Rosekit was, quite likely, the kit who had actually explored the camp the most due to this privileged perch. He had been to the Fresh Kill Pile to help her get mice, the Warrior's Den to visit Hollowfern, seen what the Apprentice's Den looked like from the inside, and even (for a brief moment) passed through the bushes that marked the camp entrance to peek at the outside world one time when Swanstrike had been asked to speak with one of the guards and oh-so-conveniently 'forgotten' he was there.

"And you mean 'in-fin-ites-imal', Mistlekit," she corrected, following this up quickly with praise as she went back to her mice. "But that is a very good word. They are very tiny. Do you want to help me feed them?"

Swanstrike was not particularly good with words. She was not the smartest cat in the bush and she knew it, but she made extra effort to know more about whatever things her kits were interested in. It was why she could give an in-depth explanation of how clouds formed, tell a cat exactly how many days it took for a daisy, poppy, or heather to grow flowers, and many other tiny tidbits of isolated knowledge she had picked up to please her charges as a Warden. She was not smart, but a good memory came in handy at times.

She settled down in her nest, being sure to keep her shoulder's level for Rosekit. She pawed half of a mouse over to Mistlekit so she could help then quickly and efficiently tore the creatures into small scraps, absently offering Rosekit the best pieces to snack on as all good cooks tended to do when their children were close. 

"Kits, kits, stop that racket now," she chided gently. "Over here is your milk. Come now. Over here."

A swarm of furry, hungry bodies launched themselves in the queen's direction. For most cats the sheer number would have been terrifying. For Swanstrike, it was simply breakfast. She gave each kit that stumbled, pounced, or tumbled forward a scrap of mouse.

Flickerkit chomped into her strip, spat it out -it was not milk- then decided she was hungry enough to endure the mouse bit she had been given and proceeded to softly chew the piece, even finding she enjoyed how the soft fur pieces soothed her hurting jaw. She was one of the kits that took to solid food naturally when teething kicked in, sinking her budding, baby teeth into anything and everything with a harmless curiosity. In a week or so Swanstrike would start lecturing her that she could not bite everything within reach all of the time, but for now she was too young to understand and needed the stimulation to ease tiny teeth cutting into her gums. All fairly normal and easy to take care of.

"MILK! / MILK!"

Now if only all kits were so simple, but then, where would the fun in rearing them be if that happened? Warm blue eyes fell to the twins with a laugh as she saw them glaring up at her, or vaguely in her direction as their sight was not too good yet, and demanding the milk they had been promised. They knew they had been tricked and were not standing for it.

"Eat your mouse, and you can have milk afterwards if you are still hungry," Swanstrike mewed softly but firmly. She might be sweet, but she was no push over when it came to kits. While she loved to give kits things, always giving them what they wanted would only make them spoiled.

"MILK! MILK! MILK!" the two squealed angrily.

"Quiet please." Feather really should be more stern with these two. They were turning into quite the pawful, but the queen was young and just wanted to make her kits happy. Swanstrike found no fault in this, but that did not mean they would get away with temper tantrums when she was around.

"MILK MILK MILK MILK MILK MIL-"

The angry chant broke off into a squeak as both toms were snatched by the scruff and plopped back into their nest. Baby-blue eyes blinked in confusion at, what seemed to them, to have been a sudden teleportation. They forgot what they had been upset about as they were forced to renavigate how to get out of their nest. They likely had not even been hungry in the first place, merely following the promise of free food. They scrabbled toward escape, then found a highly entertaining piece of leaf to chase.  

"Quailkit, Quiverkit, do you want a new toy?"

She even had to ask?! Even more enticing than the cry of milk, the two twins scampered over at warp speed and happily bit into the scrap of mouse offered them, tugging back and forth with unbridled glee as they mewed squeaky growls at one another. Then they realized their new 'toy' tasted good and felt good to chew. The play fighting calmed as they settled down to teethe.

Swanstrike put a paw to her lips and winked at Mistlekit with a sly smile. The queen had given them the exact same piece of mouse the two toms had wanted nothing to do with just a moment ago, but that would be their secret.

The shecat purred contentedly, happiness swathed around her like a sweet fog. It felt so good to be with kits again. It felt so good to be who she was. Mistlekit's question made her swallow a laugh as she took on a Very Serious expression and looked at the ceiling, clearly deep in thought.

"Hmmmmm. You know," she mewed finally, "I don't quite remember. It has completely slipped my mind but," Swanstrike looked back to the young kit. "I remember Rosekit was just a smidgen taller than you, Mistlekit, and I also remember Rosekit was just as tall as the red lichen that hangs on the side of Starlingfur's Special Den. Why don't we go see it and measure how much you've grown ourselves?" Swanstrike smiled down at Mistlekit then turned her head around to look back at the soft red tom cuddled into her thick fur. "What do you think, Rosekit? Do you think we should go see?"

"I go!"

Swanstrike chuckled as a small brown head popped up, small fluffy ears primed and blue eyes shining with eagerness. Flickerkit was too young for much of her personality to have formed, but already Swanstrike knew she would have trouble on her hands once the shecat got walking and running all sorted out. Unlike the twins, who were mischief makers, the young brown shecat was already showing signs of her own brand of trouble: She had an explorer's heart, and that meant she would be prone to wandering off if not kept on a tight leash.

"No, no, Flickerkit. Don't you want to stay here with your brothers and the twins?"

"No! I wanna see!"

Swanstrike considered her options. She could handle the kits all at once, most were too small to really wander and Mistlekit and Rosekit were well behaved, but she did not want to have Starlingfur wake up and fall into a panic. Feather was sleeping like a log -poor dear, the twins were exhausting her- so there was little worry of her waking any time soon.

She looked to Quail and Quiver (who were being suspiciously quiet) and realized Quiverkit was having another one of his 'moments'. The young kit was just a little bit off in the head, poor thing. He had just fallen over next to the mouse and was staring off into nothing. Not asleep, but not awake, at least not 'awake' as the queen knew it. Quailkit was settled down next to his brother though, patiently waiting for when he would come back to his senses. Poor Dears. Still, they would clearly not being going anywhere. Sometimes Quiverkit's staring could last for hours. Swanstrike had to commend his brother though. Quailkit never left his twin's side, no matter how long he had to wait.

That made two less kits to handle, but that still left the issue of Starlingfur...

"Alright, this is what we'll do." Her blue eyes looked down seriously at the two woken kits, Flickerkit and Hawkkit. "If you two can convince Mistlekit," she motioned the white shecat with her paw, "quietly, to wake up Starlingfur to ask her if you two can come," this time her eyes flicked to Mistlekit, "and she does it considerately, with a soft voice, you both can come."

It would be a good lesson. The kits needed to learn that sometimes you could not just beg to get what you wanted, you had to work for it. It would also reaffirm to Mistlekit that she should be mindful of other's feelings, especially when attempting to wake tired, sleeping queens.

"But," Swanstrike mewed quickly, her voice firm, "You must all do it quietly or no one will be going." Dun. Dun. Dunnnnnnnnnnn!


The shecat's baby blue eyes went wide at the big Swansike's words. She looked to her brother, Hawkkit and bit her lip. Quiet was so hard though! She tentatively stepped toward the Cat-Who-Was-Not-Ternkit (who the Swansike called Mistlekit, but Flickerkit was young enough that she would forget this again by the time the conversation was over). 

"Mistlekit?" she asked in her loudest, most quietest whisper. "Will you go ask Starlingpurr-"

"Starlingfur," the Swansike corrected, also in a whisper.

"-Starlingfur if we two can come? I promise to share my mouse with you if you do!" Flickerkit held up her soggy, half-gnawed mouse piece in what was clearly a great sacrifice. She looked over to Hawkkit. He was helping too, right? She did not know who this 'Starlingfur' was, but she hoped Mistlekit was a good convincer-er.


Quailkit settled down to gnaw on his mouse. It felt nice. He kept one eye on Quiverkit. His brother was off in the stars again. Maybe he would be back soon this time. Maybe he wouldn't. Quailkit did not mind stars, but he wished they would not steal his brother so much. The Swansike was all about 'sharing' though. Quailkit did not like sharing, unless it was with Quiverkit, but that did not mean he liked sharing Quiverkit. Quiverkit was Quailkit's and Quailkit was Quiverkit's. That is just the way it is.

When Quiverkit went away, Quailkit felt... bad. The young tom did not know the words 'alone' or 'loneliness' yet, but he knew what they felt like every time Quiverkit stopped being Quiverkit in order to stare off into the stars. Quailkit did not like it. It made his fur feel tight and his tail heavy. He wished his brother would stop it. He wished the stars would cut out being so distracting. Quailkit ignored them all the time! Why couldn't Quiverkit? And yet he couldn't. And he let himself get taken away. And Quailkit was left behind to feel the 'bad' feeling until his brother remembered how to come back. He did not like the 'bad' feeling. He did not like it at all.

Quailkit felt Quiverkit twiched beside him. His tiny ears prickled for a moment, but it was just a false alarm. Quiverkit's large blue eyes were still staring blanking at the wall. The tiny brown kit licked his brother's shoulder to smooth the fur and went back to gnawing. Yes. The mouse felt nice. It was going to be hard to remember not to eat it all before Quiverkit came back.