pafp A QUICK DEATH IN TEXAS ↺ race

[MOORBLOSSOM]

In the context of reading the stars, Moorkit isn't nearly as good as her mother. They freckle the night sky and anoint the moors in their magnificence, and if they're observed from the right angle, one can read the messages hidden in them. All sorts of messages, too. Prophecies, what the weather will be like tomorrow, jokes and riddles...

Anywho, Moorkit is pretty certain the stars just told her that she'll lead WindClan next, and she doesn't quite know how to react.

Lips rolled up into a thrilled grin, the girl jerks her head back into the nursery. Her green gaze skims over the silhouettes of littermates and friends alike, some of whom were already asleep. Curled up a little further away from everyone else is her oldest brother's form; she cannot tell if he stirs, given how only the back of his noggin is visible, so Moorkit chooses him as the first to hear the good news.

White-capped paws knead into Adderkit's hide as if it were their mother's swollen belly. "C'mon!" she cries, pushing harder. "StarClan says I own WindClan next!" Right then, she falters in her massaging and halts up. Would he really believe her? Or, mayhaps a worser idea, would he even care? "Uh, we have tuh race for it," musters the she-kit on the spur of the moment. "If I win, you can still be my deputy. C'mon!"

With that, Moorkit skidaddles out of the nursery's gorse walls and into the moon-lit camp. It matters little how late in the night it is; there's no way her brother will pass up such a glorious opportunity.



// @Adderkit ​

 

[Addervenom]

Life doesn't discriminate

He was preparing to settle in for the night as tabby stripes twist and bend, shuffling into a comfortable sleeping position. A low sigh signifies relaxation as his tail tucks further, drifting now. That is until ivory paws press into his side, kneading flesh to stir him back to reality. Smoldering amber eyes shift to his sister, ears perking at her ramblings over...something. Starclan said what? A frown decorates his maw, head lifting from his own paws now to face her completely. He was still kind of groggy after being pulled out of his sleep so suddenly. "Why would they tell you something like that and not mom?" Or perhaps by proxy, Vulturemask. Either way, his personal musings over the situation fumble as she offers a challenge and at this he cannot refuse.

His tail unfurls slowly, a smirk gathering upon his lips as he steadily stands to his paws. "Alright." Adder gives a testing stretch of his limbs, tail lashing behind him as he finds they're still sore from a long day of roughhousing. It caused an uncomfortable pull, but he hoped it wouldn't effect his performance too much. "You start the count down." He murmurs over his shoulder, bowing the front half of his body down, getting into sprinting position. ​

Between the sinners and the saints​

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[TIGERFROST]

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Night had fallen and the stars sparkled high above their heads. Tigerfrost noses for scraps in what remains of the fresh-kill pile, finding a scrawny mole that one of the tunnelers had brought in earlier that day. It's stiff with cold and death, but it was better than nothing. The chimera did not eat until the kits had been fed, but this late at night, every cat had likely had their fill for the day. He settles down onto his belly to chew at the rodent, though a rustling at the mouth of the nursery draws his flaming eyes. Two kits, Moorkit and Adderkit, tumbling out into the clearing with apparent excitement. What were they up to, Tigerfrost wondered. Showered by the moon, the dusty hued tabby observes, slowly devouring his cold meal nearby.​

 

[WINDSTRIDER]

Windstrider felt restless, unable to return to their nest for the night. After Dandy's escape and the following fights, they found it hard to sleep with the possibility there was someone waiting out there, to avenge the injured warriors gone rogue. Their eyes scanned camp, and thus the cycle happened: a movement, a flinch, then the welling of anger and streamline of degrading remarks aimed inwards. On one of these cycles, they were especially upset at themself when they realized it was just their sister and brother.

They picked themself up and settled next to Tigerfrost. Avoiding any sign of glancing at his meal, for to look upon it with any need in their eyes would betray weakness. Whiskers twitching, Windstrider watched their siblings prepare to race. A part of them not yet a warrior was excited to see who won, who would become leader of Windclan. They'd always been told they'd be destined for greatness as a kit, and no doubt about it, their mother was probably saying the same things to her smaller spawn. "They're so funny," they said to the tabby warrior, amusement laced in their voice.​

 

[MOORBLOSSOM]

Moorkit's toothy smile grows all the more buoyant when her brother accepts the challenge. Oh, this is going to be so cool! She hasn't played outside in the dark before; hopefully, StarClan will see how quick she is on her paws!

Her tail would lash out impatiently as she awaited Adderkit to assume the proper racing postion. The girl's posture would mimick his own when he does, with a bend of her back into a sloped orientation, and her paws sinking into the grains below. Green eyes, narrowed and showing undying resolve, zero in on the finish line. "Last one to the other side is a rotten egg, okay?" dares her high-toned voice, which was undaunted by the oodles of snoozing warriors in their path. They're merely obstacles, nothing more.

Moorkit's rump, sticking high into the air, wiggles. Her pupils dilate.

"Three! Two! Uh, one! Go!" And henceforth, the bantam black cat flings herself into a blistering pace. She zooms as fast as her stumpy legs allow, darting in and around the dormant bodies and absolutely stomping on a tail or two. Her entire face is locked in a wince because of how darn fast she's going—forget being a moor runner, she's the best camp runner there ever will be!

The watching figures of Tigerfrost and Windstrider are left in her dust. She dare not glance over the shoulder to check on Adderkit's position. The entirety of her focus is dedicated on the end zone, which creeps closer and closer with every stride. Inklings of glorious victory grow in the back of her mind, but they're promptly shut out by fawn-coloured legs in her peripheral. He's catching up!

In a desperate bid to ultimately establish her claim over WindClan's future, Moorkit leaps with all her might. When she reaches the finish line, it is in a calamitous crash, coupled with a bang, and then a tumble. She smiles through it all, though. Racing is so fun!​

 

[Voidwhisker]

Molewhisker watched the two kits speed by. Look at them! So young and full of energy! Ah, youth. He didn't mind as long as they didn't get hurt. Then he would have to do something other than lay here trying to sleep.

And he was already comfortable!

He remembered when he was a small innocent bundle of fluff with not a care in the world. These kits were spoiled brats, sure. But they were still just kits. Watching them made whatever stress he had dissolve for the moment.

He ignored the bittersweet memories of his kithood and flashed a grin as the race came to a speedy end.

"I see our next leader has been decided!" He said.
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[Addervenom]

Life doesn't discriminate

Adderkit releases a slow steady breath as his sister begins their countdown, muscles locked and loaded, prepared to spring forth at a moments notice. And soon he does. Lurching forward the boy thrusts himself into a sprint, limbs stretching and retracting to perform a good collective stride. His paws churn the ground, kicking up bits of grit and sand as he zips alongside Moorkit. Only once did he become airborne, leaping to hurdle the splayed legs of some snoring warrior laying in his path. Claws dig in, drawing him neck in neck beside the black tabby as they race to the finish. But Moorkit manages to clutch victory by a mere whiskers length ahead of him. An exasperated sigh blasts from his maw, face screwed up with irritation as he slows his stride. "You only won because my legs are still sore from wresting everyone else earlier..." Adderkit declares after Moorkit's glorious crash and tumble. "I bet you won't beat me tomorrow." At this he confidently lifts his chin a little higher. The sting of defeat weighing heavily upon the boy as he takes a seat, said limbs now pounding from overexertion. ​

Between the sinners and the saints​

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[TIGERFROST]

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He twitches an ear in response to Windstrider. Funny, they say. Tigerfrost supposed kits could be quite amusing. He's not so sure when the last time he had laughed had been, though. Molewhisker is nearby, but Tigerfrost's eyes are drawn back to the race. Tiny paws carry both kits onward, spurred by a competitive desire for victory. Moorkit seizes triumph by just a hair, it seems. Adderkit had not been far behind, but that does not quell his apparent disappointment toward the loss. The chimera understands, of course. Second place never felt good in any scenario, no matter the soft-hearted advice queens tried to utter to their kits in that regard. Sometimes loss was necessary. It fueled the motivation required to improve. Perhaps in time, Adderkit would become one of the fastest cats on the moor, unless of course, he ended up in the tunnels. Lost in his thoughts for a moment, Tigerfrost flicks his tail against the cold ground, and goes back to his meal.​