- Feb 8, 2023
- 74
- 39
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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
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
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