private as she sewed (dogbait) she told a story

[HOWLINGSTAR]

// @dogbait

Ever since delivering the young kitten to Berryheart's den, Howlingstar has remained in camp. She sees the young scrap as her responsibility - at least, until he can be properly handed off to the queens. But for now, as leader it's important that she makes sure he is healing well...and to make sure he will acclimate well. It was obvious to everyone on the patrol that 'Dogbait' was terribly frightened. She had never seen a kitten hiss and spit so much! But underneath all that fear, the mother in her knows he's just a kit who needs to be groomed and coddled and protected and loved. Fortunately, she knows just the she-cats to do it (if she could convince him to remain calm).

When he does awaken in his nest, the tabby is lying on the floor of the den, head relaxing on crossed paws. Her eyes remain on the den entrance, waiting for her son to return from herb gathering. She promised she would watch his patient while he was gone. She hears the scrap stir in his nest and she lifts her head, half-lidded eyes blinking gently at him. "Try not to move too much," She coos, sitting up into a crouched position. "You need to rest." ​

 

[oakpaw]

˗ˏˋ dogbait awakes.

he blinks. his eyes are so ... fuzzy. the little thing rolls over in his c —

this isn't his cage.

bristling at the unexpected softness, dogbait is fully alert altogether too quickly, scrambling out — out of the nest, away from — what is he scrambling away from — ? he doesn't know — he needs a place to hide. there is a voice, then. he remembers that voice? whose is it? this can't be good. "try not to move too much." he does not register the words.

cat-scent, that's cat-scent, another cat. dogbait's back hits something (a wall) and he cowers against it, lifting his head only to scream "BAD! GO AWAY! L-LEAVE DOGBAIT ALONE!"

.

---

brown tabby with white. 7 weeks old. how could you love this wretched creature ´ˎ˗ ​

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

He’s up, screaming again and backing himself up against the wall. Her ears fall back and she remains crouched, even ducking her head a bit to seem less threatening. “Shhhh,” She hushes gently, blinking slowly at him. “You’re safe here. No one will hurt you.”

She eases herself slowly up onto a sitting position after a pause, her fluffy tail wrapping itself around her body. She purses her lips and glances outside the medicine den, where one can hear the typical light chatter of their home. “You’re in ThunderClan’s camp. We have a den here called the nursery. It’s filled with kits like you, and queens who have milk. They’d love to meet you, Dogbait.” She turns her attention back to him and tilts her head slightly. “That is, if you’d like to stay.”

She knows he doesn’t understand a single thing that’s happening to him, so she will explain all she can. “If you do stay, you’ll be taken care of. You’ll have a clan who will protect you, and you’ll learn to hunt when you’re old enough. You’ll have kits to play with and cats who love you. But you see, in a clan, we respect each other. We use kind words, not foul names. And we don’t spit and hiss at those trying to help us.” There is amusement glinting in kind eyes. He has much to learn, and she will be happy for ThunderClan to teach him, but he must want it. They can’t exactly keep him here against his will.​