private blessed by a curse | sootspot

[bramblepaw -]

✦ That Bramblekit would one day be Bramblepaw was no longer some distant eventuality to be ignored from its place on the horizon, but a reality that she would arrive at in a few weeks' time. In some moments, she regarded this wearily, or as wearily as a child could, her gaze jaded by the ache in her joints. Would her bones hurt more when she was an apprentice? She hoped not - some apprentices, like Sheeppaw, had bursts of boundless energy that was surely unimpeded by pain. That could be her. The line of thought, the one that promised her aches would ease, led to her primary opinion of becoming an apprentice: she was excited.

Instead of sharing tongues with Heatherkit, or defending Nightkit from the worst of moss ball, the three of them would learn to spar, to hunt, to tunnel. The tabby kitten was confident, maybe baselessly so, that she would excel at the former, because papa had always promised that she would be a mighty defender, and a part of sparring was probably defending either herself or someone else. Hunting would be good, too, because she liked chasing leaves as they drifted to the floor, and prey was already on the floor, so it couldn't be that hard to catch. Importantly, apprenticehood would give her something to do outside of the nursery.

Tunneling was a daunting prospect, though. What if she got lost? Her papa would find her, of course, but the short span between losing herself and being found would be... short. She didn't want to burden papa with the responsibility of finding her; she should just not get lost. The resolution saw Bramblekit seeking out her father, her gait purposeful and her path true. "Papa?" She asked, more an inquiry than a demand for his attention. "Can you please show me the tunnels?"

// @SOOTSPOT​

 

[SOOTSPOT]

When he had overheard the other queens, they had often declared it impossible to name a 'favourite' child - he'd learned quickly in his tenure as a parent not to trust their judgement. As he had been to his mother for a time and as Cottonsprig had been in the future, one kitten was always favoured above the others, treated as if they were starborn and blessed for glory. Bramblekit had never been that kitten. He loved her, but he saw the way she hadn't grown into her limbs and the way she seemed so much less... cautious than the others and realised she would be a moor-runner, an inevitable distance created by such a decleration. It almost saddened him knowing her potential had been squandered by genetics and yet when she came to him, his smile was easy, his purr as fierce as it would've been had he addressed Heatherkit instead.

"Hello my little Bambam..." He ran his cheek across her forehead and pulled back, eyes expectantly settled upon his daughter. Can you show me the tunnels? A dangerous place for a kitten, or so the non-Tunneling leader had declared. A lifetime ago, his little ones would've already been roaming the narrow pathways, learning to navigate that which they couldn't see. This was a curiosity he saw no reason to punish. "Of course. One must know the insides and out of their territory should they truly wish to understand it." The tunnels would no doubt twist and change as Bramblekit grew too big to enter them, but in that moment, it didn't matter. His heart fluttered with excitement at the chance to bond with his kitten over a shared interest and to show off his knowledge, though he knew his happiness came at a price.

He watched the horizon, looking for any who may be keen to keep an eye on him. If there was one thing he could thank Thriftfeather for, at least, it was taking eyes away from him. When he was certain no one was eavesdropping, he leaned closer to Bramblekit. "If we go exploring, promise you will not tell anyone, ok?" Kittens were not supposed to leave camp, after all. "Heatherkit and Nightkit may get... jealous. And we wouldn't want that, would we?"

​

 

[bramblepaw -]

✦ Promptly, as though following some cue, a smile bloomed across her face at Sootspot's affection. It was not unfamiliar; he loved his children fiercely, standing between them and the entire clan when necessary, and that displayed his love clearly. The dark tabby, however, was accustomed to letting her siblings absorb the more personal moments of love, Heatherkit sitting at their father's paws, Nightkit studying under his tutelage. But this brush against her forehead, this nickname, little BamBam, were hers and hers alone in the moment. She savoured it, golden eyes closing in a pleased blink, and was almost reluctant to refocus on her task. But there was no sense wasting Sootspot's time on affection that would always be spare for Bramblekit.

And she was right - there was always affection for her! "Thank you! I really, truly, super wish to understand it." Papa - Sootspot - was going to show her the tunnels, just like she had asked. Whatever trepidation might have filled her at the idea of going below ground was quickly pushed aside by the giddy excitement of getting what she wanted. Was this what her siblings felt when Bramblekit lost a game of mossball? Or what papa felt when any of them did as they were asked? She could not possibly know, but she hoped. She hoped they all felt this way at their apprentice ceremony and when they entered the tunnels for the first time, officially.

The giddiness shrunk back when Sootspot looked away, but he looked back before the child could contemplate the ache. She cast it out of her mind as he leaned down to her, a conspirator, a giggle already bubbling in her chest. Her first real secret! "I promise, papa," Bramblekit said, already imaging her sibling's reactions to the dank earth in her pelt and the words whispered in their ears. But - oh! She can't tell them, either? She thought they told each other everything. It wouldn't - it would not - be the first time she was wrong. The giggles stopped, and she nodded, solemn. "No," and she meant it even more than her promise. "No, it will be a proper secret so they don't get jealous."

It was exciting to have something that was just hers, though.

She tipped onto her tippytoes, straining closer to the Queen to whisper, "When do we go?"​