camp Chasing Daydreams

Stagkit

Stagkit

The Lost Boy
Nov 21, 2022
18
5
3
REACHING FOR THE SUN​
He's not aware of the drama taking place with the rogues, not aware of the tensions between SkyClan and WindClan, not aware of the harsh and cold months ahead that would leave many with starving bellies. It had been a week since Stagkit had been found, and while he was quiet and reserved, he at least did not appear too badly traumatized by the event. Perhaps it was because he didn't actually know what had happened to his mother. No, he was still waiting, just as he had promised. But these cats were kind, they fed him and nuzzled him, and Stagkit supposed that it was alright if he stayed for awhile. Perhaps in a few moons, he'd hardly remember the event at all. He was such a young thing, after all.

But for now, he is content, idly chasing a brittle leaf that the wind had blown into the clearing. "Mouse!" He chirps lightly into the breeze, as little claws tangle with the remnants of a fading leaf-fall.​
 
Another gift at Skyclan's doorstep... tapping, toddling bicolor. Snow-white curls in a shape so strange; the beginnings of interest, but quickly stamped out by the status of his captor. A witch and her muse, and... forever trapped beneath their collective eye, what more can he expect but complete and utter misguidance? Nearby he lounges, lacking perhaps expected judgment on his features, if only due to the lack of much at all written there. Bemused, his chin rests on his paws; white on white. A leaf, small and brittle (so unlike what he'd given that night, so full and bright—) passes through. A journey for it, surely, crawling past the oaks and into their own sap-ridden floor, only to be swept by Dawnglare's tail and into the grip of the little one. A little one who, frankly, could not even identify it correctly. "You think so?" flatly, he muses. Really, he doesn't care; and to an extent, it is expected.​
 
REACHING FOR THE SUN​
The boy stumbles after the leaf, and as a tail sweeps across the earth to send the object flying into tiny paws, a small sound of triumph bubbles past the child's fangs. He purrs, kneads at the leaf with thorny talons, and then remembers the long tail that had sent the toy into his grasp. Owlish eyes are wide and unblinking as Stagkit freezes in place, stares at Dawnglare with sparkling eyes. This was a cat Stagkit had yet to meet, and he's curious, mystified, and entirely unashamed of his bright-eyed stare.

Then, as if to amuse the other, much larger cat, the bi-color little tom dances in place as if in some invisible battle, clawing and tossing at the leaf. He pauses again, stares at Dawnglare for his reaction, and then darts quickly away, a tiny and rather clumsy little bullet that races across the clearing and back again to tackle the leaf, grasping it between small teeth. But as Stagkit continues to chew at his brittle toy, his owlish vision still rests wide and curious upon the medicine cat.​
 
Butterflypaw passes by, a squirrel dragging by its neck as the girl struggles with the weight of the hefty prey. She's on her way to the nursery - usual chores, to deliver fresh-kill to them - when she spots one of its recipients outside, darting and dashing around brittle leaves. She decides to take a little break and sets down the squirrel, breathing heavily (only slightly) with the effort of pulling it around. She was still scrawny for her age, and stood shorter than most cats in the clan. To her, the squirrel was huge! But her attention was no longer on the fresh-kill; it now rested on Stagkit, the newcomer. Like herself, he had been found and brought into the safety of this camp, of the nursery. Oh, how she missed the nursery.

Her eyes shift to Dawnglare, the tom that the kit keeps glancing at. It's like he's seeing the medicine cat's approval, and it's adorable! A little chuckle escapes her lips before she continues to drag the squirrel into the nursery for the other kits to enjoy. "Stagkit, you should come eat!" She gently calls to him, head ducked low as she does so.​
 

"Aren't they-uh-just so cute at that age? Huh? Don't you think? Hello-hi-I don't think I met you yet when I joined? I'm Pumpkin!" The patchwork molly wandered over to take a seat a careful tail-length away from the medicine cat as she watched Stagkit play, she had not seen many kits in the clan when she joined but she heard some were on the way? Kittens were lovely, she often watched the kits of her parents friends at times back home and their antics were often amusing and delightful; inspiring her own youthful energy with every little prance. It was worrisome having such a young cat when it was getting so cold out and newborns? She hoped everything went alright!

Her mismatched gaze followed the scampering black and white tom as he rolled about and combatted his invisible enemy, folded ears pricking upward slightly as an older but still quite young cat called out to him. She'd never seen a tortiseshell that looked like her before! Those vibrant oranges, the soft white spotting; she looked very much like those beautiful sunset-colored butterflies she often saw in gardens where she came from and after realizing she was staring a little too hard she looked away sharply down to her paws. How rude! She hoped no one saw her do that, she'd need to be more mindful.


​
 
REACHING FOR THE SUN​
Hearing Butterflypaw's vocals, Stagkit finds himself peering toward the nursery. Was he hungry? Maybe. The kitten isn't so sure. Ever since he had arrived in SkyClan, hunger had been a thing of the past. There was always something to eat, it seemed. Idly, the bi-color little tom continues tearing at his brittle leaf toy, until those bright, wide eyes shift to take in Pumpkin. For a moment, Stagkit just stares, and then he smiles, chews at the leaf before tossing it away. He darts in a few tight circles before bolting toward Butterflypaw. He supposed he could eat a little bit of that squirrel. Then, he'd go back to playing with his leaf.

"Mouse!" Stagkit squeaked quietly as he clamped his fangs into squirrel meat.​
 
Butterflypaw lets out a soft laugh as the kit scampers towards her. Mouse! he exclaims, and the girl sits down before gently correcting, "Squirrel, actually." She smiles and watches him eat, wrapping her tail daintily around white-spotted paws. Bringing prey to the kits is always the best part of her day. She just loves their innocence, their enthusiasm, their creativity. They're just so fun, and not to mention adorable! She giggles again and trills, "Don't eat too fast or you'll get a tummy ache." Her eyes lift to see that new cat, Pumpkin, sitting by Dawnglare. Luckily, the medicine cat is nearby in case a tummy ache does occur!​
 
WE'VE BEEN DOIN' ALL THIS LATE NIGHT TALKIN' ✧​
"When'd you have a kid, Dawnglare?" Fireflypaw jokes aloud from a bit of a distance away, trotting over with a grin on his face. Now that he was beginning to grow at such a fast rate, he was starting to notice just how small Dawnglare actually was. His tail twitches in amusement, though the fear of the prophet is still ever present. His eyes spy Pumpkin introducing herself to the new kit; Stagkit, apparently. He gives her a friendly smile in greeting. Then, Butterflypaw speaks up and tells the kit to slow down. Fireflypaw feels a rumble of amusement in his chest. "He's fine, I bet. I used to chug down food just like that, and I turned out alright!" He chirps in response, seating himself next to the molly with a grin. Man, she was so pretty.​
 
He doesn't know what to think, really. No, hasn't a clue when the thing suddenly develops a conscious and stares with wide, bug-eyes. Dawnglare stares straight back, mid-day sky meeting dusk-heavy eyes. Even as he takes to the sky to bat at the thing and dances like there's no tomorrow, indeed, he doesn't quite care. Time and time again, he stares, and time and time again, he meets him with a blink, slow.

A sickly sweet molly (and he remarks that, he didn't find her nearly as irritating today as he did on many others), prods at the boy with the request to eat. Another appears so soon then, to indulge in the spectacle of childish intelligence. Though, he nearly double takes. The look first and foremost is a mere glance. Bored, in the midst of a half-parted yawn, but, then again—

His gaze suddenly sharpens, and then again, it falls flat. A little too much like Daisy, if you asked him. But she wasn't, and as long as that remained true... "We haven't," he answers plainly, and with the confirmation that indeed, Daisy has not multiplied his eyes can rest easy again, drifting back to the cloud-spotted kit and silken-wrapped molly. Was it cute? A snort. "Does the moon sing at night?" The answer to both questions were plainly no.

A paw rubs at his face, only to turn to a slow drag as Blaise's little ones comes along slobbering nonsense. "I- shhh-sh—" the mutterings of a threat all but die on his tongue. For who would he be but a gonner (mentally, anyways) if he were to find Blaise right behind him? Quiet he remains, and a glance over his shoulder provides solice that Blaise wasn't watching him. He chews at his lip. "F-far too soon to tell if that's true..."​
 
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