devil, devil | lost kitten | I defy thee

[Magpiepaw]

Filth and decay, decay and filth, he bathed in it on the daily and wallowed in the worst of two-leg kind. The incessant yowling had stopped, the cries of countless cats but an echo in the distance and when he opened his eyes wide it was to a world unknown. The little black lump of a kitten lifted his head from the trash beneath it, the piles upon piles of waste and carrion that was both familiar and quite unlike what he lived in before. The squalor was the same, the location not. He had only closed his eyes for a moment to drift into abyssmal sleep and now he was outside the bent and twisted cage and in something much bigger and more open. Slender black legs pushed him upward and with the coordination of newborn he stumbled forward from his throne of garbage and tumbled head over toe onto grass for the first time. He raised a paw in alarm at it, the strange dull green-matter that tickled his leg and seemed quite soft; on cautious steps he danced upon it briefly before stopping as a sound rustled the nearby foliage around him and his prickly black fur rose up into a puff; making him look like a comical sootball. In this new place he smelled cats, but it was not the same cat smell he was used to, it was not the sickly sweet and dying scent of cats contained and wasting away; it was a wild and unruly smell that made his blue eyes widen into great pools upon his face. Back arched, spine align with tiny spiky tufts of fur, he stumbled back on spindly limbs and waited to see what came out of the darkness next...

​

 

[Starlingheart]

Fortunately for the small black and white pile of fur, what came next from the abyss was Starlingpaw. The she cat, black and white not unlike the kitten that now stands before her, had scented something strange in her quest to find herself a meal. She was the medicine cat apprentice but that didn’t mean she couldn’t hunt for herself every once in a while right? She had, of course followed the scent, blinking in surprise when she comes almost face to face with a kitten, standing atop a pile of garbage. "He-h-hey hey hey th-there" she says softly, swallowing a wave of anxiety. What if this kit clawed her because her stutter startled him? What if he ran and he got hit by a twoleg monster… it would be her fault. She has to close her eyes, take a deep breath, or the what ifs would overwhelm her. "a-are-are y-you-you are you l-lo-looooost?" she asks, hoping that if she speaks quietly it’ll coax him into calming down. "my-my name is-is s-s-staaaar-starliiing-staaaarlingp-p-paw this is -is this is sh-shadow-sh-shadow cl-clan" she inches a little bit closer, trying to get a better sniff, trying to catch any hint of where this kit is from based on smell, if only she could get past the reek of garbage maybe she could determine if he was from one of the neighboring clans. "wha-wh-whats what’s your what’s your n-na-a name?" she asks, voice still as gentle as she can muster past all the trembling in her words.
​

 

[Smallstorm]

LOOK OUT, THEY'RE CLOSING IN ON YOU NOW
WAKE UP, OR YOU'LL WAKE UP SIX FEET DOWN
NOBODY'S GOT YOUR BACK IN THIS TOWN
KNOCK 'EM IN THE TEETH NOW

---

"Huh." came the unimpressed, disapointed reaction of Smallstorm as he came across STarlingpaw and some trash-covered kit he'd never set eyes on before. "Well we definitely can't eat that." he scoffed.

Pitchstar would skin them alive, and it was way too small anyways, a scrap of fur that probably tasted as bad as it smelled. Not that the rats that feasted on these trash piles were any better. Shadowclan had definitely gotten the short end of the stick when it came to everything regarding the clans, a spite that Smallstorm didn't care to hide. While the other clans were enjoying their dry forests and juicy squirrels, rabbits, and fish, his own clan was on the verge of starving as all the snakes and lizards and frogs they normally made meals of took off for the winter, leading the rats as their only option.

Geeze. Was it bad that this wasn't the first time his brain had brought up eating another cat? He would deifnitely probably never do it, but like, talk about weird coincedences.
[/b]
​

---

shadowclan warrior - male -22 months - single - a short, wiry brown tabby with amber eyes

 

[smogstar]

"Have some more enthusiasm, Smallstorm," cracks Smogmaw, the next to emerge from the shadows. He gives the other tom a faux disappointed look as he encroaches on the unfamiliar infant. The same courtesy is not extended to the kit in question, nor towards Starlingpaw, for he spurns the notion of offering this newborn their time or resources. This is not a nursery, it's a clan rife with cats on the verge of starvation. More good would come out of dropping the newborn right onto the fresh-kill pile than anything else.

Still, he bites his tongue before he speaks further. This is a matter for somebody above him to make the call on. ​

 

[Magpiepaw]

If he found her stutter strange he didn't seem to react to it, like a songbird warming up it was a tumble of sound pitched and wavering and he starred at her unblinking and with an intensity that almost seemed to be peering through her rather than at her. The kit's bristling form smoothed back out, or rather, seemed to flatten somewhat as his fur was a prickling mess and his hide unkempt. When Starlingpaw leans forward to sniff him he balances precariously on the tips of his toes to lean back and sniff her in turn; losing his balance on his lanky limbs and stumbling forward slightly. Whatever she was doing, he didn't understand and he didn't garner anything from it either so it was either useless or he was bad at it.

"I'm garbage." He chirped out, "Trassshhh." His warbling voice sang in reply, the words foreign to him but heard often enough to be repeated. The kitten's wide blue eyes moved to the two much bigger cats, pupils slitting even more narrow as he observed them where he now sat in front of the apprentice without much wariness or concern for any possible danger. She was not pushing him or clawing him, not knocking him around like the bigger cats did in the warped cages; too small for that many bodies and he often found himself trampled underfoot. This place was open, a lot of space. Too much space perhaps, but he liked it already.

​

 

[BONERIPPLE]

Frigid frost and aching cold had come. The telling of a cold leafbare that bears down on all of them. Every single one of them were trying to survive now in their small and barren territory of the forest. And she doubted that any of the other clans would care to help them. Mayne Cicadastar would if she went to ask if they minded sharing their territory. Maybe. A soft breath issues forth from her muzzle and she watches the warm breath like a cloud in the sky and she hears a conversation happening. Small chatter that finally pulls her from her troubled thoughts and she emerged from the boggy swamp with cold eyes. A kit and all on its own. Out here in the cold. The fleeting words of garbage and trash make her coldness thaw ever so slightly.

Yet she knows what may happen. They can't afford another mouth to feed, they are struggling as it were but she suddenly sighs. "That is not correct, little kit. You are anything but those things. Come with us and we will get you a warm nest, hm? How does that sound?" She has a son, Fogpaw, she has looked after him since his parents were killed. She can do the same for another child who is all alone.​

 

[CHILLEDSTAR.]

this had to be a joke, right? for fucks sake, they couldn't fucking keep having more kittens here! shadowclan was a damned nursery! they barely had fucking queens and yet... they took a deep breath. this wasn't the kitten's fault. he didn't ask to be here. he didn't purposefully show up to cause troubles or issues... he just had been. and it was their responsibility, as deputy, to make sure that he was safe. they didn't want to even look in the kit's direction, but bonejaw had already become attached to the little thing. fuck. they were screwed. they were so screwed.

"i'll see if i can find a frog or something for it to eat. you got it from here, love?"

chilledgaze asked bonejaw, but they didn't wait for an answer. they were out here to hunt... snd finding a kitten was definitely a damper on their mood.
​

[ NOBODY ELSE MATTERS, GIRL ]​

 

[PITCHSTAR]

whoever up there keeps sending stray kittens to shadowclan's borders is a real fuckin' wise guy. one of which pitchstar would love to wrap unsheathed claws around, it's so funny. his clan is practically nothing but abandoned children and orphaned brats; they don't even have enough queens to look after all of these little bastards. but they keep coming, like an infestation of roaches that shadowclan could not exterminate.

another one shows up, today. this one reeking of the carrionplace that he's obviously called home for most, if not all, of his pathetic short life. so attached to the trash of the place, he believes he's one with the shiny black bags stuffed with twoleg garbage. it makes pitchstar snort as he pads over to his aunt's side, his eyes narrowing in the beginning of a toothy smile that looks more like a sneer. "a good thing we love garbage, then, isn't it?" he laughs at his own joke. "what's your name, kid? or is garbage your name, as well as your species?" stars, he hopes so. it would be funny to have a little garbagekit running around.​

 

[✧ Snailcurl.]

I JUST LOVE YOUR PUPPYDOG EYES ​

snails shell | 30 months | female | she/her | physically easy (heavily pregnant) | mentally medium | attack in bold pink​

---

Appearing with a rat pup clutched tightly in her jaws, snails shell arrives just in time to hear pitchstars words. Glaring at the younger tom she now calls leader, it takes every ounce of self control she has to not snap out a scathing reprimand. She bites her tongue hard enough she thinks she tastes the copper of blood. Green gaze softens as she peers down at the bundle of fur, voice soft and words gentle as she goes to speak, prey set aside for the moment. "Would you like to come with us? You can ride on my back if you'd like - we have warm nests and food," not much, but rats are better than the rotting crowfood they fest upon.

 

[Magpiepaw]

Pitchstar's joke made no sense to him so he only stared with wide eyes at the leader, the question though did make some sense but he didn't have a very good answer for it. "Name?" His voice pitched into an almost squeak, he was unsure of that-because certainly most things had one of those but he wasn't one of them. It was very strange, most the other cats before had just called him 'kit' when they went shoving him out of the way to get to food or pushing him to make room in their tightly packed enclosure. "No." He finally resigned himself to answering, having considered picking one for himself but there were too many words and he didn't like to think that hard if he could help it. "Don't got one."
A curt nod escaped him at that, but the moment food was mentioned his eyes lit up immediately; he did not react to Chilledgaze's use of 'frog' but that was because he wasn't sure what that thing was. Food, however, was a word he recognized he was wobbling forward to stand and move towards the she-cat who had said it with awkward stumbling steps but general enthusiasm. "Food-food-food-food-food-" He prattled on repeatedly, the words clipped and sing-song but with no real sense of rhythm to them.

​

 

[Starlingheart]

Starlingpaw finds her heart breaking for the small trash pile kit. She wants to reach out, wants to lick him behind the ears and tell him not to say such things. He reminds her so painfully of something deep inside of her that it almost hurts. Her eyes soften and she wants to tell him he is not trash but Bonejaw is there and she has already beaten her to it and so she just nods in agreement, sending a half-hearted smile in the kits direction.

She takes a step back as more adults come to the scene. Her brother and his deputy included, as well as Snailcurl, a queen. They mention food and she can feel her belly rumbling at the thought. Leaf bare wasn’t quite here yet but already was the clan feeling the effects of the colder weather, herself included.

The kit says he does not have a name and she frowns. They had to call him something. She shoots her brother a disapproving glance, they would not be calling him garbagekit, not if she could help it. "Wh-what what about uhm uh wh- M-M-M-Maaaaagpie Maaaaaagpiiiiekit?" she asks, round green eyes once again landing on the nameless kit before her. "D-does does th-that does that s-suh-sound good to- uh to you?" she asks him.
​

 

[PITCHSTAR]

no, the kitten squeaks out. the wretched little thing does not have a name. pity, pity. pitchstar grins wider, more laughter pealing from his lips. the perfect name has already came to him, in previous manic thoughts. garbagekit it is, then. wouldn't his clanmates get a hoot out of that one!

starlingpaw intercepts the conversation. pitchstar's smile falls faster than one could blink. magpiekit. his baby sister has suggested the name magpiekit. the leader huffs, much like a child would after being told it is bedtime. that's no fun, is it? "are you sure about that one, starl? garbagekit does have a nice ring to it." pitchstar snorts to himself, his tail swishing. he's really holding onto this poor joke longer than needed.

snailcurl mentions food, and the child- magpiekit?- lights up. he begins to toddle over to the queen, and pitchstar raises a brow. guess that answers the question of who'd watch after the little shit; not that there were many answers to the question, in the first place. shadowclan's pitifully low on queens. "let's head back with little garbagekit, then... before he decides to start gnawing on us, instead." pitchstar tells his warriors, holding onto his chosen name in spite of whatever the kitten thinks of it.​