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Puddlekit

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How he has gotten this far is a mystery. The cinnamon kitten is a round, clumsily stumbling orb of fluffy copper and white colored fur. He plods along without fear or hesitation, looking for all the world like he knows where he is going because each stubby-legged stride is taken with the utmost confidence. There are patrols out, there are hunting parties out, through some strange twist of fate and bad (good?) fortune he has alluded both and made his way to the confines of the RiverClan camp itself. Oddly enough no one pays immediate attention to him, it seems the older cats have other things to be concerned with currently and the presence of a kitten in the camp is a good thing because that meant a kitten had not wandered out of camp and into danger.
The tiny furball takes a moment to scope the place out, copper-flecked eyes wide as he pokes and prods his nose through talls reeds and peers into the countless dens in the area. He is not shy and perhaps it is this lack of wariness that leads him to finally notice the freshkill pile. The scent of fish is alluring, his stomach rumbles to remind him he has trekked a long way and has not had a single bite to eat since he set out on his noble exploration. With little pause or ceremony the kitten trots over, his teeth sinking into a trout far too large for him and he begins to noisily and eagerly gnaw on it with all the verocity of a feral animal.

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they had been napping. it wasn't unusual for them after a long day, but the day hadn't been over yet. the sun kisses her fur like a mother to its child, and nearly silent purrs rumbled her throat. it's barley notable with just how muted they are, but all in all, quietpaw is content. that is until they suddenly pick up on an unusual scent. it isn't of riverclan, quietpaw smells that enough to know, but someone else. quickly, they are on their paws, looking around to find a young kit stumbling into camp. the young tom looks around for but a moment before bee-lining to the fresh kill, crunching loudly into a fish, making quietpaw tilt her head... where did this kit come from? and why was he so hungry? tail lashing back and forth, quietpaw slowly made their way over to him, gently moving beside him and speaking very few words.

"would you like more?"

she maybe should have asked where his parents were, but maybe he didn't know. still, he was a kit. barely young enough to tell any scents other than super strong obvious ones, like the scent of a dead fish. that was a scent that anyone with a working nose could pick up on.
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[ WISH YOU WERE GAY ]​
 

GOT A HEAD FULL OF SPIDERS​
It was an odd sight to see. A kit strumbled into camp and then taking something from their fresh kill pile as they began chowing down on the trout which was much too big compared to the little guy and Frostpaw almost laughed at the sight, but she quickly choked down on such thoughts and approached with a gentle hum as she smiled down at the kit. Quietpaw offered more but, Frostpaw's concern was, where were the child's parents? And how did they manage to get passed all their warriors and deep into the clan's territory, especially managing to find the camp.

"How did he manage to get this far into our territory? And is he okay? Maybe I should get Beesong to check on him?" Frostpaw said smoothly as she began to look the kit over, they seemed fine though from where she stood, just...hungry. Perhaps maybe one of the queens would take the little one underneath their wing? Her curled ear twitched wondering who she could ask though... She guess it depends on whatever warrior decides "thats mine now, thank you very much"​
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"speak""Thoughts"[/COLOR]​
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AS FAR AS I'VE HEARD, THE FIGHT'S STILL ON​
Kelpie is proud to say that she's got a good memory when it comes to names and faces. Sure, she's not yet been properly introduced to everyone here yet, what with her own wanderings and the constant comings and going of patrols and the less social cats taking longer to meet, but she's fairly certain she'd remember a ball of golden brown fluff that strolled into camp if it had lived here before. Her own gaze is quietly sparkling in amusement as she strides over, a quiet snort slipping past her lips as she realizes the new kit has drawn the attention of the two apprentices who seem to share similar confusion as herself. "Has good taste in prey though," she jokes light heartedly. She's not real big on this whole territory thing - she's used to plentiful prey enough for all, the only boundaries the ship you're meant to leave on - so she doesn't see any issue with this random child 'stealing' their food. She thinks it's cute, actually, in tat way that makes her mourn her own biology for her inability to have that. "Hey kiddo, you got a name?"

 
quietpaw's head lifted at the scent of frostpaw nearby. tail gently tapping on the ground, a rather uncharacteristically notable frown pushed on their face. usually, quiet's expressions were a worn smile or simply neutral, by a frown? rare. how did frostpaw manage to get one out of her? taking their own tail, they wrapped it gently around the kitten, shaking their head towards frostpaw.

"who cares how he managed?"

her voice is still softened, never truly having any other tone to it. but she was slightly annoyed by the question. why the heck should they care how to kitten got here? quietpaw was no expert by any means, but their sensitive nose picked up no blood which had to mean, for the most part and physically at least, the kit was okay. feeling unusually protective, quietpaw didn't want him out of their sight. and that definitely meant that she didn't want anyone else trying to take him from her. why? she didn't know.

quietpaw has tired of talking now, and she took in a deep breath, looking over at kelpie with a brow raised. basic questions. good. nothing too odd or weird that the kitten probably didn't know the answer to. breathing out the sigh, quietpaw moved to gently clean up the kitten's fur, folded ear twitching occasionally if she had successfully done it.
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[ WISH YOU WERE GAY ]​
 
( ✧ ) as far as robin is concerned, she's the most important kit in the clan. a lead warrior had been the first to find her, and that makes her basically as in charge as he is. if she's being honest, being in charge is exhausting, but someone has to do it- the nursery is a mess of politics and queens who couldn't give less of a shit. she's taken it upon herself to establish order in that lawless land. robinkit might be her name, but in her head, she is robinstar, a leader and a teacher, spreading her mother's teachings across the land. it's a perfect way to honor birdie, in her opinion.

so, when the ruler of the nursery notices this new child whom she has not placed on her census nor given a job to, she feels ashamed. what kind of leader doesn't know each of her subjects by name? she's been here for a quarter moon - she should know everyone by now! internally she shames herself, even as she prepares to go greet this strange child who's gotten past her radar. traipsing up to the group of four, robinkit gives a little head wiggle in an attempt at a respectful nod to the warriors and apprentice. a good leader always respects those who serve her, after all.

now, amber gaze fixed on the mud and ice hued kit, she takes him in. "are you new?" the question is put bluntly, as if she already knows the answer, but she'll give him a moment to respond. "if you are, then where did you come from? also, what kind of fish is that and can i have some?" little whiskers twitching, the dappled girl's mouth runs a mile a minute. "actually never mind you look hungry, i can get my own fish. but i'm robinkit and i am trying to organize the nursery so i need to know your name," turning to quietpaw, the femme who seems the most familiar with the newcomer, she tips her head. "do you know his name?" ​

( PUTTING ROOTS IN MY DREAMLAND )
 

The kitten raises both copper eyes in amusement to the sudden question, another cat is there and then suddenly several cats. They surround him in a circle yet he does not feel any fear or concern, their voices are light and he senses no dissaproval like he would his parents; they are just curious, as was he.
His mouth is full of fish when he first tries to speak, bits of flaky skin going everywhere as he sputters once then snaps his jaws closed to chew thoughtfully. He should swallow this and then talk, he thinks, but immediately takes another bite once his mouth is empty without pause. There is another moment sloppy and noisy chewing before the kitten's shrill voice rises up in answer to the only question that held any real interest to him; an introduction.
"I'm Puddle!" His brown and white mismatched forepaws drop the trout tail he had been clinging to now that his stomach had ceased its rumbling. He settled quite contently into the fold of Quietpaw's tail, letting her neatly groom his fur with amusement knowing he was going to ruin it soon again anyways. His mother had made similar attempts to tame his pelt and failed each time. He wondered how she was doing!
"I'm from the big...big, big, big place!" There is a fumbling as he rises to his paws, extends them out wide in a gesture emphasizing size before he tumbles over off-balance with a laugh. "Me and Mama crossed the water! It was cold but she liked it I think cause she stayed in it after putting me on the ground but I got tired of waiting for her to come back so I went exploring and I found this fish place! Do you only eat fish? I like fish!" He returned Robinkit's multitude of questions with a few of his own, slapping a paw on the partially gnawed on trout as he did for emphasis, "You can have some fish, it's just lying here!"

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AS FAR AS I'VE HEARD, THE FIGHT'S STILL ON​
As 'Puddle' finally speaks, Kelpie blinks. And then blinks again. Well... .that's a lot of trauma to unpack she thinks idly, her gaze softening in sadness. "Well then Puddle, it seems you've found the right place. How about you stay with us until your mom comes back? There's plenty of fish every day and lots of friends to play with," The hole time she talks to him, she can't help but wonder what age is to young to explain to a kit that their parent is likely never coming back. She'd bet her own tail that the poor molly had gotten swept away in the currents.

 
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