- Jan 27, 2023
- 451
- 124
- 43
This day dawns crisp and cool; leaf-fall has teeth today, and Bluefrost can feel it as she hovers near the entrance of the nursery. The breeze combs through the thick mane of silvery fur at her throat, reminding her of the cruel season to come — will her kits be hardy enough to survive it? It is her lot in life now to ensure they will be prepared for their first frosts, their first hungry nights without milk or prey. It is a heavy burden, but it is one she accepts gracefully.
Today is the first step. Her kits' first moon has come and passed without real ceremony. Their little bodies have become sturdier; they are taking steps, now, real ones, around their nest. Their mindless mewls and jabbers have been unveiled to reveal words, consonants. They blink baby blue eyes at her, at their father, and they call them "mother," "dada," whatever they can get their unpracticed little mouths to say.
The night before, during their evening nurse, she had felt the prickle of teeth... and that is how she knows it is time. She presses her muzzle to Thriftfeather's before leaving the nest, murmuring, "Cottonsprig will be here soon with their prey. Will you keep them busy until she gets here?" She leaves without waiting for an answer, because he has never denied her yet — and, frankly, she cannot imagine he will.
She ignores the cries of hunger, of petulance, that begin to crescendo. They desire the milk she stubbornly withholds. You will nurse later, but this morning is special, she thinks with determination. You shall see. When the heather trembles and her sister's soft gray shape approaches on snow-blind paws, Bluefrost announces: "Your aunt is here. It is time." She greets her sister with a friendly blink of her eyes, then ushers her inside.
"Come, little ones. Assemble here. Cottonsprig, Thriftfeather and I have something for you." Her tone is brisk, for if it is not, there is no reason for the kits to obey her. "Sootkit, Foalkit, you will come over here! Asterkit, Rimekit, and Comfreykit, you stay where you are."
As she ushers the kits into their positions, she offers Cottonsprig a slow nod of expectation. "This part is all yours," and it is an allowance, an agreement between them — another promise, kept.
Today is the first step. Her kits' first moon has come and passed without real ceremony. Their little bodies have become sturdier; they are taking steps, now, real ones, around their nest. Their mindless mewls and jabbers have been unveiled to reveal words, consonants. They blink baby blue eyes at her, at their father, and they call them "mother," "dada," whatever they can get their unpracticed little mouths to say.
The night before, during their evening nurse, she had felt the prickle of teeth... and that is how she knows it is time. She presses her muzzle to Thriftfeather's before leaving the nest, murmuring, "Cottonsprig will be here soon with their prey. Will you keep them busy until she gets here?" She leaves without waiting for an answer, because he has never denied her yet — and, frankly, she cannot imagine he will.
She ignores the cries of hunger, of petulance, that begin to crescendo. They desire the milk she stubbornly withholds. You will nurse later, but this morning is special, she thinks with determination. You shall see. When the heather trembles and her sister's soft gray shape approaches on snow-blind paws, Bluefrost announces: "Your aunt is here. It is time." She greets her sister with a friendly blink of her eyes, then ushers her inside.
"Come, little ones. Assemble here. Cottonsprig, Thriftfeather and I have something for you." Her tone is brisk, for if it is not, there is no reason for the kits to obey her. "Sootkit, Foalkit, you will come over here! Asterkit, Rimekit, and Comfreykit, you stay where you are."
As she ushers the kits into their positions, she offers Cottonsprig a slow nod of expectation. "This part is all yours," and it is an allowance, an agreement between them — another promise, kept.
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ooc: please wait for @cottonsprig and at least one of the following: @rimekit @Comfreykit @FOALKIT @Asterkit @sootkit.
also tagging dad @Thriftfeather :) -
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Bluekit.Bluepaw. Bluefrost, she/her w/ feminine terms.
— “speech”, thoughts, attack
— 18 moons old, ages realistically on the 14th.
— mentored by Sootstar ; mentoring Brackenpaw ; previously mentored n/a.
— windclan queen.sootstarxweaselclaw, gen 2.
— penned by Marquette.
lh blue smoke she-cat with white and emerald eyes. aloof, dignified, poised, haughty, composed, distant.