development FOLLOW THROUGH [✦] kits first prey

[Starlingheart]

TW: Throwing up is mentioned in the fifth paragraph

Her kits, up until recently, had only ever tasted milk. They were two moons of age now, however. It was time that they tasted real prey, real blood, felt bones crack between their teeth. But just taking prey from the pile did not feel right. Up until now she had provided for them, it would feel wrong to not provide this too, this first meal. The thought of hunting though, the thought of killing, it sends a shiver along her spine and makes her head reel. It makes her feel nauseous. She remembers the first thing she had ever killed, also the last. Ever since she was young her whole life had been dedicated to healing, to saving lives. To take felt like a perversion of everything she had stood for. But others took. They took all the time and they didn't even bat an eye.

She needed to set an example for her kits, she had decided. Besides, it was prey. If she knew anything it was that she could not rely on any one cat forever. She loved Granitepelt, loved all of her clanmates, but what if one day, stars forbid, something happened to one of them and she needed to fend for herself? Needed to feed herself or her kits or even defend them? She would take care of the latter at a different time but right now, she knows what she has to do.

She has to be strong.

That morning, while the kits were still sleeping and Granitepelt had already left for his patrol, she had slipped out of the medicine cats den, popping her head into the nursery and asking one of the queens if they could just listen for the sounds of her kits waking, and then she had made her way out of the camp and into the forest to do what she had, a couple of moons ago, never imagined herself doing again. She was going to take the life of another creature.

Her victim is a squirrel, over-plump from the bounties of new-leaf and then green-leaf. She watches it through guarded green eyes as it goes about its life, foraging around the base of a tree for nuts and seeds. For a second, she shuts her eyes tight and sends a silent prayer to StarClan, asking for forgiveness and permission in equal measure. They more than likely did not mind nor care if she took prey from the forest to sustain herself, her kits, she knows this. But still, it brought her a small comfort. Then, before she can second guess or over think she launches herself at the thing, claws outstretched. When she delivers the killing blow she does not celebrate, she does not revel in her catch. For a moment she stands there panting over the bloody mess and then she turns and looses the contents of her stomach.

When that is over she returns to the kill, the squirrel, and she grabs hold of it, making her journey back to camp with the creature clutched in her jaws and a determined gleam in her eyes.

-- -- -- --

Back at the camp, her kits had not woken yet. She breathes a sigh of relief and leaves the squirrel at the mouth of her den then, she goes in. Within, there are three bodies, each sleeping peacefully in their nest. She lets out a shaky breath, her legs feeling shaky from her ordeal, and then she makes her way to them, lowering her nose to nudge each gently in turn. "Wake up my loves, I have something for you" she says, if any were to complain about being hungry and wanting milk she would pretend she had not heard, instead, when they had all stirred and were blinking the sleepiness out of their eyes she would turn and head to the entrance of the den, motioning with a snow tipped tail for them to follow.

The squirrel lays there, head bent at an odd angle. Starlingheart tries her best not to think too much about how she had done that, lest her kits see her hesitance. "This morning wh-while you slept I got you- I got you this" she tells them, her adoring eyes resting on each of them in turn. "One-one day, you will catch your own prey, but for now why don't we just try some?" she says and though she still feels sick at the thought that she had taken this life, she leans down and she takes a bite of the squirrel, a demonstration for the kits. After that she pushes the prey in the direction of her three children, green eyes resting on them expectantly as she patiently waits for them to try a bite and while she does she sends a silent prayer of thanks to StarClan for not only giving her the strength to do what must be done but also for providing the meal which they were about to eat.

// @FLINTKIT @NETTLEKIT @GHOSTKIT please wait for these three to post!

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[GHOSTMASK]

†—— she sleeps light, she always has; unbeknownst to her, she always will. maybe it's sleeping in the medicine den where there might be odd interruptions, maybe it's having two siblings who tend to be on the pushier side, or maybe it's just an innate thing. either way, ghostkit is a light sleeper by nature; the gentle press of her mother's dark nose awakens her in an instant, wide dark eyes fixed on some distant point before she gets a handle on her sleepy mind. pawing at her eyes with one black paw, instantly uncomfortable, ghostkit is quick to wriggle from the bodies of her brothers, suddenly all too hot and oily and gross. regardless of how her brothers handle their sudden waking, the monochrome she-kit trails after her mother's beckoning tail.

it's a furry thing, one of the things she sees warriors sharing around camp and patrols carrying in like a ceremony; its small head rolls loosely on its neck, bent all wrong. it makes the den smell hot, like meat, like closed fetid spaces, and ghostkit doesn't like it. regardless of who she grows up to be, she's not one for bloodlust; she wrinkles her small muzzle at the warm unpleasant flesh-smell rolling off the thing in waves, assailing her sensitive kitten nose. her mother takes a bite of it though, doting green eyes settled expectantly on ghostkit; and, well, she's supposed to love her mama, right? and her mama got it for her. she doesn't want her mother to be mad at her, doesn't like it, but the sight of the squirrel makes her belly wriggle like a lizard.

she doesn't wanna do it. if this was anyone else looking at her with expectations in their eyes, ghostkit would shove the squirrel away and run, but ..... it's her mama. her mother who cats like, and who's important, and might leave and put ghostkit in the nursery (she shudders at the thought) if she makes a fuss. so, with her face scrunched up in displeasure, ghostkit leans forward and takes a small bite. she pauses as she chews it, careful not to spill prey juices over her white chin, considering. ghostkit licks her lips to make them clean—it smelled bad, but it tasted okay enough. she chirps, hoping to please starlingheart, "i like it, mama."

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┏━•†˚୨୧⋆ OOC ꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷ INFORMATION ⋆୨୧˚†•━━━━━┓ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ♡ ༘*.ﾟ

• ooc: ——
  

• 

• † ghostkit — named after the deceased ghostpaw she/her ; afab cisgender female — shadowclan — kit — 2 ☾s —— ghostkit is the daughter of the soft-spoken medicine cat starlingheart and her possessive mate, granitepelt. she looks just like her mother, and while she can be a little difficult, there's nothing really wrong with her ...... right? —— smells like milk, herbs, and .... iron? ; sounds like tbd ; speech in #EB80B7 ; thoughts in #253DC6 —— peaceful / healing powerplay permitted ; attacks/contact in underline ; won’t start fights ; will flee ; will show mercy ; won't kill or maim (kitten) —— too young for romance ; open to enemies, "friends", tormenting other kits, plotting ; not open to battles, romance penned by dejavu— desklamp9 on discord for plots

• shhh don't look here (battle info will go here at some point)

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[NETTLEPAW ♡]

He knew not the sickened wingbeat of his mother's stomach after what she'd done for them- knew not her trepidation, or her silvery prayer to the stars. As clear-sky eyes batted open, he was faced only with familiar scent and familiar eyes, with thick blood peppering his consciousness. Immediately, his expression darkened in slightly-confused thoughtfulness, a yawn splaying his jaws for a moment. His mouth was tacky, dry- uncomfortable, and he was quick to wriggle after Ghostkit, pulling himself to snowy paws. Through drowsy blear he watched her take a bite- chew, swallow. His nose wrinkled slightly, but it was not clear disgust...

Ghostkit was braver, though, it seemed. Before he and Flintkit even stepped forward, she was there- following the lead, mimicry of technique- and approval, not blood, spilled from her jaws. "Nice one, Ghostkit," Nettlekit hummed, a cheery congratulation for his sister- the nice thing to do. Anything was impressive when it was a new sight, after all.

His cloud-hued head stretched forward then, maw parting to intake a chunk of the squirrel's flesh. Chew, swallow- just like Starlingheart had done, just like Ghostkit had done. It couldn't be too hard- and it wasn't, he found, as needle-sharp milk teeth got used to the tough sensation. Low to the ground, his tail flicked in approval when he finished, glancing over his shoulder for a moment at Flintkit. Soon, sky-eyes found his mother again- and inquiry fled from him, as it so often did. "How did you catch this?" ​

penned by pin ♡​

 

[FLINTWISH]

Sunlight stalks through the cool den and pries open Flintkit's eyelids. He is tempted to close them again when Starlingheart's silhouette casts shade on him once again, but the molly eases her kittens out of their groggy stupor with gentle words and gentler touches. At first, the usual strong and earthy scent of the herbs stocked in their den covers up the foreign copper at the mouth of it. But it takes mere moments for Flintkit to identify it, and to identify it as something... different. And then he is beckoned towards it, and so he follows, hardly one to question his own mother.

Ghostkit is the first to step forward, and Flintkit's ears twitch; there is some sort of feeling that this evokes in him, that his sister beats him to this new experience, but he bites his tongue. He does not share Nettlekit's cheer when the white-masked girl dives into the squirrel and resurfaces red as holly. It should have been Flintkit that was brave first, after all. Nettlekit beats him too, though, and when sky-blue eyes find Flintkit's face, the young boy's diamond-tipped gaze bores into the squirrel with a resentment of sorts. How can he just stand back like this and let his siblings have all of the glory of being brave? Flintkit is brave, too.

And so he steps forward at his mother's behest. She softens his rocky scowl; her mourning dove coos dull his edges as saltwater dulls stray stony spires. She had gotten him this squirrel, and so he would try it for her sake. Flintkit appraises the prey, the way its head bends out of the shape he has been taught, the way its fur gives way to flesh gives way to bone. It twists his stomach. But if Nettlekit likes it, if Ghostkit likes it, he needs to like it too.

Flintkit's stalactite teeth latch onto a particularly red chunk of meat; it takes effort to rend it free of the rest of the body, but once liberated it is chewed easily and with deliberate consideration. The iron taste overwhelms his senses at first, but with each chew Flintkit becomes used to the blood, and beneath it there lies other flavors, too: something nutty, something lean, something delicate and integral to the life that he would soon be leading. Cranberry red washes his white muzzle. He does not bother to lap up the stray blood when he swallows his bite, and instead looks to Starlingheart, as if to say I've done it. I've done it, so praise me.

"It's good," Flintkit decides, then settles to listen to the story of her catch.

/ sorry for the wait on this!!​

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[Starlingheart]

Her disgust with herself, an emotion stemming from her own actions, is quickly washed away in the tide of love she feels for her kits. She can see Ghostkit's hesitance, all of there hesitance adn she understands. New things were scary, especially for the young. She still remembers the first time she had tried prey. She had begged and begged and begged for her mother not to make her eat it, had even cried when she had seen the creature laying before her, dead. She had always been weak in that way she supposes. Her kits were strong, like their father. They all take a bite, they all tell her its good and despite it all she finds herself smiling. A soft and warm expression settling onto her features.

'How did you catch this?' Nettlekit asks and she feels those sky-blue eyes bore into her. Always the one asking questions he was. While some other cats may find his endless wonders annoying, Starlingheart was actually quite fond of it. She liked that he wondered about the world around him, liked that he wanted to know more. In this case, however, she hesitates, searching for the words. After only a brief pause though she says "I killed it with a-uh-a qui-quick buh-bite. N-no living thing... No living thing deserves to-to suffer" she hopes her children remember such an important lesson for when they start hunting their own prey.

When they have all finished she stands and presses her nose to each of their heads in turn. "I am so-so proud of you all" she says quietly, taking a moment to groom the blood off of each of their faces in turn. "Try-trying new things can be- can be scary but you all- you all did it." she hopes she sounds encouraging, that they will keep eating but "If you- if you guys want more you can- you can have more but if not- you are free to go- go play if you'd like" whatever they chose she would be content to sit back and watch over them.

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[lilacfur]

The arrival of her nieces and nephews had confronted Lilacfur with a discomfort she hadn't wanted to uncover just yet. After Pitchstar's final burial, Starlingheart had drifted further and further away. Often hidden in the shadowy confines of the medicine den or behind a wall of gray fur and venomous eyes. The arrival of kittens had been the most she had ever seen Starlingheart out and around camp without Granitepelt. The moment his absence increased, the warrior pounced on chance, not knowing when she would get it again.

Lilacfur had enjoyed her sisters return, though it felt awkward sometimes. Sometimes, it felt like Granitepelt was still standing between them when he wasn't there. Part of her wondered, given when her mate had become so distant, if she would be plucked away again the moment the three were apprentices. In a den with those their age, too big for all of them to stay together in here. Like pesky flies she flicked the thoughts away with a swish of her tail and approached the maw of the cave.

"Sounds like it's going well in here." The rosette purred as she entered the den. "It'll taste better when you catch it yourself."​

[ sad hello's and mad high low's ]​