camp GOOD MORNING WORLD! — first time out of the nursery

[SCORCHSTREAK]

It is midmorning when the calico queen emerges from the nursery’s entrance, surrounded at her paws by four kittens. Only recently weaned, she expects them to be a bit afraid, but they must leave the nursery at some point. Two months old seems the perfect time to give her children free rein over everything within the gorse walls.

She has been allowing clanmates to visit them one at a time, hoping not to overcrowd the nursery or overwhelm her still-fragile litter. Her kits are strong already, she knows this, but she will take no chances. The kits will get to meet as many cats as they can tolerate today, though, and she is excited for more of her clanmates to meet her litter.

Leaning down to speak softly to her children, the she-cat says, "This is the camp of WindClan. Do you see the tall plant walls. You will remain inside of those walls until you become apprentices." Suddenly, she’s reminded of Cottonpaw and Burnetpaw’s wandering into the tunnels when they were far too young for such an adventure. "And you will stay out of any tunnel you come across." Looking upon her kits, she finds it difficult to tell which will become tunnelers. Luckykit certainly will, she thinks; luck will be on her side. Still, she does not need any of them wandering into danger, and especially not without a warrior to watch over them.

"I’m sure your clanmates are all eager to greet you. Go say hello," she encourages her kits, nodding toward one of the cats who’s wandered nearer.
​

[ LIKE A RATTLESNAKE ]​

​

 

[SCORCHSTORM]

TAGS — Quiet and considering, Scorchkit sits at her mother's paws, a funhouse mirror, surveying the world outside of the nursery that she's known for the eternity of her short life. It's almost strange to think that there's a whole world out there, though of course some of her visitors have smelled of it; wind-swept something wild to contrast the honey-sweet, down-heavy scent of milk and motherhood that she's grown accustomed to. It almost makes her anxious. Almost. More than scared, she is curious: curious to see what that windy wilderness is all about; curious to know where the cats that come to meet her go to when they're done. White-tipped ears twitch while her mind races with questions only kits in all their lacking worldliness could ask.

But she listens carefully as Scorchstreak speaks to her and her siblings. For all her curiosity, her obedience is the thing that rules her. Remain inside the walls. Stay out of the tunnels. Go say hello. Simple enough-- she thinks she can handle it. Hopefully her siblings can, too; she doesn't want to herd sheep today (not that she does it consciously in the first place). Before she rises to her cream-dipped paws, she looks up to regard her mother, orange-yellow eyes soft with intent. A question poses on the tip of her pink tongue, but she's not sure what she's trying to ask-- so she turns away again, toddling out to mingle with the clanmates she hardly knew she'd had all this time.

The girl stays quiet, taking in the sights and the sounds of a world not stained warmly with motherly love. It's windy out here, and the sun beats harsh on her with no den to take cover in. Bi-colored eyes flick about, and really, there's too much to take in by looking alone. She'll definitely have to do some paws-on investigating. For now, she inspects a particularly interesting stalk of heather, frozen in place by her newfound freedom.​

​

 

[FROSTPAW.]

If it is a question of how many clanmates Frostkit could tolerate...he's honestly not sure the number. Already he feels overwhelmed– steady as the kitten may be with his siblings, he looks at the camp now with a frosty trepidation. Strangers in small doses was nothing to worry him, but as they stumble out of camp, only the size of the great paws that wander around, many eyes turn towards them. He straightens up instinctively, as if afraid they would judge his posture. If part of him shifts a little bit closer to his siblings, or to cover up one of them from a potentially critical gaze, that is hardly important just now.

It's the sky that fascinates him, once his protectiveness has worn off. Scorchkit turns to a piece of heather and Frostkit does mean to join her, truly, but instead his pale gaze turns towards the matching sky. It is gusty and cold, a gray that he recognizes as unhappy even in his fleeting acquaintanceship with it. Right on time, a lazy burst of air tickles his fur. He's certain that if he hadn't dug his paws into the dirt as he had just then, it might have swept him over entirely. To be here now, at the beginning of this storm– what does that say about them?

＞ˏˋ〘  OOC NOTES REFERENCE 06.03.2023 〙ˊˎ＜

• ooc: —

• 

• frostkit. named for his coloration, and in memory of tigerfrost.
  —— amab nonbinary, he - him - his; will soon add they - them. kit of windclan.
  —— badgermoon x scorchstreak. sibling to rumblekit, luckykit, and scorchkit.
  
  frostkit is remarkably average, all things considered. he is of the expected size and shape, if perhaps a little blockier with his father's influence. his black and white pelt is short and scruffy, and his eyes are the expected kitten blue, if a shade lighter than what is typical.

• "speech"

​

 

[LUCKYPAW]

The outside world is certainly something that's remained ever-present in Luckykit's head, haunting the back of his thoughts - after all, it's only been a few pawsteps away this whole time, even if he hasn't had any inclination to take those pawsteps of his own accord. Hearing about the activities of WindClan as a whole from his parents and from scattered visits from clanmates was plenty enough for him, and as he and his siblings continued to grow and toddle about the nursery, Luckykit began to dread the day they would all be released out into the real world. From the stories, it sounded impossibly big, full of new and strange things, and the boy wanted nothing to do with it; growing boredom with the same games aside, the nursery was familiar and safe, and outside was decidedly not. Still, he finds himself hesitantly following in his mother's pawsteps, blinking against the sudden shift in brightness.

Immediately, green eyes blow wide at the sight before him - it's one thing hearing about this new world, and another entirely seeing it for himself. Everything is so...vast, and he can feel himself shrinking back, already wanting to retreat back to the confines of the nursery. It's overwhelming, all the new sights and sounds and smells, and just as Luckykit's deciding he never wants to explore it all, Scorchstreak is pulling in closer, offering them a bit of guidance that he quickly clings to, instinctively leaning in closer to his mother and siblings. Don't go past the camp walls until their apprentices - easy enough when he doesn't ever want to leave them. The idea of there being more out there, a greater world than what they're experiencing right now, sends a shudder through his small frame. Stay out of tunnels - also a simple request, as Luckykit has no great desire to explore yet another new world full of hidden dangers.

The last instruction isn't one he's quite so eager to fulfill - go say hello to their fellow clanmates? He's met a scarce few of them, and it wasn't so bad in the end, but meeting so many of them at once, out in this new environment? It's enough to leave him feeling rooted to the spot, unintentionally mimicking both Scorchkit's and Frostkit's reactions as he tries to take in at least some of his surroundings. Still, it's not like he can just say 'no, I don't want to meet anyone today, thank you,' when his clanmates have already started gathering (to meet him, his mind supplies unhelpfully) and when Scorchstreak is surely expecting them to all put their best feet forward. Cautiously, Luckykit inches forwards, only to grind to a halt as he pauses to give his pelt a quick once-over. If he's going to face the world, he'll at least do it looking his best - it wouldn't do to look entirely disheveled when meeting so many of his clanmates for the first time. That, and it gives him an opportunity to focus on something else for a moment, prolonging the inevitable.

It doesn't take long before Luckykit runs out of messy fur to groom and, unable to think of any more excuses, skitters a few more uncertain steps away from his family's side and towards the closest cat he can see. Luckykit tries to puff himself up, holding his head high, but his tail betrays his nerves, lashing out behind him. "Hello. I'm Luckykit," he offers simply, paws already itching to carry him back to hide away. "It's...um, it's nice to meet you," Luckykit adds hesitantly, trying to be polite. That's what you were supposed to say, right? Only, it didn't feel all that nice - he still felt open and exposed out in camp, and the prospect of having to greet more than one other cat didn't make him feel any better. Would it be rude to turn and run after a response? Probably, he thinks, and so he tries to tune out the part of his brain offering escape strategies and to instead focus on the cat before him.
​

[ PENNED BY HIJINKS ]​

 

[Badgermoon]

The last few moons had been difficult, what with WindClan's struggles with other Clans, but they had also been the most joyful of Badgermoon's life. Certainly the way in which Scorchstreak had become pregnant was unexpected, and deriving from less-than-optimal feelings, but the end result was a litter of four kittens: the best thing that had ever happened to him. The black-and-white tomcat had been an almost nonstop visitor to the nursery, doing his best to spend time with his children - whether to give Scorchstreak a break from her duties as a mother or simply to bond with them. Now, though, it was time: time for the little creatures to be let loose upon the Clan. The broad-shouldered tom was hardly able to contain his excitement as he bounded towards his family. My family.

Badgermoon sat beside Scorchstreak and offered the tortoiseshell a proud grin - while they weren't exactly close, and certainly weren't mates, they agreed on the fact that their children were perfect. His eyes drifted over to Scorchkit as she intently surveyed a sprig of heather, a grin appearing on his face; it lingered as he watched Frostkit stare into the dreary sky and nearly get knocked off his tiny paws. The windstorm currently raging over the moor was somewhat surprising, but he couldn't lie and say it was unwelcome: the gusts of wind made him feel alive, and even if it made hunting difficult and occasionally tossed debris around, he relished the weather. He did feel a bit bad for his smaller Clanmates, not just the tunnelers but also apprentices and kits - but there were worse things than being a little wind-tossed.

The deputy watched with pride as Luckykit took the plunge and introduced himself to the nearest cat, looking expectantly to see what their response was.​

 

[GHOSTWAIL]

She blinks at the thing that has approached her, burning eyes processing the scrap of fur that has so bravely offered their name. In the eyes of certain warriors, she is a mother herself, but privately the she-cat could not imagine what possessed any cat to wish to spawn these clumsier, smaller versions of themselves. Her eyes slide off the thing - ahem, the kit and onto the proud preening parents. Beaming and boastful of their brood, clearly. Ghostwail's nose flares imperceptibly, taking in the heady milk-stench and not-quite-grown-in scent of the collected spawn. They are dubbed inconsequential by the phantom.

"Control your posture." She drawls in her signature monotone, her burning eyes flicking to the kit's non-stop tail. "Tremulousness is unbecoming. A lack of composure is a lack of sophistication, a trait rather... unneeded here." A trait rather annoying as well.​

- you call for peace when it suits you​

 

[cygnetstare]

The last time she saw these kits, dropping off her gift, they were simply a rainbow of tiny bundles at Scorchstreak's stomach; incapable of anything more than wailing for milk and climbing over each other, it seemed. Her fellow tunneler's kits are bigger, looking more like cats than lumps of multicolored clay now, and they can talk, it seems; Ghostwail, a warrior with a pelt akin to half of her own, is greeted by one of them. Cygnetstare's viscera eyes squint, trying to recall the kits' introduction to her by color—Luckykit, she thinks. The small warrior hoists her wasted frame upwards and staggers closer to the tableau of miniature cats; she looks down at the slightly scattered kittens.

Their skeletal frame approaches further towards one of the kittens, who's staring up at the sky and being relatably windswept. The latest storm has preyed on Cygnetstare whenever she dares to venture aboveground; already tiny, the tunneler's brittle frame and concave stomach makes them feel close to being swept fully away sometimes. Despite the roiling waves of death-stench rippling off of Cygnetstare and her wide pink gaze, she bears no ill will towards anyone, much less this kitten; the tunneler makes an attempt at a smile. Her maw opens to deliver a gravelly Northeastern mew, undoubtedly exotic to the kitten's fresh ears, "Better watch out for that wind, ayuh? Blow a little thing like you down apiece."
​

// ooc: interacting with frostkit

 

[LUCKYPAW]

The intense gaze locked on him makes Luckykit shrink back - it didn't feel welcoming, or even mildly happy to see him like he was expecting to meet. Rather, it only makes his desire to flee that much greater, though her response draws him back in. Not a 'hello' back, or an offered name in kind, but a correction, an attack on his composure. His tail pauses in its lashing, not out of a desire to follow Ghostwail's advice but out of confusion at the direction this interaction has quickly taken. He'd tried to look more eager, more sure of himself than he really was, but clearly Luckykit hadn't tried hard enough, since the ghost before him had seen right through him, comments piercing right through his core. Was he really that...unbecoming? So much so that it was pointed out before anything else? He wonders if any of his siblings are receiving this unwarranted advice, wants to turn and take stock of them, but instead he holds Ghostwail's gaze, chin jutting out slightly in defiance. He wasn't unbecoming! He'd show her!

Small chest puffs out, back straightens, and tail is held proudly aloft, defensiveness glittering sharply in his eyes. "I'm not unbecoming! I'm - I'm very becoming, and I have sophistication," Luckykit retorts, sounding out the new term. He's not entirely certain what sophistication really is or what being sophisticated might entail, but surely it's something that applies to him, especially right now when he's trying so hard to stay still even with gusts of wind pushing and pulling at his frame. He's very sophisticated and very composed, thank you very much. "...you were supposed to say hello back," he practically pouts, narrowed eyes searching for some hint of approval, that his posturing meant something. Luckykit hadn't even meant to follow her orders, really, but he had to prove that he had sophistication, that he wasn't something unneeded, though whether to Ghostwail, to any onlookers, or to himself, the boy isn't quite sure.​

[ PENNED BY HIJINKS ]​

 

[Voidwhisker]

Kits were interesting. They had a mind uncorrupted by the horrors and complications of the world. Free and innocent, living their best lives untethered by responsibility or anxiety. How he wished to be that innocent and happy again. Scorchstreaks kits are making their grand debut, and he cant help but smile. Sure, his smile is perpetually menacing. Not his fault.

Luckykit picks a poor choice for a first introduction to the clan, Ghostwail telling him he had poor posture. What a PARTY POOPER.

The small seal pointed tom trotted over to them. HE wouldn't be a party pooper.

"Don't take it personally, Luckykit. Ghostwail Doesn't know how to have fun." He says. "A terrible condition, I know." He adds with psuedo heartbreak, complete with a wiping of an imaginary tear.

"My name is Voidwhisker! Hello~" He greets the smaller cat. He wondered if this kit would grow bigger than him. Probably, Voidwhisker was....Pretty small.​

 

[RUMBLERAIN]

As Scorchstreak explains the rules, Rumblekit nods along. Stay inside the walls until they're apprentices, stay out of the tunnels full stop. That's ... good, they think; it makes everything all less everything, and Rumblekit can appreciate that. Exploring within the boundaries of camp ... yeah, that sounded good!

"Okay, mama." They agree politely, pressing their fur against Scorchkit's briefly in a show of support for their nervous-looking sister, though they're almost knocked sideways by a gust of wind in the meantime as blue eyes cast across the camp for a familiar face. Score! A couple of familiar pelts push through the gorse tunnel, and Rumblekit takes a guess that this would be one of the hunting patrols. They'd been successful too, they note as they register the morsels dangling from warriors' jaws.

Ink-tipped ears prick upwards excitedly and before they can overthink it Rumblekit is off, trekking across unfamiliar terrain of the WindClan camp towards @WEASELCLAW with their little tail held high in greeting. "Weaselclaw! Mama let us out of the nursery, look! Me and Frostkit and Luckykit and Scorchkit are all out. How was hunting? Is, um ..." Ah, what was the phrase? "Is the prey well?" They'd missed a word in there, unknowingly, but Rumblekit practically lifts off the ground with the force of their excitement to recognise one of the warriors who'd passed by to say hello.

​

 

[Cloudedsky]

( ♬ ) With Scorchstreak confined within the nursery, Cloudedsky had taken up some of her patrols through the catacombs of the tunnels. A certain exhaustion plagues her delicate features, though she does her best to hide that with a held aloft helm and swaying tail. For these days few days, Cloudedsky's mind had been elsewhere still—far away whilst her body worked on autopilot. She remembers Granitepelt, that ShadowClanner, and how Sootstar had caught them speaking. She hadn't thought it being such a mistake, but clearly she had done something wrong and wasn't sure what. Those words that rung in her ears still, it bothered her. Why was she so brash over a simple conversation? Apart of her wanted to ask, but she feared the repercussions if she did. Sootstar was one for small talk, she's come to know. She claims she is too busy, and that Cloudedsky understands. The stress of being a leader was no simple task to bear.
Perhaps a distraction would bring more life back into the young warrior. Something to take her mind off it all. It is then that she returns to camp, patched fur still littered with loose soil and grit that clung to the whisps of her pelt that she sees four bundles of fur frolicking about. Vibrant irises seem to light up from the sight if them, a bounce put back into her step as she closes into the group just in time to hear Ghostwail and Luckykit speaking. She manages a small smile, trying not to erupt into a fit of giggles as the kit tried to mimick their words. The tunneler moves elegantly, aiming to take a seat beside her friend with Badgermoon at her side with the howling wind at her back. "Stars, Scorchstreak and Badgermoon. They're so big already!" She exclaims, a budding excitement fizzling at her paws. She happens to look down to Scorchkit examining a stem of heather and she aims to gently bat at the plant, hoping that she would want to play with it. "Use your paws to swipe at it." Her tone is encouraging, hoping to engage her into play.
​

( You should see me in a crown ; I'm gonna run this nothing town )

 

[curlewnose]

"maybe I'll find where it all fell apart, but I haven't yet"​

The sound of little pawsteps and Scorchstreak’s voice drew Curlewnose from the fresh kill pile, sending his lanky limbs skittering across camp. He’d been by the nursery many times, always bringing fresh soil and a new pebble for his best friend and her kits, and the sight of the little ones out and about sent a jolt of joy through his chest. Soon enough they would be apprentices, learning the territory. If he was lucky, maybe Sootstar would allow him to mentor one of them.

Immediately the tom noticed Frostkit, looking a bit lost while staring at the sky. He looks just like Badgermoon with his brow furrowed like that. A quick glance to the deputy and then Curlew put it out of his mind. Badgermoon might be a coward, but the tunneller would make sure that none of the kits inherited that flaw. Curlew stepped cautiously towards Frostkit, being sure not to scare him. He hoped, perhaps selfishly, that a familiar face other than his mother’s–his face–would be comforting during this first trip out of the nursery. The older cat said nothing, allowing the kit to decide whether the pair spoke or not.
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✦ ★ ✦​