Uranuskit is young. She is a daylight warrior - or might be. These don't escape her understanding as she follows her mother into camp, paws cool and aching. Pelt shivering, the molly tries her best to look unaffected. She is bigger now - her body elongating and warping into something different. Something new. Something more like her father then a fluff ball, but that does not change everything about her - nor should it. The season change. The weather changes. But it is still the season. It is still the weather. No matter how uncomfortably cold it is.
"Is it just me, or is it getting colder every time we come here?" She whispers, her breath a blur in front of her. She casts icy eyes around camp. Cats look thinner here, and shame runs through her. Why don't they eat two legs food? Why don't they all have nests to go back to? She knows that the undergrowth is gone now, mainly ghosts or suggestions of the plants they once were. How can you hunt if you have no cover? A breeze rips through the trees above, she whines as it does hurrying over to a group chatting cats in hopes that their words would give distraction to the cold.
Polite - for her - Uranus jumps into the conversation and does her best not to chat over other cats as she is swept into the warm shape of words. It's only when the conversation shifts to rumors that she breaks this personal rule.
"Wait, why would that be a bad thing?" Her question is loud but still polite - the kind of annoying only a child can be as they trip all over another cat. "Why wouldn't we want cat to work together? Wouldn't that mean less fighting and more prey for all of, " us was an odd word, given the context, so "you" comes out instead. Shame follows, but Uranus keeps her eyes unclouded by embarrassment as she awaits an answer.
