i hope your broken wings can carry you ➺ mud pit

[Magpiepaw]

There are rules. There are many rules. When he was first brought to ShadowClan swinging from carefully clenched teeth with the promise of food and a warm den, he remembered hearing of a few rules he was expected to follow no matter what. Very important you see, things that were not so much meant to impede him but to keep him safe. Magpiekit had nodded solemnly along, more focused on the fact he was going to be getting a meal soon and less on the words the older cats were speaking but he did remember them and he did do his due diligence to obey for the most part. One rule he had not broken was to not leave camp. He often roamed close to the camp border but never past it, his wide eyes often staring past the bramble thorn walls that kept them safely shrouded from outsiders. Today, he loses his battle to the restraint that kept him from wandering and noses his way through the tangle of briars and tall grass to outside. Magpiekit is not sure what he expects, that he is not immediately rewarded for his daring with something fascinating and inspiring is a dissappointment but the wobbly kitten continues his journey to explore without much hesitation. Tiny black paws creep along the slick ground, the marshland drying slowly as the air became more arid and the sun shone more brightly; he is not aware of the season shift but he hears cats murmur their delight at newleaf's arrival and he mimics their enthusiasm. It would be nice, yes.

The kitten bobs along, pausing as he orients himself to stand up straighter and align his path because sometimes his wiggling body diverted from his planned course and like a child it must be scolded and redirected; but eventually he comes across something interesting. A long branch across a tiny pit that bubbles brown ichor and dreary water. A mud puddle, but a large one. His paws clamber across the strewn branch to the otherside, shaking as he gets to the center and he feels the wooden limb twist beneath his paws despite his efforts to hold his balance-he is betrayed by his own clumsy paws and knocked into the pit below with a shrill yelp of surprise; swallowed by the muck and his paws flail in a bid to keep himself above it. Pitiful wails rise up from his throat for once, choked songbird cries; he's going to be eaten by the earth itself.
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[DOGFUR]

What a funny little kit!

Dogfur aligned his head to an excessive degree to the left as he watched Magpiekit wobble down the forbidden outside path. He knew all too well that what was forbidden was the most desirable. It was a simple equation—anyone could see it. He could not help but tremble with some sort of strange excitement. A win!

The warrior glanced back at the patrol he had abandoned. He had found another half-budding new-leaf plant and while they weren't looking, he crushed it beneath his paws, feeling a fascinating trill up his spine as he did it. He looked again for Magpiekit. If other cats saw and decided to say something about the missing kit, they could. But Dogfur would stay silent. That is, until he heard the pitiful mews of a child being choked by the earth itself.

Dogfur padded over, seeing Magpiekit's head bobbing near the top of the deadly mud. "Ach, I liked you. I would be sad if you died." The tortoiseshell stepped closer to the mud pit, feeling his forepaw sink deeply into it as he crouched closer. He leaned forward, attempting to grab the scruff of the kit and pull him up.

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[FORESTSHADE]

A rebel herself, she can't particularly blame the kit for wandering outside of the camp's walls. But as an adult, a warrior, she knows better than to let her wander out. There are dangers that can befall children outside the safety of their clearing, ones that the young have a hard time grasping and so it must be up to the adults (ugh, boring) to grasp them for them. Fluffy ears twitch as she pads by, noticing the tiny pawsteps and the milky scent of a child where he isn't supposed to be. He's leaving camp, right before everyone's eyes, and not a soul is seeing it! Hell, at least Forestshade has an excuse!

Turning on her heel, she begins to trek out of camp, jaws parting to warn her clanmates before the wailing reaches her. It's enough to kick her pace up a notch and the torbie soon arrives at the deep mud puddle at Dogfur's side. Her toes sink into the edge of the pool, her nose scrunching in frustration at not being able to pinpoint where the kid is. "Can you get him?" She asks her denmate, gripping the ground fiercely with unsheathed claws.​

 

[smogstar]

Rules are not meant to be broken, nor are they intended to be upheld fanatically. Above all else, they are benchmarks, a function of guidance more so than control. As a concept existing only in thoughts and words, they are impossible to physically follow, and thus, it is morally forgivable to forego them on occasion. Smogmaw is of the belief rules are to be picked and chosen; the basis of enforcing or ignoring them should derive from the potential benefit of doing so.

Hence, he too couldn't give a rat's ass about Magpiekit wandering outside of camp. Even though there happens to be child-murdering rogues out and about, the little scuzzball knew the rules and chose to renounce them. If he goes belly-up as a result, then that's entirely on him.

The dark-smudged tabby knew that - at the same time - providing his supervision would be the responsible course of action here.

Astute paws carry him down the route taken by the kit. Considering the myriad of scents hanging in the territory's air, it would seem as though some of his clanmates had gotten the same idea. He takes a turn, and then another, before the makings of a frown begin to take hold of his maw. The bottoms of his pads sink into the ground to a greater extent than before. This isn't exactly a safe area for a kit to explore.

Lo and behold, Smogmaw sees it: Magpiekit is trying to go belly-up. Witless little fucker. At least he's in a swamp pool and not in the jaws of a killer.

Hurrying over to the water body's perimeter, the tom grazes past Forestshade with a brief "M'bad," before he finally encroaches on the tortie's rear. "I'll grab your tail if you need the support."

It's just a kit, so Dogfur shouldn't realistically have any trouble. Nevertheless, Smogmaw was always looking for a reason to bite the tortoiseshell tom.​

 

[Magpiepaw]

He could not see for the inky darkness that swilled around him, eyes shut tight to avoid the grit and mud getting into them; so tightly he saw stars and was briefly mesmorized by them. Tiny pinpricks of white enveloping his closed vision, burning hotly inside his eyelids; so focused on this new discovery he almost did not know teeth had sunk into his scruff and he felt himself raised upward out of the thick weight of the muck folding around him. A small mewl of alarm escaped him, his mouth filled with grit and dirt as a result and he sputted and thrashed clumsily from where he dangled from Dogfur's maw. Magpiekit could not have been very easy to hold, he was almost 4 moons now and covered in clumping mud that added additional weight to his swaying form; but thankfully it seemed the tortie had a proper grip. Other voices sounded around him, he became very away of the sensation of being moved in place and wondered when he might be put down; he was in trouble.
The thought didn't seem to bother him really, trouble happened to cats and some sought it out for themselves such as himself because waiting for fate to unfold was boring and impractical when you could do it yourself. If he advanced his troubles enough, his future would have none to trip him clearly.
Magpiekit continued to sputter, mud sloughing off him and his black and white pelt all but obscured in the murky brown, "I saw the sky in there."
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[DOGFUR]

A four moon old kitten was roughly about half his size and, waterlogged with sticky mud, it would prove to be straining Dogufr's neck muscles in a way he would not be used to.

"Slippery little thing he is." Dogfur mumbled around his scuff, hearing Forestshade nearby but unable to properly look at her due to his position. The tortoiseshell tensed his haunches and shoulders, bracing himself for the eventually pull of up and out.

"How kind!" Dogfur purred, immediately recognizing Smogmaw's grating voice. It was like music to his ill-musical ears. He lashed his tail. If Smogmaw was not quick enough to grab it or react, it may strike and thrash against the tabby's face. With a final push, his strength coming from his forepaws, Magpiekit was broken free and Dogfur twisted his head to drop the black and white kit onto the ground. He would not be carrying him around—far too heavy for a cat with his composition.

"Oh!" Dogfur laughed, shaking his legs off from the mud. "What color was it? I've always wanted to know." Getting the kitten back to camp in orderly fashion was the least of his concerns.

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