- Jul 5, 2024
- 41
- 32
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the exit to camp is stuffed in long, curling thickets of spine - dotted greenery. leafbare blooms their intimidating stalks with buds of vibrant citrine, orange - yellow petals catching in the late greenleaf breeze. they glow the color of little suns, and may as well be blowing the same heat ; bayingkit swelters in black - etched coat, maw open and tongue lulling to breathe through the heat. she is bored, and the humidity so thick she does not want to expend her energy far enough to stand to wonkily elongated limbs. she stays beneath the arch of tangled gorse with a smattering of denmates, all coiled into the dark parts of hot dirt, to watch the comings and goings of her elders. warriors pass by without a second glance at the kittens, curled like serpents with heads popping from little arms only to trail after retreating paws. the evening dims, and activity becomes less common at the tunnel, less warriors out past their walls in the growing night. there is a faint beam of emerging fireflies just past the long, hollow trail — she eyes it, teeth chewing at the broken end of a stick shed clamped between two thick, claw - extended paws.
this was as far as they were allowed to go ; bayingkit knows this well. she can still feel the phantom nips of her mother steering her away from the dense exit, flits her eyes back to see if the nightdark queen was watching ( she'd told her she was resting near the tunnel, with the other kits. she was. she'd not done anything wrong, despite the heavy feeling in her chest that tells her to keep looking. ), and feels the beginnings of childlike curiosity bubble beneath the vague simmer of boredom and heat - laden frustration at the lack of moonlit eyes. as if destined, forestfire luminaries lift, catching the eye of another kit at the opposite side of the thicket hollow. something wolfish crosses snaggletooth muzzle, tall ears flitting back as if to ask silently if they were thinking what she was ; the tunnel was just high enough for them to skitter in, just enough to turn and scurry back out before a queen catches them. her tail bottlebrushes with slit - eyed excitement at finding a game she'd like, " bet.. " her teeth grit, " bet.. i can get further into the tunnel than you can. " it's a poorly concealed dare, a game of chicken that has her tucking a long snout beneath her paws, tail lashing enough to wag her brawny body. with her entire being she goads ; do it.
this was as far as they were allowed to go ; bayingkit knows this well. she can still feel the phantom nips of her mother steering her away from the dense exit, flits her eyes back to see if the nightdark queen was watching ( she'd told her she was resting near the tunnel, with the other kits. she was. she'd not done anything wrong, despite the heavy feeling in her chest that tells her to keep looking. ), and feels the beginnings of childlike curiosity bubble beneath the vague simmer of boredom and heat - laden frustration at the lack of moonlit eyes. as if destined, forestfire luminaries lift, catching the eye of another kit at the opposite side of the thicket hollow. something wolfish crosses snaggletooth muzzle, tall ears flitting back as if to ask silently if they were thinking what she was ; the tunnel was just high enough for them to skitter in, just enough to turn and scurry back out before a queen catches them. her tail bottlebrushes with slit - eyed excitement at finding a game she'd like, " bet.. " her teeth grit, " bet.. i can get further into the tunnel than you can. " it's a poorly concealed dare, a game of chicken that has her tucking a long snout beneath her paws, tail lashing enough to wag her brawny body. with her entire being she goads ; do it.
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i. @ warriors pls let a couple kits take turns before busting them hehe
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- ” speech “
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BAYINGKIT
———————SHE / HER, KITTEN OF THUNDERCLAN. NIGHTBIRD xx RACCOONSTRIPE, SISTER TO TWILIGHTKIT, TIGERKIT, STORMKIT & LIGHTNINGKIT. 3 MOONS OLD, SMELLS LIKE DISRUPTED SOIL & WET FUR. PENNED BY ANTLERS.
a large, unsightly black tabby kitten.mongrelish, standing all thistlethorn fur and bared teeth, bayingkit would be thought roguish if not for the dogtooth crown she uncomfortably bears. a hereditary haunting lies in the shag of ornate black striping and long limbs that do not yet suit her wide, slouching shoulders ; her fathers daughter, laced in dredge and filth moreso than he’d ever been. a constant, incessant need to make herself small forms in hunched spine and weary, whale - eyed suspicion, communicating mostly in rumbling growls.. bayingkit tends to hold herself with a tuck tailed and trembling livewire of feral volatility.
