camp JUST AN ORDINARY DAY (litter intro)

[LIGHTNINGSTONE]

// feel free to reply before the kiddos! @meadowkit @brook-kit @Brightkit

The slim-figured tom slips out of the temporary nursery, hazel eyes cautiously glancing back at the kits he has in tow. Though it makes him a bit nervous, he supposes it's time they come outside the nursery and meet their clanmates. In just a moon, they'll begin their training under mentors of their own, and as he guides the three into the clearing he can't help but wonder who Cicadastar will choose for them. "Stay close," He he instructs gruffly, curled ears twitching as he seats himself. Another glance is thrown towards the nursery where his mate resides. The birth had been difficult, leaving her cooped up in her nest most days while her body recovers. He's not really dad material, but he can at least handle taking them outside today to give Buckgait a break from their rowdiness. Now that they're two moons, they've been a much bigger pawful than they used to be.

"Everyone, I'd like you to officially meet my son, Meadowkit, and my daughters, Brook-kit and Brightkit." He straightens himself, billowy chest puffing out just a bit. Though not a father that anyone could call affectionate or even super involved, there is still a hint of pride in his words as he watches his children meet their clanmates. For most of them who haven't visited the nursery since their birth, this would be their first time seeing the kittens.​

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) ever since buckgait had confided in hushed whispers the life growing in her stomach, willowroot has felt a tingling of excitement. she adores kits, treasures her time with them, especially her own. her moons in the nursery were punctuated by strife within the clan, but in the quiet den, she'd felt safe and comfortable, snuggled up with her children. she hopes buck will begin to feel the same. when the earthen molly had been removed from her position by a distrustful river king, willowroot had almost lost her mind. still, if her pseudo sister is comfortable with the decision, she has decided to let it lie. she will follow buckgait's lead- as she always has.

so, outside of patrols and border spats, she's spent a majority of her time with her own kits or with buckgait. her friend had joked vaguely that she was as bad as lightningstone in her worry. silently, willow doubts it is possible to be more nervous than the storm hued tom about the birth. still, she enjoys her friend's company, and appreciates the woman's quiet support after hard days.

(there is another reason willow is worried, but she doesn't like to talk about it. she is perhaps one of three cats who know of fawn, of buck's difficult birth and heartbreak. overworking has lead to kit death too many times in her life for willowroot to allow her friend to do it again. between her and lightningstone, buckgait had gotten enough rest for a difficult but not tragic birth.)

today, the sun shines through watery clouds, budding trees blowing gently in a breeze as the temporary camp bustles about. slender paws announce the emergence of their friend's mate from the nursery, and tiny patters behind him reveal a trio of fluffy kittens, bright eyes gazing about in wonder. the kids are finally ready to explore and get into trouble- a difficult but endearing phase in all development. willowroot can remember only a moon ago when little claws had clung to their back, prompting gently badger rides within the confines of the temporary den. a grin flits across the smoke femme's face and they'll trot up, offering a smile and a nod to lightningstone before bending down to speak to the children. "good morning, little warriors," she greets, purring. "it's good to see you out of the nursery! good for you, giving your momma a break." ​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )

 

[☆ Brightpaw ☆]

A radiant sun shines brightly in the pristine blue sky, briefly blinding the cinnamon hued kit scuttling out of the nursery. There is no denying this kitten is Buckgait's daughter, but she is just as much her father's child. Brightkit does not seem to notice or mind her father's lack of outward affection—she has more than enough for both of them. So much so that she weaves between his legs with a purr. "Hello!" A pair of blue eyes blink curiously at the pretty grey cat before her. "I'm Brightkit!" Although her vocabulary is limited, she pronounces each word as if she came up with it herself. Especially her name. She's certain that she was born with it already formed on her tongue. Despite the youth's apparent lack of uncertainty about anything, she seems to linger close to Lightningstone. Perhaps she can sense her father's nervousness and wants to fix it somehow by not straying too far. Or maybe the sunlight is just a little overwhelming compared to the peaceful glow within the nursery and she's using him for shade.

Brightkit nods her head along, approving everything the grey cat says to her. She is a little warrior and, yes, it is wonderful to be out of the nursery. "Mama is tired of us," she says, remembering the weary dullness that clouded Buckgait's eyes. She frowns.

"I don't know you." Though it's worded as a statement, Brightkit is staring at the stranger quite intently. Waiting. Expecting. Demanding an introduction. The overwhelming curiosity finally wins over the innate desire to soothe her father and she trots toward Willowroot with an eager expression before taking an inspecting sniff. Something about this cat is a little familiar. Not their face or their appearance, but maybe the voice and the scent. She can't place it, but it makes her think of her mother. "Are you and Mama friends?"​

 

[SMOKESTAR]

There is no fondness for Buckgait in his heart, not a drop to be sparred her; she was his clanmate and he would defend her as he would any other but there was no kindness or comraderie to be had between them and there never would be. He had tried, Stars know he had made attempts to put them on even ground but she had been too caught up in standing over him and looming downard despite her small stature that she ignored the oliver branch. So he gave up. Begrudingly tolerating her until finally even Cicadastar's patience had worn then and he cast her aside, leaving the clan to fall on his own shoulders alone, not that she gave much more than biting comments and protests before. Smokethroat does not hold this against her kits, his dislike of the woman did not change the excitement at seeing new life in the nursery once more. They had not had a proper RiverClan born litter since Willowroot's own. While he still struggled to know how to speak to the younger cats of their clan, he had gotten used to them enough to not be so hesitant to approach and on long strides he did so; pausing alongside Willowroot with a nod of greeting to Lightningstone and that single orange eye examining the trio wandering out to explore.
The gray tom's introductions give him a moment's pause at the last name, remembering Rainwhisker's untimely death and how devastated the clan had been; the kind blind she-cat had not deserved such a fate but her original name lived on in this little scrap of gray. Meadowkit was a good, solid name as well and Brightkit was instantly suiting...

She introduces herself, confident, bold, a kitten with a touch of attitude. A good sign if you asked him, it was the start of the spark that would ignite into an excellent fighter. He can not withhold the brief, amused smile that forces its way across his maw to the kitten's blunt comment of Buckgait tiring of them; kittens were a handful, that even the cinnamon molly who only liked kits seemed weary of them struck him as comical.
"Energetic aren't they." His gaze drifts back to the nursery for any sign of their mother but seems she was not inclined to join the clan today so he glances back to Lightningstone with a nod. "They all look healthy, I'm glad."
​

 

[brookstorm]

'Stay close.' A simple command only met justly with an affirming gaze. Brook-kit feels nervousness tickle her soft pawpads as their father lures them from the safety of the nursery, but she strides with as much confidence as her siblings nonetheless. After all, stay close is a protective spirit that lives on in their quiet father, a promise that the world beyond Buckgait's watchful gaze isn't scary. Brightkit weaves in and out, excitedly, between Lightningstone's legs and threatens to trip him with every step - Brook-kit trots alongside him, instead.

It's not long before they halt and their stone-colored father addresses all who can hear him. She stands as he does, puffing out her chest just enough to mimic his pride, though she's not entirely sure what to be prideful for. Regardless her gaze falls on Willowroot first - the femme seems trustworthy, especially with how she speaks to them, as if she knows how. It's not often Brook-kit gets to experience other RiverClanners, given her youth. It's comforting still, and she looks on as Brightkit questions her in return. Smokethroat is met with a similarly inquisitive gaze, and Brook-kit expects the tom to be standoffish, quiet, narrow eyed and to maybe flick his tail as a means of play - that's how Lightningstone is, after all. And if Willowroot acts like a mother, then surely Smokethroat will act like a father, right?

Brook-kit tilts her head to the side, curled ears twitching and spinning as she listens to the noises around them. She spies the lead warrior's dark tail behind him (just where it should be) and she leans down, prowling towards Smokethroat's tail on wobbly, curious paws. There's no warning before she leaps - however it's no issue, as she lands far too short of his tail, tripping over her own paws in the process. "Ow..." is all she says in the end, scrunching up her nose.​

 

[meadowheart]

TAGS — There is a wide world outside of the warmth-woven walls of the nursery. As Meadowkit emerges behind his siblings, his sunlit-green gaze turns to the sky, and then to the place where the sky stood upon the earth, and then to the edges of camp-- and it is all so vast, and beautiful, and different from what he knows, that he is a bit overwhelmed. Stay close, Lightningstone instructs, and Meadowkit is, of course, happy to obey-- except he is standing somewhat awe-struck in the nursery's mouth, squinting against the light. His sisters move past him, one flying an arrow's path and the other bobbing and weaving. Not wanting to be left behind, Meadowkit hops after Brook-kit, stumbling to a stop as she trips over herself.

"Brook-kit fell," Meadowkit chirps to his father, glancing up at Lightningstone. Close, he confirms to himself. He's hardly more than a tail-length away from the tom. He's obeying, then-- good! That means he has the freedom to look around him; to meet the RiverClanners that live beyond the milky envelope that he has known thus far. Brightkit is busy talking to one of them; he doesn't know her name, but she speaks to him like his mother does. Speaking of Buckgait... he casts his gaze back towards the nursery, wondering when their cinnamon-hued mother would emerge. She was tired, sure, but she would definitely want to be out here with them all, right? Meadowkit's ears twitch, and he turns his focus back to the warriors outside with them.

Smokethroat mentions something about energy and health. Cats like to call him that-- energetic. "Me too!" he chimes, perhaps not quite completing a conversation, but at least he had the spirit, right? Meadowkit glances to Brook-kit now, softly pressing a paw into her shoulder- and nearly tripping over her himself, now. "Are you energetic?" the kitten parrots, heather-hued tail flicking curiously.​

​

 

[FERNGILL]

Once upon a time he'd been that small, hadn't he? Smaller than this, even- his littermates and several bewildered glances had betrayed to Fernpaw the fact that he was a runt. Even now, fully grown into a sunset swan-feather pelt, he stood shorter than most. A lither figure, svelte and slight, built for swift swimming.

Oh- but this was something to be excited about, and Fernpaw's smile lit his face like dawn illuminated dead night. Gleefully, he trotted over to meet his new Clanmates- he couldn't believe they were this big already! So small, and yet... bigger than he'd thought. Meadowkit, Brightkit and Brook-kit... they were happy names, and one that rang with remembrance for a Clanmate lost.

The latter's ash-furred form leapt for a target- Smokethroat's tail, it looked like, but it was a goal offshoot by a small mile. Meadowkit chirped an observation, a matter-of-fact kit-analysis of what had just transpired- but Fernpaw was already hurrying his way over, holding out a flame hued paw for Brook-kit to use as support on her way back up. "Hey, you okay?" he hummed, slight concern glinting in his gaze. She wasn't crying, or anything... but it was good to make sure, right?​

✦ penned by pin ✦​

 

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) a purr rumbles from the very heart of the femme as a tiny voice addresses her. brightkit gazes up with a serious curiosity that reminds willowroot of the child's mother. buckgait carries that same squinting inquiry, eager to learn, but defensive nonetheless. "brightkit! a beautiful name!" of course, willowroot is well aware of the names of her friend's children, but the little voice introducing herself is too endearing to not reply to. "your mama is tired, but she loves you. i bet she'll be excited to know all the adventures you're going to get up to today." emerald eyes flicker over the rest of the assembled troop, noting brook-kit's attempted hunting crouch. amusement dances in her expression as willowroot glances at smokethroat, silently begging him to play along. the gruff tom is sometimes awkward around kids. as the storm hued she-kit leaps, the lead warrior will hold back a soft chuckle. meadowkit stumbles after and points out the obvious, and it is so very childlike that the femme cannot help the wave of affection that courses through her.

turning back to brightkit, she nods to the girl's question. "aye, your mother and i are very good friends," she confirms, before bending down and glancing sneakily about. "i knew her even before your dad did!" eyebrows wiggle, suggesting future storytimes full of embarrassing tales of buckgate's loner moons. smiling at the child, she straightens up again, making eye contact with lightningstone. "how are you doing, new dad?" she'll ask. "kids been keeping you busy?" ​

( THE LIGHT YOU GAVE ME )

 

[brookstorm]

Brook-kit rights herself only to pat her nose with a kitten-soft paw, eyebrows furrowed as she tries to gauge what exactly went wrong. Meadowkit deftly points out her fall, but shortly after tips her a question that she's not too sure on how to respond. His paw clumsily finds her shoulder and she's quick to place her own paw down once again, to keep them both from tumbling over. She shakes her head, deciding that if Meadowkit is energetic, she most certainly is not. "No," she states shortly after.

It's not long after that Brook-kit finally notices the ginger paw held out to her, and the concerned face it's attached to. She tilts her head again, examining Fernpaw's outstretched limb before offering it a healthy bat in response. She had already righted herself and thus didn't need the help, however given how long it took for her to notice the apprentice in general, it wouldn't be a surprise if he had been waiting for a reply for a few long moments. Speaking of - "Yeah, okay. Not energetic, though. That's Meadowkit. Or - uh..." she turns to her sister, squinting as she tries to recall any of the conversation that gave her a defining trait. Frankly, she can't, having been previously distracted by Smokethroat's tail. She shrugs, "Or Brightkit. I'm Brook-kit," she tops off, looking up towards Fernpaw again.​

 

[hyacinthbreath]

"Strong kits, Lightningstone. I remember when mine were this small." You weren't there for their birthing though, you piece of shit. She's reminded then of how she'd left them for a patrol instead, choosing her duties over her kits and ruining any chance of her becoming Moonshadow's mate. She was merely the sire to the kits, but she had broken her promise to her kits by leaving them behind in such a cruel Clan. "I'm Hyacinthbreath, little ones. You may call me Hya, ja?" She leans down to dip her head in greeting, though she stops half-way to give more space for the new father. Buckgait should be healing from the birth now, thankfully. "Is Buckgait alright? Hopefully not too tired."​

❝ there are wounds inside me, gaping holes of disconnect.
can you drown inside your own body? can you suffocate within this mind? ❞

 

[SMOKESTAR]

He watches the kits wander, toddle, becomes acutely aware of one inching her way along toward him and his tail twitches encouragingly to the first signs of a possible skill in hunting but they were still kits and it was no surprise when she went nose first into the ground. The dark tom gives a small snort of a noise, an amused laugh held back and his face only briefly wavering from its neutral facade of not caring. If he even breathed near one of these kits Buckgait would scream and throw a tantrum over something so while he noticed Willowroot's look he paid it no mind. He didn't play, he observed. He wasn't interested in the cinnamon molly taking a swipe at him for his mere existence so he instead lashed his tail and let it drag on the ground.
"On your paws. Try again." They seemed determined, at least. He can not help the sharp burning stare that glances over them in an almost critical manner. This was their first new litter in a while, they might not have another anytime soon and he is already feeling the loss of his apprentice. Perhaps one of these? Though he had a feeling the ex-deputy might pitch a fit in response. Not that he cared. There was promise in these river born children, their father was a good and loyal example of a proper warrior even if their mother was...something else. He had hopes for them.
​