- Apr 3, 2024
- 25
- 5
- 3
Being a kitten in ThunderClan. Wolfkit had never known hunger, part of that could be attributed to the fresh-kill pile. The options for food were limitless, if they wanted a bird, they could have a bird. If they wanted a rodent, they need only ask and a warrior would provide. It was easy being spoiled, but their demands had scarcely been as frequent since learning (or, rather, erroneously deducing) that prey went to StarClan. As tasty as fresh kill was, Wolfkit did not know how they would explain to the countless animals up there that they had preferred them dead instead of alive because if someone had said the same to them, they'd have been very sad. They might have also been sad that someone was using their corpse in a game, but boredom was the enemy of morality in the kitten's mind, and when everyone in the camp was too busy to play with them, they decided to make their own fun.
Despite the prosperity of greenleaf, the fresh-kill pile was larger than usual, bumpier even, as if whoever had stocked it had little concept of how to balance things. A dove slid down a pile of mice and voles like a tumbling stone upon a mountain, landing on the floor below temptingly. With any luck, it would bring a clanmate closer to the fresh-kill pile - when such a thing occurred, the whole hill of food began to shift. Wolfkit half-jumped out of the pile, lower half weighed down by whatever prey they had buried themselves in, upper half dynamic and quick as they grinned menacingly. "Boo!" They'd shout at whoever they thought they could scare. Wolfkit aimed to wrap their paws around whoever was closest and bite their leg without breaking skin. "Caught you!"