camp MAKE IT MAKE SENSE ➤ INTRO

[ANTKIT]

Morning light spills into the hollow of WindClan's camp, washing over tufts of frost-laced grass and setting the moorland's golden slopes aglow. The air bites sharp and cold, but within the camp's walls, life stirs with the faint rustle of nests and murmured greetings as cats begin to rise and stretch the leaf-bare stiffness from their limbs.

Near the nursery's entrance, a small black shape shifts against the pale frost-touched earth. Antkit crouches low, his thin tail flicking with restless energy as he watches the early morning bustle with round, unblinking eyes. The white mark on his nose stands out sharply against his dark fur, twitching faintly as he scents the air. His chest rises and falls in steady silence, no soft mews of curiosity or impatient chirps breaking the air—only the faint crunch of frost beneath his paws as he shifts his weight.

A distant flicker of movement draws his gaze—someone stirring near the fresh-kill pile—and his ears prick forward, gaze narrowing with interest. For a moment, he hesitates, tension coiling in his small frame. Then, without warning, he bolts forward with quick, unsteady steps, kicking up tiny flecks of frost as he skids to a halt just shy of the gathered prey. His eyes gleam with something sharp—curiosity, challenge, or perhaps both—as he stands there, small but unflinching.

No sound leaves him, no chirp of greeting or soft murmur to announce his presence. Instead, Antkit lifts his head and meets the gaze of the nearest cat with a silent, expectant stare—his tail flicking once, sharply, as if daring them to make the first move.

( ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ ) I'd rather hate you instead

• ANTKIT WINDCLAN KITTEN ; HE / HIM; LITTERMATE TO UNNAMED KIT ; MENTORED BY NONE
  

  Small and wiry, Antkit is a lean tom with sleek black fur, broken only by a white drop on his nose, tail tip, and one front paw. His movements are sharp and purposeful, his expressive features and flicking tail making up for his inability to speak. Outwardly, he carries himself with bold confidence, but beneath the surface lies a deep insecurity and a fear of being overlooked. Fiercely independent and resourceful, he is both loyal and cynical, quick to act but slow to trust. His temperamental nature and sharp wit make him a difficult yet undeniably determined presence within WindClan.

  ➤ Peaceful and healing powerplay permitted, no killing, maiming, or injuring without permission
  ➤ Unexperienced and untrained
  ➤ All "speech" is internal thought only, born mute

 

[Asterpaw]

Vaguely, in the corners of her mind, Asterkit can remember a time when she was a smaller, helpless denizen of the nursery, watched by curious glances from kittens older and bigger than herself. Time had passed since then, she was no longer the young kit, but rather the older kit, watching with amusement at her younger denmates.

Asterkit knows Antkit scantly. There are a few moons between them in terms of age, and though both kits, they are both at vastly different stages of their young lives. He's a small little thing but fast too. Asterkit watched with amusement as he bolted towards the fresh-kill pile from out of the nursery, moving like a blur. She thinks he was planning to grab something and then retreat into the nursery with it but he doesn't;t, he just stands there, silently awaiting another clanmate to address him...or perhaps challenge him based on the look he gives. Asterkit pads up to the side of him - and if nobody knew he was there, they certainly would when she announced his presence by saying, "Heya, Antkit! What're you doing?"​

 

[Brackenscar]

She doesn't keep track of when the kits have eaten, though she assumes that surely they must have given the time of day and the fact that she herself had already eaten today. Though it doesn't stop anyone from looking at the prey pile, much less the kits getting hungry over the course of the day. Brackenscar assumes that's what's happening given Asterkit's presence at the prey pile. She admittently hadn't noticed the presence of Antkit until Asterkit announced it herself, they are careful to not show any recognition of that fact, tactfully choosing to glance from her to the black kit next to her as if she had been making an assessment. "Do you want something from the prey pile?" He is met with an expectant stare in return, waiting for him to say something. There's a beat before they realise that they actually haven't heard him say much before, they assume that he's just shy right now.

A small smirk finds her as she lowers into a crouch, to bow her head towards Antkit. "Are you even old enough to eat prey?" She asks with a small amused chuff, he was a spry little guy but she has to admit that they haven't kept track of the moons since his mothers passing. Part of them wondered if that just meant that things had been that busy lately or if she had been too wrapped up in her own dramas to properly pay her respects and mourn. It's a dour thought, one that they try to not dwell on as she tries to catch just what bit of frosted prey has caught his attention.

With a decisive huff she plucks it from the pile and places it down next to the pair. "It's only for eating, got it?" She knew that Asterkit would know better, given who her parents are. They just aren't sure if Antkit had been given a run down of the Warrior Code yet, even if it wasn't part of it she considered it just rather unsightly to tear prey apart like that.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ‎ OH, IM JUST A GIRL ꕥ WHATS MY DESTINY ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• ooc.
• 
• 
  Brackenscar ✩ They/she, Tunneler, 16 moons
  
  
  ⸙ A scowling, tiny calico with large ears.
  ⸙ Mentored by Scorchstar | Bluefrost.
  ⸙ Speech, thoughts, attacking.
  ⸙ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted ( underline and tag when attacking ).
  ⸙ All opinions are IC only.
  penned by Juice.
  

​

 

[FEATHERSPINE]

Antkit's eyes made him squirm. Featherspine saw Mosspool within them, inescapably— a cat he had once slung something snide toward, for the time she spent in the yawning mouth. Now, that criticism felt curdled... words spoken between himself and Pinkshine, and the tragic fate she had met, twisted his memories into flashes of sympathy. Despite his childish curiosity, nothing that spoke of some divine intelligence, something in Featherspine convinced her that Antkit knew ... knew she had never met his mother with any particular fondness, and had failed to let his barbs protect her, still.

Even more senseless did paranoia ring, at the sight of him... the unlikely but still-sickening future that may be. A single kitten, the show of a birth-mother's labour who now slept in the ground— irrational. It was irrational.

Featherspine found himself ever-battered by Brackenscar's stupid questions. "What else would he do with it?" she snorted, narrowing yellow eyes upon the kitten. If there was an intrinsic desire to strew its bones all about, perhaps that would speak of company to be avoided later in life... apart from that, what more could a kit do with something already dead, within camp's dull confines? ​

✦ penned by pin​

 

[MOLEKIT]

MOLEKIT

HE / HIM | WINDCLAN KIT

Under the nursery's shelter, the older kit can't help but watch the younger, golden gaze narrowed in contemplation.

In some ways, Antkit is like Molekit. Their beginnings harbor a shared tragedy, and their days thereafter are met with watchful gazes that will never be their mothers' own. Molekit remembers Mossthorn, if only briefly. He can't remember his own mother, hardly knows her name. Does he look like her, just as Antkit looks like Mossthorn?

He is quick, the dark tom realizes, as the smaller zooms forward on wavering limbs. Is he quicker than him? The question becomes a bigger problem than his last set. Of course not. Molekit is going to be a moor-runner one day, and a good one, too. As if trying to prove so, the kitten darts forward to follow the younger's trail. His paws skid to a stop, only a whisker-length short of tumbling into Brackenscar. The scent of prey fills his senses. Was Antkit hungry? Is that why he'd bolted? Suddenly, his own stomach growls.

" I'm old enough! " Molekit squeaks out to Brackenscar, before his gaze locks on the meal the warrior places before Antkit and Asterkit. " Can I have some? Please? " He looks to the night-furred kit, the ghost of his mother found in the darkening gaze he meets.

" You'll let me have some, won't you? "

Molekit, in constant need of a bath, is almost always carrying some sort of mud or grass in unkempt, tufted black fur. Easily excitable, a bright, yellow gaze lights his way towards puddles and mishap, and a stomp of sodden paws guides his otherwise stubborn nature.

- Featherstep † x ??? ; Adopted by Ferndance ⋅ Single
- Only child
- Mentored by no one ⋅ Mentor to no one
- Penned by Abri