camp No One’s Enough (stressing) Not Even You

[Shinebug]

As the days passed and the moon made its slow dance across the sky, excitement had turned to anguish. As the moment he would be made an apprentice approached, a snake had coiled itself around the cat’s throat. Always an early riser, the few times Shinekit had slept in were now met with harsh self-scolding. Apprentices weren’t supposed to oversleep, after all. It was a habit the shaft of sunlight would have to break before it led to inevitable disappointment in his future instructor.

A constant bane to queens thanks to endless reserves of energy, Shinekit was now making a concerted effort to appear more mature. Apprentices were supposed to respect their elders. Apprentices were supposed to be useful. Apprentices who ticked those boxes and much more were rewarded with praise and social standing, those who didn’t might as well not exist.

This peculiar mindset towards his role in Thunderclan had led directly to the latest dilemma. It was nearly noon, and Shinekit had been up since dawn focused on one thing: his pelt. The flame-tinted furball had never bothered grooming himself before, but the approaching milestone had made him acutely aware of any minor flaw. And this one was certainly minor.

Shinekit’s pelt might as well have been a mirror, smooth as a pool of ice in leaf-bare. All except for one tuft stubbornly (and, to him, terrifyingly) sticking out on his side. The shaft of sunlight was growing desperate. He’d been licking it for so long he felt like his tongue was about to fall off, yet it still refused to lie flat. A tiny mind began to run with wild fantasies, and soon the child was practically in tears. “What if it’s like this forever?” he whined to no one in particular. “what am I gonna do?” ​

 

[DOVEPAW!]

.you want a battle —————————

————————— i'll give you war.

▵ ———————— ◮ ———————— ▵

THE FRECKLED TOM HUMMED SOFTLY, STARING UP AT THE SKY with curious hues until Shinekit’s voice rang, head turned to stare at the other, blinking owlishly. Oh? The apprentice gravitated towards the other, offering the distressed kit a tentative grin. “I, I’m sure it won’t.” He offered, choosing to sit beside the other.

Owlish optics gravitated toward the one tuft that remained stubborn, tail reaching to rest softly against his shoulder. He offered, darkened lips curled into a soft-hearted smile. He understood the bundle of nervousness when he’d been a kit, having been held back a moon as punishment to watching his siblings move on as he remained, gut-churning in self-loathing.

Dove kneaded the ground, head cocked, owlish optics crinkling. “S, Sometimes e, everyone has a … a b, bad day.” He started. “I, It’s perfectly n, normal! E, even the w, warriors!” He giggled, nose crinkling. He had been a nervous wreck on the day of his ceremony, no doubt making a fool of himself as he stumbled over his paws, willing his stomach to calm down before he threw up in front of his clan. The black-and-white tom winced at the memory.

“L, Let me h, help?”

thoughts speech​

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[Flycatcher]

"Don't worry little one, I often struggle with my wayward fur too!" Flycatcher chuckled in amusement at Shinekit's predicament as he passed by. Flycatcher's fur was long but not overly so, a sort of midpoint between short and long fur. All his life his pelt had been what one might describe as a bit scruffy. It was clean of course but despite great efforts from Flycatcher to get it to lie smoothly it had just never happened. No matter how hard he tried, tufts of fur always refused to lie flat. Flycatcher casts a sympathetic look at the younger tom, dipping his head appreciatively to Dovepaw for his attempts to soothe the kit. "It will get better in time hopefully," Flycatcher attempted to reassure Shinekit. "You are still young and growing, however! You never know what might change with the passing moons."​

 

[Shinebug]

Skittish sky-blue eyes spotted Owlpaw as he approached, reassuring words falling on deaf ears. “how do you know that? You can’t see the future!” Shinekit spouted, panic pushing common sense to the sidelines. The kit regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, though, not wishing to disrespect his better. “sorry…” he mumbled as the apprentice sat down next to him, eyes on the ground.

When the flame-tinted feline felt the tail resting on his shoulder, for a fleeting second he wanted to pull away, worried that any touch would result in yet more rebellious fur forcing its way out of alignment. However, Shinekit found himself fond of the other’s comfort, and made a conscious effort to relax. A few deep breaths later and now a little calmer, the cat turned towards Owlpaw. “I get that,” he said with a sigh, “but i’m a big kid now! I’m supposed to keep together better than…this.” The sentence did nothing but show how little the solar-hued halfwit still was. “Knock yourself out” he huffed, turning his body to give Owlpaw easier access to the errant clump.

As Flycatcher’s advice made itself known, Shinekit couldn’t help but burn with self-consciousness as he looked down at his pelt in a new way. It was long, entirely too long. His mother had told him it was because the boy had stolen the sun’s flames and grafted them into fur, but that didn’t make it any less uncomfortable. The kit had never minded his fur, taking the constant feel of heat and sight of hair in stride, but trying to groom the monster had made him grow to hate it. Flycatcher’s words were an attempt at reassurance, but the puny cat interpreted them as pity. “I wish it would fall off” he grumbled, still blowing the whole business out of proportion.​

 

[crowflower]

From the opposite side of camp, Crowflower has spent the better part of ten minutes watching Shinekit's desperate attempt to tame the singular tuft of fur which stood proud like a cardinal's crest. She smiles to herself, amused by his perseverance and consequent dismay at the futility of his efforts. Her good humor is bolstered by Shinekit's exasperated tirade on what "big kids" are supposed to be doing. "What does that say about me, then?" she muses as she finally walks over to join the small congregation. If Big Kids are supposed to be properly groomed, then Crowflower is a failure. The feathery tufts of her black and white pelt have long been snarled and tangled by debris. Wrenflutter and Killdeercry often aided their sister in attempts to smooth her unruly pelt, but Crowflower always seemed to get it dirty again shortly after. After so many moons of life, she has given up on the unattainable goal of clean, sleek fur. It is all she can do to keep it from matting. "Besides," she continues, a kind smile dancing on her lips. "It's cute." With his frustrated pout and the rebellious tuft, Shinekit looked like a grumpy little duckling. She glances at Dovepaw, remembering when her nephew was that small and cute. He still is, but she decides not to embarrass him with the compliment.​