sky painted black || trespassing kit

[oakpaw]

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// cw implied harm to children and ... uh ... coarse language
if he's taken in then this name won't be permanent of course

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he's small. he's young enough that he shouldn't even be weaned yet, but nobody's ever cared about that. HE doesn't care about that. he doesn't care about anything at all.

just seven weeks, he can do more than toddle but he can't do much. he doesn't really know how vulnerable he is, so little, so barely-alive. may as well be prey wandering the forest but he doesn't know that either. he doesn't know much at all besides his name — and only knows that because they say it to him so much. dogbait, stupid little dogbait. they aren't nice, they're never nice, he's never ever going back there — they're assholes, th-they're fucking awful, they're mangy rats, they're — they're — those are all the bad words he can think of right now. he will come up with more later.

he's so dirty, absolutely ragged, tiny fleabitten thing stumbling the forest floor with teeth bared. never ever EVER going back. they'll never find him out here. fucking — maggots! worms! he hates them! he hates them.

dogbait squeaks and snarls, baby-hisses at everything that moves, everything that makes a sound. it's morning, early morning. the sky is awake and he doesn't want to be. he slipped into a puddle and got wet earlier and now he keeps shivering and it makes him so, so mad. rage twists up the boy's tiny face as he staggers through underbrush, clambering over twigs with little stub legs — he wants somewhere to lie down — he wants a dark place to hide — he wants the shivering to go away he wants EVERYTHING TO STOP.

he does not get what he wants.

instead he encounters a group of cats: a thunderclan patrol, but those words would mean nothing to him even if he heard them. all dogbait knows is that they're BIG, big cats, much bigger than him. they are dangerous. they are horrible, crawling maggots, pieces of shit, they — they — ! he summons that snarl again, rears up on his hind legs and hisses, all hackles raised, furious little vermin. (he is so filthy. he is so small.)

"GO AWAY!" he screams the loudest scream he can muster, furious squeak at best, teeth bared in a horrible snarl. one tries to approach him or so he thinks, anyway, and terror ratchets his heartrate up, rabbit-quick in his chest. no no no no no no no no no no. "GO AWAY — GET AWAY FROM ME — F-FUCKING NASTY M- MAGGOTS LEAVE ME ALONE — " dogbait scrambles back the best he can but fear won't let him turn around, so it's clumsy, stumbling, shuffling backward on sick weak legs. his voice is cracking, crumbling.

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brown tabby with white. mangy, scruffy-looking. 7 weeks, ages on the 1st.

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[HOWLINGSTAR]

Howlingstar leads the patrol, and it's a boring one so far. She doesn't mind. Boring is good, boring means there's nothing she needs to worry about. Excitement, whether it be at borders or face-to-face with a predator or rogue, is dangerous. So the fact that her ears are side-turned, her eyes are half-lidded, her tail sweeps the ground gently...it's good. Uneventful is just how she likes it.

It doesn't stay that way for long. The patrol steps through a clump of ferns and comes upon a kit. Howlingstar stops, stunned. She fixes the scraggly child with a shocked look, brows raised and tail lifting in confusion. "Wha-" Oh stars, he's screaming. He spits and hisses and fumbles backwards, even yowling obscenities at the ThunderClanners. At the age he's at, she's surprised he can even put together full sentences; he's so little his eyes still bear that kitten-blue, his body is learning how to move, evident in how he stumbles. She parts her jaws and tastes no clan-scent, only the stench of twolegs. Her nose wrinkles in protest at the disgusting smell. Kittypet? "Calm down, calm down," She urges, maternal voice rising in volume to try and be heard over his loud protests. "We're not going to hurt you, little one!" The older woman pads forward, ears pressing forward and kind eyes searching his own. She's wondering how in StarClan a kittypet kit of this age to wander all the way out there. ThunderClan is not near the Twolegplace; had he cross this entire length of land by himself?​

 

[nightbird]

she follows alongside howlingstar, ears pricked despite the quiet nature of the patrol. tensions seemed to grow every day, she refused to be caught off guard. they come across something that looks like nothing other than a speck of fur. she expects to pass it, not yet recognizing it as a child. but then it shrieks and shouts. calling them nasty, maggots. screaming at them to go away. her lip curls at the outburst, ears downturned as to try and block out the shrieking of the child. it was barely old enough to leave it's mother, how did it make it here? surely a hawk or fox would have ran off with it by now.

the leader tries to calm it, promising that it was safe at their paws. her tail flicked. it had no clan scent, but it was hard to believe he was a kittypet given the nature of his pelt. "kid can sure yell," she remarked to another member of the patrol, her ears remaining back in case the kit tried to squawk her ears off again.​

[ ☾✩ ]​

 

[oakpaw]

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˗ˏˋ he does not have the words to explain his journey. he does not know the name of the monster he climbed out of, or what the thunderpath is called, the one at their border — he doesn't know how far is too far for a kit to go, doesn't know about places and distances between them.

he just knows that these cats are BIG and they are scary and this one's coming toward him, talking to him, what is she going to do to him — ?

calm down, she tells him. little one, she calls him. that isn't what he's called.

"I'M — I'M NOT LITTLE ONE!" he mewls, bristling, hissing, spitting. don't come near don't come near don't come near. "i'm dogbait." his name, the only thing he has. he doesn't know what it means. he doesn't know what it sounds like. "you! bad — bad nasty maggots! don't bite don't scratch bad BAD BAD! GO AWAY FROM DOGBAIT!"

don't hurt me, he's screaming, in the only language he knows.

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brown tabby with white. 7 weeks old
— how could you love this wretched creature ´ˎ˗

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[FALCONPAW]

જ➶ He is allowed to be out now with others. He is a big boy! An apprentice and while he is adjusting to everything he is excited all the same. As quickly toddles after Howlingstar the four moon old kit sways his tail from side to side. His muzzle, however, scrunches up as soon as they run into someone else. A kit it seems and one that he is unsure about given the circumstances and his own hackles raise up as his eyes widen a bit. Especially with the words he spews towards his leader. Howlingstar is not a maggot! He feels a small pulse of anger and the young apprentice flounders for a moment, overly large paws smacking against the ground as he attempts to find words through his emotions. "Hey! Hey! You stop it! Take that back! Howlingstar is no maggot and you are using bad words!" His tail snaps from one side to the other as he attempts to make himself look bigger too.

Glancing to his leader the youth wrinkles his nose then as he shakes his head. "He smells..." He tries to kind of whisper but he also wants the small baby to hear too. He is afterall upset at him and he doesn't like him or his antics. ​

 

[LICHENPAW ❁]

( ☘ ) Lichenpaw had fallen behind on the patrol, but the sound of yelling draws him. A young voice, a kit, screaming terror and profanity. His paws gain speed, and he comes upon the rest of the patrol clamored around a kit, scrawny and filthy. The familiar stench of twoleg trash fills his nose, bringing Lichenpaw back to a time not so long passed, to a life he fled from. A child like this was not a strange sight in those days, abandoned for some reason or another -- too hard to care for, usually. Food was scarce, and it took a lot to care for a child. He knew few cats, in those days, whose kithoods had been kind. His own certainly had not been.

But the Clan-Cats don't seem to understand. Perhaps Howlingstar's approach would work, had this child known kindness enough to expect it, but it seems clear that he has not. That's fine, Lichenpaw can handle this. First off-- "Falconpaw," he hisses, trying to shove the younger apprentice with his shoulder. "Back off." His voice is low, pointed. His grin falls as he catches Falconpaw's eye, a deadset determination as he tries to convince Falconpaw of the gravity of this actions. He's only making things worse. He raises his voice, then, looks around to the other cats. "Give Dogbait some space." They're careful to use the kit's name -- he seems insistent about it, and Lichenpaw certainly understands the importance of names. The kit's name is strange, sure. Insulting, certainly. But if that's what he wants to be called, that's what Lichenpaw will call him.

He turns to the kit then. Dogbait is a fierce thing, bared-teeth snapping despite his tiny frame. Lichenpaw's smile returns, softer than usual, sharp edges sanded by the aching familiarity that burns his chest. He keeps distance, lowers himself to a crouch so he can look the child in the eyes. He's already smaller than the others, barring Falconpaw, young and still somewhat twolegplace-scrawny. "No one here is going to um, bite you. Or scratch you. Okay, Dogbait?" He says it genuinely, far softer than he thought he was capable of. He hopes the kit will understand.

"You came here from the -- the place with the uh, stone paths and the big monsters right?" Twolegplace, he means. He's sure the kit doesn't know the word. Thunderpath, he says by accident. You cannot have one without the other. "I'm -- I did too. This place isn't like that though, you're safe here. No one is going to hurt you, Dogbait." I won't let anyone hurt you again, he means.​

 

[HOWLINGSTAR]

Howlingstar flinches back as the child begins to hiss and spit again, his screaming continues in a flurry. She casts a glance back at Nightbird, ears flat and eyes wide with confusion. She'd never seen a kit act so hostile and afraid! What in StarClan happened to him? Falconpaw, young as he is, attempts to leap to her defense and he scolds the scared child. "It's alright, Falconpaw," She mews gently, laying her tail across his shoulders. Lichenpaw strides forward and hisses, even commands the rest of them. She gives him a look; she's not taking well to the disrespect the young tom is showing but she can at least see he's trying to help.

She turns her attention back to Dogbait as the apprentice speaks softly to him. Head ducked, she takes another cautious step towards him, eager to get him to a safe place. She's a mother, a grandmother - the sight of such a scrawny, scared, dirty child out here alone is enough to break her heart. "Lichenpaw is right, you're safe here. May we take you back to our home?" She coos gently, a frown pulling at her lips in pity. He needs a queen's tongue and milk, immediately. He's fortunately still small enough to carry, and she will gladly do so every step of the way if she must.​

 

[oakpaw]

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˗ˏˋ dogbait is snapping, hissing, snarling, squeaking more curses — everything his little body can manage. falconpaw says something — yells something — dogbait flinches hard, his whole body recoiling, and he responds with a drawn-out, wordless squeal of fury.

go away go away go away GO AWAY —

another approaches and it's just too much. too much. he has to run, he has to .... he has to ... something. he is reminded of paws bigger than his whole body, grabbing him and hurting hurting HURTING. no ... no ... he can't. not again.

... but this one speaks more gently. like the first did. AND he uses dogbait's name. caught by surprise, the kitten listens with very wide eyes, hackles still raised.

no one is going to bite you or scratch you .... no one is going to hurt you. dogbait narrows his eyes, bares his teeth in another snarl, lashes his tail. "YES YOU WILL!" he screams. what... else would they do?

howlingstar takes another step forward. dogbait scrambles back with everything in him, driven by sheer panic — but he has traveled so far without any food, any rest, and he was so hurt already before that. he hobbles for about three steps before his little legs give out, the world tilting and blackening around him. he's unconscious by the time he hits the ground.

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brown tabby with white / 7 weeks old
how could you love this wretched creature ´ˎ˗

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[HOWLINGSTAR]

She pauses again, seeing him scramble backwards as she grows closer. Her ears fall flat, concern evident on her face. "It's okay, it-" Dogbait tumbles over and she straightens, ears now flicking forward attentively. She throws a wide-eyed look towards her clanmates before rushing forward the rest of the way. "He needs to see Berryheart," She mews urgently, nosing his tiny form a bit with her muzzle before fastening her teeth in his scruff. She hoists him into the air, grunting just a bit. He's getting a bit too big for this, but just small enough where it's not impossible. "Run ahead and alerf himb," She instructs Lichenpaw through the kit's pelt, knowing he'll be much faster than she can be while carrying Dogbait.​

 

[LICHENPAW ❁]

( ☘ ) Alright, maybe he went a little too far in hissing and shoving, but Falconpaw was making things worse! And clearly, no one here knew what they were doing. Howlingstar certainly made the best effort, but leader or not she is still fallible. He earns a look from her, stern and displeased, for taking charge, and he tries not to flinch. He doesn't get what he did wrong (other than the aforementioned pushiness, of course) but still he feels a pit in his stomach. Howlingstar won't hurt him, he reminds himself. The kit is more important, though -- he holds the same fear they do, yet he has no reason to believe it untrue. Lichenpaw pushes his nervousness from his mind and quickly moves on to consoling Dogbait.

Lichenpaw is able to quiet the kit for a bit, hold his attention -- good, they're getting somewhere -- but he's quick to start hissing and yelling again. Not unexpected, he didn't think it'd be that easy. But then Howlingstar starts to approach again and -- Lichenpaw watches as the kit stumbles away, terrified, before collapsing to the ground. He bites back his frustration as the leader tries to remedy her mistake with words. He told her to give the kit space. But she's the leader, she's the strongest, so she has final say. He's just an apprentice, after all.

The kit is unconscious now, and Lichenpaw finally straightens, a small sigh escaping his lips. Only now does his concern show on his face; it crumples, comforting facade gone in an instant. Howlingstar is quick to take the kit. She'll be bringing him back to camp -- good -- though Lichenpaw can't imagine Dogbait will take the influx of strangers well. He's hesitant to leave the half-starved kit's side, but the leader tells him to alert Berryheart, and he can't deny that it's a good idea. With a nod, he's off, long legs speeding through the now well-worn path back to camp.


// out!​