camp who, what, where, when | “why?”

[budkit]

She feels emboldened on this lovely greenleaf day. So much so that the point kitten wanders far from the nursery… away from the watchful eye of her mother. She knows not to toddle beyond the walls of camp (Oleanderkit had been stopped by mama when she tried to leave) and she has already seen the warrior’s den (thank you Doeblaze). Now her sights are set on the medicine den.

She scampers past a warrior and his kitten ward (Budkit remembers seeing Ghostkit in the nursery but she has not met Duskpool to her knowledge) on the way to her destination. A kinked tail waves in greeting as she tunes out whatever they may have said to her. Not out of disrespect, rather she is too focused on where she is going to listen to much of anything. And if they wish to tag along with her then the more the merrier!

The strong scent adds to the allure of adventure as Budkit nears the entrance of the den. Sapphire blues peer inside and fuzzy ebony ears perk high atop her head. “Woah,” Budkit chirps, a multi toed paw testing the boundaries and entering. She doesn’t get more than a couple of steps in before she is met with equally blue gaze centered on a face of cinnamon and cream. “Hewwo! Why smell in hewe? Why you in hewe? What dis? And dat?” Budkit asks in rapid succession, a large mittened paw aiming to tap on Dawnglare’s leg first before pointing to the walls and recesses holding the herbs and treatments utilized by the medicine cats.

// @DAWNGLARE @DUSKPOOL @Ghostkit but no need to wait :3c​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[DUSKPOOL]

don't raise your voice . improve your argument .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Looks like Budkit ain’t up to somethin’ good. He thought amusedly, watchin’ the tiny thing scamper past ‘em. “Come on, kiddo, why don’t we go see what her nursery mate is gettin’ up to, eh?” He rumbled, nudgin’ his granddaughter along with a languid swish of his tail, wispy strands flutterin’ whimsically with the motion.

“Slow down there, kiddo, Dawnglare ain’t gonna know what yer sayin’ if ya don’t give him time to speak.” He mused, steppin’ inside the ( unfortunately ) familiar den after several injuries leadin’ him here. He fought back a wince, turnin’ a molten hue toward the two kits, both equally curious, though he had to wonder if Ghostkit would join in on the spew of questions.

“Yer smellin’ the herbs, kiddo.” He muttered, timbre a low, rumbled drawl. “And that there tom is one of the medicine cats that helps heal our clanmates when they do somethin’.” Stupid is what Duskpool wanted to say. ​

​

thought speech​

 

[DAWNGLARE]

Restlessness squeezes him by the throat. Blue lagoons are held captive by little more than miasma, static mix of one - too - many gut - wrenching things. Things he's lost, things he's forgotten... His pacing is aimless, slipping past herb and root. Claws at some point slid from their sheathes in a desperate ploy to plunge at the ground; keep him steady. A prayer is held just at the end of his tongue, but even an inner - dialogue bubbles too strangely for him to get out the words. He can only manage it in a distant chant. Help me, please. His head swings toward a used nest, fit for two. It has not smelled of WindClan for some time now, and yet he startles. Blinks. Remembers things that he would much rather not. Bonds broken. Lives ruined... Oh, he searches for his loves, scratches wantingly at Mother's caked flesh. His head swings towards his den's entrance, wanting for pearly fangs, or perhaps a glimpse of that shining sun...

He pauses. He double takes. There tears a tiny trespasser. A tired tom trudges in tow. Dawnglare's eye gives this... little twitch. Disbelief stretches lakes into moons — moons into lakes? How would one judge the berth of a cold thing, so very far away... Like this, up close, a large head coming to hover above a kittish body, he can tell she is no lake or moon. Hewwo, comes the grub - like greeting. Dawnglare nearly returns it, but soon thinks better of himself. The press of a paw makes his pelt prickle, perturbed... Seraphic gaze blinks owlishly at the morsel. The frustration that comes is no fire, but lava churning to a steady rise... Smoke from his nose, his ears, his mouth. A mouth that snaps jumbled warnings, now. One that might not mind the taste of blood, in this instant. " So brave, for someone I could swallow so easily... " he grunts. A velvet tail moves snakelike behind him.

His gaze snaps upward to the one in tow. One who, most unfortunately, he would not be able to snap up quite as quickly. Lower lids tug at the sight of him. Thin ice, he seeks to communicate, then. Sniffle-less kits were not welcome, here.

But he'd make this one exception. Keep jaws hinged now. (For whom? He longed for the sky... She slumbered without ears... Where would a taste of kitten blood land him with Orangestar? He finds that he cares shockingly little...) Leery eyes flick from side to side, suddenly paranoid... He's being spoken to. Being spoken of. One of the Medicine Cats, he says. It makes his stomach drop. Puts a quiver in his lip and his legs both. He thinks to lean forward and whisper: The better paws for your life to be in would be mine... but would that be the truth?

" L-look at this face... " is what he settles for, fixing Budkit as if he were a beacon atop an aimless expanse. It was truth. Truth, it was. " Learn it well. It may save your life, someday. " Dis and dat, gestured to unknowingly. He rumbles. Agonizing eyes loosen their hold, though his voice then sharpens. " Not to be touched, " first and foremost... Softer, then, " It's... salvation, dear. " Such sweetness drags back memories... None of them by SkyClan's will.​

 

[budkit]

She has wandered into the lion’s den with curiosity at her bow and innocence in her sails. Bravery one could say, naivety another could posit. Youthfulness has not soured her existence - sealed eyes and ears had shielded her from the horrors of bloodshed. Budkit only knew the ‘thwack’ of a kittenish paw upon her crown after she bit another. The sting of scolding from a sister, a mother, a could be friend…

She looks to Dawnglare not with fear in oceanic depths, but with wonder.

Behind her Duskpool speaks. He answers her inquiries with gruff timbre. There’s a softness to his words, a gentleness imbued as he guides his granddaughter into the lion’s den in Budkit’s wake. Ebony ears swivel at the explanation, soaking them in with understanding. However deep blues keep her captivated. Snakelike tail a hypnotic beacon. ‘So brave, for someone I could swallow so easily…’

She giggles.

“You can’t swawwow Budkit… Budkit too big,” she muses, corrects, in the face of Dawnglare. Bravery… Stupidity masquerading in play pretend and a sheltered life. The kitten does not understand the danger - the disturbance she is causing. Doeblaze led her into the warrior’s den under the pretense of fun and exploration. Certainly Dawnglare and Duskpool would provide the same (she doesn’t know any better).

‘L-Look at this face… Learn it well. It may save your life, someday,’ the tom, the medicine cat (one of them, she learns) speaks. Budkit watches Dawnglare closely. Her wandering paw, the very one that had tapped his foreleg and pointed out the adornments of the walls, rests beside the other in patient waiting. “Why save Budkit? What is wif-wh-wl… life?” The pointed child asks, enunciates carefully in the face of her could be savior. The ‘dis’ and ‘dats’ are not to be touched, earning Dawnglare another quiet “why?” from the inquisitive child.

‘It’s… salvation, dear.’

“Sawl… Sal-vay-shun” Budkit echos to herself. The word awes her. The way it had been spoken to her awes her. It feels like the flesh of a forbidden fruit upon her tongue. Oceanic eyes behold the herbs and remedies for a moment, curious and reverent, before turning back to the medicine cat before her. “What is dat? Sal-vay-shun?” she asks - a final question for the open mawed lion before her. ​

[ penned by kerms ]​