WindClan Nursery

[gs29513]

 

Originally Posted by Oliver

Crowkit
| He/him | WC Kit | Moons: 1 | Purrks: None |

Crowkit let out a small huff as he allowed the big cat to nudge him up onto his paws again after the tumble. He gave his chest a tiny lick after returning to his slightly unstable paws, the dirt from the tumble getting mixed up in his russet and grey fur and it was a uncomfy bad feeling that's what it was. He grinned up at the older cat, "I'm Crowkit! I'm named after uncle Crow! And my mama is mamabird and my papa is papahawk... and my siblings are Egg..er.. Egggreetkit and Gacklekit." He explained happily, he quite liked his little family! Even if he had troubles with both of his littermate's names he would get better at saying them soon enough. Though his attention was soon wrapped up in the explanation of hunting that the cat offered him.

"I can be sneaky!! I'm the sneakiest!" He crouched down again, still just about as awful as last time, but rather than attempting to pounce forward and sequentially send his muzzle straight into the dirt, he instead decided to crawl about trying to show off being sneaky. "See! I'm the sneakiest kit here! After all I have to be, because I like..." The kitten paused in his words as he turned to look about around the two of them before leaning forward towards the older cat and stage whispering, "I like to play tricks!"

Crowkit. After Crowtooth, no doubt. He and Bravebird and Hawkfur were buddies, the little older fury crowd. Occasionally Deadmoon was a bit jealous of them, with the respect they commanded and the families they had and friends and connections and shoulders to lean on. Shoulders that were fast being yanked away from her. But poor little Crowkit didn't need, or deserve, to have her irritation vented upon him in any way. He was just doing his little kit things, unaware of the weight his name might carry.

Deadmoon wondered about her kits. If she would ever have them. She wouldn't make a good mother, that was for certain, but the thought had always....sort of appealed to her. She liked younger cats more than older ones, anyway. And even when they were grown up, she could be so proud of the cats they had become despite her corrupting influence. Look at Snowybreeze. Still her friend (her only friend now) and an amazing cat, if a bit too nice. What would she name them? After friends and family gone? She felt she would have to, it would only be right. Those you had lost were only truly gone when their names were no longer spoken, and through names could be given a second life. Wolffang would have one, of course. Breezefeather, too, deserved a second incarnation, a eulogy. Rookscreech, maybe Marigoldpaw. But this was idle thought, of no consequence. She would not have kits, for she would be a terrible mother. That was that, and she would be content with the pseudo children she found in Snowybreeze and Owlpaw.

Back to the poor kit. Crowkit is a very nice name. she mewed solemnly. And Egretkit and Gracklekit are very nice names as well. All of them are very fierce names, befitting of great warriors. She actually had no thoughts about the significance of the names beyond that of Crowkit, but kits liked to hear they were destined for greatness. Stars knew she had needed to hear that at that age, instead of the drivel about being useless she had received. But these unhappy thoughts were quickly driven away by the similarly atrocious crouch the little tom effected. Deadmoon, predictably, guffawed again.

What are you trying to sneak after, a blind badger? she huffed, afterwards rather hoping that the barbed insult in her exclamation would be beyond the kits understanding. So she was venting some bitterness after all. Tricks, however, was something she could get behind. Deadmoon quite enjoyed a little joke, though generally more of the verbal variety. Physical comedy could be quite suiting however, if the situation presented itself. What kind of tricks do you like to play, Crowkit? It's not like you can go out of camp to get thorns or anything. Not being the most creative mind filling a nest with thorns was about the extent of her tricking knowledge, but perhaps this kit had something in his mind replacing the space that should be taken up by how to sneak.