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Post by valleylight on Apr 25, 2019 10:33:32 GMT -5
The Little Duality: Two Accounts of Choice ***
What if a single decision could determine a cat's fate?
What if two could determine the fate of every cat, for generations?
Two Accounts.
Of a kit whose destiny is linked inexorably to the stars. Of a family rent by ambition and deceit.
Of a brother trapped within the repercussions of others' actions. For what if two accounts were truly the accounts of all?
***
I wish none of this had ever happened...
Table of Contents:Prologue Chapter 1: Reeds, Stars, and Kitten-Steps Chapter 2: (Coming Soon)
Allegiances
FoxClanLeader: Hollystar- Black she-cat with sharp green eyes Deputy: Mudwhisker- Mottled brown-and-ginger tabby tom (Apprentice: Lightpaw) Medicine Cat: Rippleclaw- Long-furred gray-and-white tomWarriors Leopardtail: Battle-scarred, golden-brown tabby she-cat (Apprentice: Robinpaw) Owlfeather: Brown tabby tom with amber eyes Tawnycloud: Mottled ginger she-catRedwhisker: Ginger tabby she-cat with leaf-green eyes Patchfang: White tom with black patches (Apprentice: Mottlepaw) Nightsky: Black-and-white tomPoppypelt: Gray tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat Boulderclaw: Huge gray tabby tomBeechpatch: Gray tabby tom with a distinctive white patch between ears Smokestripe: Smoky gray tabby tom Yellowflower: Black she-cat with bright yellow eyes Whitesong: Graceful, pure white she-cat Grassclaw: Dark brown tabby tom with green eyes Queens Mistbrook: Blue-gray she-cat with a white muzzle, mother of Riverkit (Long-furred blue-gray she-cat) and Poolkit (Blue-gray tom)Brightfoot: Ginger tabby she-cat with white paws, mother of Littlekit (Tiny black-and-white tom) and Emberkit (Little ginger tabby tom with white forepaws) Rosefern: Tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with leaf-green eyes, mother of Kitekit (White tom with black markings) and Morningkit (Tortoiseshell she-cat) Featherfur: Pretty, long-furred silver-and-white she-cat, mother of Frostkit (White she-cat with icy blue eyes) and Lilykit (Gray-and-white she-cat) Swallowtail: Lithe brown tabby she-cat, formerly of EagleClan, expecting Rippleclaw’s kits Apprentices Mottlepaw: Big, mottled brown-and-ginger tom with sharp green eyes Robinpaw: Big ginger tabby tom with pale yellow eyesLightpaw: Pale brown-and-white tabby she-cat with a hooked fang Elders Troutleap: Blue-gray tom with battle-scarred ears, half-deafFloodwing: Long-furred white tom with blue eyes Fallowfur: Small, pale brown tabby she-cat with green eyes
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EagleClan
Leader: Gorsestar: Old, pale gray tabby tom with a white tail-tip Deputy: Crowflash: Black tom with a white flash on chest and green eyes Medicine Cat: Silverwing: Beautiful silver tabby she-cat (Apprentice: Icepaw- Gray-and-white she-cat) Warriors Badgerstripe: Black tom with faint, silver tabby stripes Hareclaw: Brown tabby tom Sedgeberry: Pale brown she-cat with white splotches and amber eyes Swiftflight: Lithe gray-and-white tabby tom (Apprentice: Darkpaw) Falconcry: Brown tabby tom with darker paws Blazeclaw: Pale ginger tabby tom Goldenwind: Pretty, golden-brown tabby she-cat with copper eyes (Apprentice: Shadowpaw) Junipertail: Solid gray tom with dark blue eyes Ashbreeze: Slender, dark gray she-cat with blue eyes Fleetfrost: White tom Ferretfur: Mottled gray-and-brown tom Ivyfoot: Tortoiseshell she-cat with white paws Queens Dovepool: Gray she-cat with white patches, mother of Pinekit (Pale brown tabby tom with amber eyes) and Thornkit (Dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes) Dewshine: Silver-and-white tabby she-cat with bright green eyes, mother of Black-kit (Black tom with barely visible silver tabby marks), Dawnkit (Silver tabby she-cat with deep blue eyes), and Leafkit (Black she-cat with bright green eyes) Fawnleap: Chestnut brown she-cat with darker splotches, mother of Sky-kit (Light-brown tabby she-cat with sky-blue eyes) and Fernkit (Little gray she-cat) Apprentices Shadowpaw: Black tom with golden eyes Darkpaw: Black-and-white tom Elders Heathersong: Tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat with a graying muzzle Kestrelwing: Brown tabby tom, missing tail-tip Cinderfang: Solid dark gray tom Tansytail: Black-and-white she-cat with half-blind golden eyes
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Post by valleylight on Apr 25, 2019 10:37:56 GMT -5
Prologue
Fenced in by a grove of willows to the south and tumble-down walls of rock-littered earth in every other direction, Brook Hollow was comfortably nestled in a circlet of vibrant, deciduous woodlands. The woods couldn’t go on forever, though. To the far north lay the Sparselands; to the deep south, the Gathering Place. And to the utter east sprawled the river and EagleClan’s moorlands, then the mountains beyond Clan reckoning.
It was from Twolegplace and the oaken dells of the west that the storm moved in. There, rain sliced ever-eastward through the sparse, early new-leaf canopy. The sudden downpour sent songbirds fluttering for cover, cutting short their hopeful refrains. Rain gathered in ruts and dips to form puddles; the puddles quickly swelled into rushing rivulets, and creatures scurried to seek shelter under every rock or root. Soon, nothing could be heard but the heavy drumming of rain against foliage and earth, alongside the plaintive cry of a lonely ground warbler.
***
Despite the rain, FoxClan’s camp was alive with activity. Worried, hushed mews flew thick and fast about Brook Hollow, and nearly every cat had left his or her den to join in on the conversation. While a few bushes offered shelter, there was hardly enough dry space for every cat, and the least senior warriors were obliged to crouch beneath sedges near the brook that flowed up from the Willow Barrier. (Their pelts were quickly soaked through, but they were too distracted to care much.) Two she-cats even huddled outside their leader’s den beneath Lowest Stone, which jutted out from the western portion of the Earth Barrier like a protective awning. It would have seemed disrespectful had Hollystar not moved out nearly six moons prior.
“It’s too early!” the younger she-cat, a brown tabby, muttered.
Her companion shifted her weight uncomfortably. “Yes, she’s only just announced it, and now…”
From across camp, a harried-looking, long-furred tom whipped his head out from behind a bramble thicket. “Whitepaw! Fetch me more strengthening herbs!” he yowled over the pounding rain. The young she-cat nodded tersely before breaking shelter and disappearing down an old fox tunnel at the foot of the northern Earth Barrier.
The brown tabby shook her head nervously. “That’s a bad sign.” “That mate of yours looks ready to pluck poor Whitepaw’s whiskers out,” her friend rasped. “I’m not sure he remembers she’s your apprentice now.” “He’s just worried.” The tabby lowered her voice, glancing about to be sure she wasn’t overheard. “He doesn’t want to lose another kit, after all.”
“That’s no great secret. After Hollystar’s little one back in leaf-fall…” The older warrior shook out her ginger fur, unhappy to relive such memories.
“It’s a blessing her other two toms are so strong. I’m not sure she could bear to lose them, too— goodness knows she’s not recovered yet.”
The tabby's friend was about to agree when movement on the other side of camp diverted her attention. A white tom, his pelt patched with black swatches of fur, was peering out from the warrior’s den. Catching sight of his mate, he hurried through the rain to join the ginger she-cat; he shook himself dry before nudging her fondly. “I hope you’re not doubting Brightfoot for a second, Redwhisker. She’s Nightsky’s mate— if any kits can make it through a kitting this early, it’ll be his.”
Redwhisker returned his nudge but said nothing. From her other side, the brown tabby managed a laugh, though her tail was still twitching with nervous anticipation. “You’d say your brother could leap over the mountains, Patchfang, if he took a notion to.”
A furious yowl sounded from the brambles. “Whitepaw! Herbs!”
“I’m coming!” Whitepaw scrambled out of the medicine cat’s den before pelting back towards the nursery, her jaws laden with leaves and berries. Patchfang stared after her, his ears pricked. “I’ve never heard Rippleclaw so riled up— not even the time when Hollystar’s kits raided his store for honey.” Redwhisker couldn’t help smirking at the memory. “I thought he’d have Robinkit’s tail when he swore they hadn’t touched a drop.”
Her mate chuckled. “It’s not as though they could escape punishment— their paws were stuck to the den floor!”
Every cat laughed, and after a moment the brown tabby shook her head warmly. “He may be short with them sometimes, but Rippleclaw loves all the kits in his care.”
“Has he talked of having kits of his own?” Patchfang asked curiously.
“We’d like to someday, but… Losing Sweetkit was hard for him, and if Brightfoot—” Sudden emotion stifled the warrior’s mew, and her green gaze clouded. “Well, I don’t know how he’ll bear the guilt twice.”
The conversation's levity was lost as abruptly as it had been found, and every cat's gaze was downcast. Patchfang uttered a small, sympathetic trill, before Redwhisker meowed, “It’s alright, Swallowtail. It’s not many who understand the calling of a medicine cat. Rippleclaw takes responsibility for the lives of every cat in FoxClan— kits included.” A steady, heartening purr rumbled in her throat. “But I’d be a fool to say he doesn’t care for you more than all the rest of FoxClan put together.” The half-Clan tabby sighed, gazing with a bittersweet affection at the earth between her paws. Memories danced in her eyes like leaves on a breeze. “I hadn’t forgotten. Thanks, Redwhisker.”
When she looked up again, Swallowtail was greeted by the sorry sight of Whitepaw. Stumbling out of the nursery, the pretty white she-cat padded dejectedly over; she gave her sodden fur a few quick licks before sighing. “I wasn’t sure whether I was meant to train as a warrior. Now I know I made the right decision.”
Patchfang turned sharply towards the apprentice, his pelt bristling. “How bad is it?”
“The worst I’ve seen. Hollystar’s was easy compared to what Brightfoot’s going through. I don’t know how Rippleclaw even stays this calm. And on top of everything, Nightsky’s driving him half-mad, getting in the way.”
“No surprise there,” Redwhisker meowed. "He’s afraid he’s going to lose his mate and his kits. If I were in his paws, I’d be the greatest nuisance Rippleclaw’d ever seen.”
Whitepaw shook her head, her eyes fraught with unhappiness. “I couldn’t live with myself, having every cat’s fate in my paws. It’s bad enough just worrying for your Clanmates without being responsible for them.”
Swallowtail exchanged a glance with Redwhisker. “I hate to say it, but the responsibility we feel for our Clanmates is a heavy catch all cats carry, warriors included.” At Whitepaw's dismayed stare, she rested her tail-tip on the new apprentice's shoulder. “But don’t feel like you have to distance yourself from others, just to avoid that responsibility. Loss is a part of life— painful as it is— and we must learn to bear it without losing sight of the time we still have with our Clanmates.” Patchfang lashed his tail stubbornly, his amber gaze riveted to the nursery. “That’s all well and good, Swallowtail, but we won’t be losing any Clanmates today. Not a chance.” Whitepaw sighed, offering her mentor a grateful look. “No harm in hoping.”
An agonized wail sounded from within the brambles. Every cat flinched.
After a long moment’s silence, Patchfang swallowed audibly. His mate glanced at Whitepaw. “Swallowtail’s right,” the ginger warrior meowed solemnly. “And you’d do well to remember your mentor’s words. But also remember that sometimes things happen— things you can’t take responsibility for. What matters in those moments, in situations where there’s nothing you could’ve done, is how you respond.”
Swallowtail nodded. “And even if you do have a paw in tragedy, as Rippleclaw sometimes must, you have to learn from those hard experiences. Every circumstance— however difficult— is a chance to grow as a warrior and as a cat. Please don’t forget that.” Whitepaw mused for a moment. “I guess I’ll try," she meowed. "But that sure is an awful lot to remember.”
Redwhisker replied with a disbelieving growl. Despite her friend's annoyance, though, Swallowtail couldn’t help purring at the little cat’s simple candor. “Don’t worry, you needn’t remember it all now. That’s what you have me for, after all!”
***
That night, a lone warrior padded into Brook Hollow, her shoulders hunched against the rain. Unable to speak around the plump warbler in her jaws, she waved her tail in greeting to the silver-and-white tabby guarding the entrance before leaving her catch on the fresh-kill pile. As she made her way back towards the warriors’ den, she paused, catching the scent of new kits wafting from the nursery. “Featherfur,” she called across camp to the guard. “Has Brightfoot kitted already?”
Featherfur nodded to the older warrior. “It took the better part of the day. Every cat’s gone to sleep after all the excitement. You ought to see the newborns, Rosefern— they’re adorable!”
Rosefern sidled up to the bramble den’s tightly woven entrance and peered inside. She nearly stumbled backwards in surprise as a low hiss sounded from inside, but Hollystar’s hushed meow bade her relax. “Don’t worry, Nightsky, it’s only Rosefern.”
The tortoiseshell-and-white she-cat slipped inside, glad to be out of the rain despite the nursery’s uncomfortable warmth and heady milk-scent. Nightsky was curled protectively around his sleeping mate and kits, his black-and-white pelt bristling, but he settled down at the sight of his Clanmate. “Sorry, Rosefern,” he whispered. “It’s been a long day, and my nerves are a bit shot. Worried you were a fox, if you can believe it.”
“I hope I don’t resemble one too much,” Rosefern laughed. She glanced about the den. Mistcloud and Fallowfur were both asleep alongside their kits, and while Hollystar was awake, Robinkit and Mottlekit were snoring like dormice. “Sorry to disturb you all— Featherfur just told me Brightfoot had kitted. I suppose I’m the last to see them.”
Nightsky purred, stepping out of the nest and gazing affectionately down at his kits. “It’s no trouble; they’re fast asleep. Please, come meet them if you’d like.”
Rosefern padded silently over. To her surprise, she couldn’t see the kits over their mother’s flank until she was less than a tail-length away from the nest; she had to suppress a gasp of shock when she finally caught sight of them.
“They’re beautiful,” she managed, trying not to stare.
Half-buried in the moss and feathers were the smallest kits Rosefern had ever seen. The larger one, a ginger tabby with fluffy white forepaws, was no bigger than a shrew; his brother, a miniature version of Nightsky, was positively tiny. How could they possibly have survived the kitting? she marveled. She took a pace back as the ginger kit stirred. The little mite rolled onto his back, his paws churning the air as though he were running upside-down.
“I imagine he’s chasing squirrels in his dreams,” Nightsky whispered fondly. “He’s a born hunter— I can already tell.”
“What are their names?”
Her Clanmate hovered the tip of his tail over first the ginger tom and then the black-and-white one. “This is Emberkit,” he began, “and his brother is Littlekit.”
“One of Mistcloud’s came up with that name,” Hollystar purred, brushing her paw against Robinkit’s shoulder to ease the kit’s fitful slumber. “All the kits wanted to see them when Brightfoot was ready. When Riverkit caught sight of the smaller one, she said, ‘Hello, little kit.’ And wouldn’t you believe it, blind and deaf as he is, he turned towards her and growled!” Nightsky puffed out his chest proudly. “If that wasn’t a sign, I don’t know what is! He’ll prove a fierce warrior someday. Emberkit, too. Brightfoot and I put a lot of thought into his name; he may be a little spark now, but he’ll be a firebrand, just like his mother!”
“Littlekit tried to bite Patchfang when he made a joke earlier,” Hollystar chuckled.“So I suppose he inherited his mother’s good judge of fish-brains!”
Rosefern’s mind whirled with disbelief and confusion. But… they’re premature! Doesn’t Nightsky realize they aren’t likely to survive the next few days? Let alone make it to be apprentices! She glanced at Hollystar, lost for words. She sounds as though she believes they’ll make it, too. But… I suppose that’s no surprise. She must be thinking of poor Sweetkit.
“They’re lovely names,” Rosefern meowed at last. “Thank you for letting me have a visit with them, and give Brightfoot my regards in the morning.” She made as if to leave.
“Rosefern, wait.”
The tortoiseshell warrior turned slowly, forcing the uncertainty out of her mew. “Yes?”
Hollystar’s piercing green gaze bore into her, and she struggled not to shrink back. After a tense moment of silence, the black queen narrowed her eyes and spoke. “Do you believe something small can’t grow to have a larger impact on the Clan?” What! She… She’s talking about Nightsky and Brightfoot’s kits, right? “I… I wouldn’t say that, Hollystar. We’ve always been taught that every cat has great influence— from the youngest kit to the most senior elder.” “Yes, but what I mean is…The littlest kit, the smallest decision, a single course of action followed to its natural conclusion…" She gestured in a spiral motion with her paw. "They’re like dipping your paw in a pond, sending ripples that reach to the farthest edges.”
An uncomfortable trill rumbled deep within Nightsky’s throat. “Hollystar, there’s really no need for this.” He waited for a moment, but when he saw that his leader was still watching Rosefern expectantly, he growled more sharply. “Rosefern hasn’t treated my sons with any less respect than the rest of our Clanmates. Her doubt is only natural. I don’t expect cats to share our expectations for them… not yet, anyways.”
Her paws trembling and pelt bristling, Rosefern turned away once more. She wasn’t about to wait for Hollystar’s response. “Sorry to bother you both. Excuse me.”
She left the den at an even trot, but the moment her tail-tip cleared the bramble entrance, she raced towards the warriors’ den as though a pack of dogs was chasing her. When she reached the juniper bush, she leapt behind its protective branches, her heart pounding in her ears. And when she settled into her nest for the night, she was as restless as though her leader’s pointed words had latched onto her mind— just like a tick might’ve, feeding off her uncertainty and grief. The littlest kit… The smallest decision… A single course of action…
She was finally drifting off when the most piercing question struck her, jolting her awake.
You’ve made your choice.
What happens now?
Chapter 1: Reeds, Stars, and Kitten-Steps
“You’ll have to jump higher, fish-bait!” Mottlepaw crowed, stretching up to snag the compacted ball of reeds with outstretched claws.
Emberkit bore his teeth. Green-leaf sunlight glinted starkly off the Earth Barrier, and the kit had to narrow his eyes to slits to keep his quarry in sight. Dropping into another crouch, he fixed his gaze on the reed-ball and waggled his hindquarters in preparation for a third leap.
From where he stood behind the ginger kit, Robinpaw flicked his tail contemptuously. “Give it up, Emberkit. Keep away’s no fun when you’re no threat.” “Yeah, give another cat a turn,” Riverkit urged. She and her brother were watching the game from beneath the welcome shade of a holly bush. Poolkit's sneer was clearly visible, even through the leafy branches. “Maybe one who’s not shoulder-high to a flea," he suggested. Emberkit shot a furtive glare at his denmate, but he wouldn’t rise to Poolkit’s taunt. “Now,” he muttered to himself, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. “I’ve got them made.” Raising his mew to a squeaky yowl, he called good-naturedly to the others, “Just one more try! I know I’ll get it this time!”
Robinpaw rolled his eyes impatiently, but Mottlepaw seemed content to go on antagonizing his tiny Clanmate. “Alright, Fleakit, let’s see how high you can jump!” The mottled tom reared back on his hind paws before hurling the reed-ball in a high arch towards his brother, his whiskers already twitching at the thought of Emberkit’s pitiful attempt to catch such a throw.
Ignoring the reed-ball, Emberkit turned and launched himself at Robinpaw, who fell backwards— more from surprise than the impact of the tiny kit’s attack. The apprentice yowled in angry disbelief, but Emberkit had already slipped out from his grasp and plucked the clump of reeds off the ground with a deft white paw. Savoring the dumbfounded look on Mottlepaw’s slack-jawed face, he held up his prize, glancing innocently towards Robinpaw. “Sorry you thought I wasn’t a threat.”
Robinpaw leapt to his paws. It was clear he hadn’t enjoyed the kit’s trick; the ginger tabby was hissing furiously. “I’ll claw you to ribbons, runt!”
Not on my watch.
Abandoning the cool cleft in the Earth Barrier where he’d been feigning sleep, Littlekit raced over to plant himself between his brother and Robinpaw, his black-and-white pelt bristling. "Back off, Robinpaw."
Mottlepaw, Poolkit, and Riverkit made as if to sidle up around Robinpaw, but all three stopped dead at a warning lash of the tom’s tail. The ginger tabby sneered down at Emberkit’s brother. Littlekit felt his pelt burn with resentment— with his hackles raising kitten-soft fur and his neck craned back to meet the apprentice’s glare, it was painfully obvious how harmless he seemed.
“Out of the way, runt,” Robinpaw growled.
Littlekit’s muscles tensed as he debated leaping at a cat three times his size, but Emberkit’s confident mew spared him the decision. “Honestly, Robinpaw, do you think you’d get away with attacking a kit?” He spoke freely, his pelt unruffled and expression almost amused. When Robinpaw didn’t respond, he continued, “Ah yes… Courageous Robinpaw. I’m sure every cat will be impressed that you took on a nursery kit. I can just see Hollystar now, honoring you from Lowest Stone for how brave you are!”
Robinpaw’s eyes narrowed, and he cursed under his breath. Emberkit was right, of course; teasing Brightfoot’s kits might have gone unpunished, but roughing them up would land him in serious trouble. He’d be put off apprentice duties and confined to camp for a moon— maybe even longer. The ginger tabby spat in frustration before turning away.
He’ll have to save face, Littlekit though darkly, digging his claws into the dirt as if to anchor himself. Robinpaw took a few steps before glaring over his shoulder. “You two’re no better than a couple of newborns— your only hope’s to run mewling to your mother. Well, guess what? You’ll be made apprentices one day, unless Hollystar finds some sense, and then you won’t be able to hide behind your bigger, stronger Clanmates. We’ll see where your tricks and fancy talk get you in battle. You’ll be real fish-bait before you make it past seven moons, so live it up… while you still can.”
Littlekit clenched his teeth to keep from hissing. Emberkit only rolled his eyes, unfazed by his Clanmate’s morbid prediction. After waiting several heartbeats for a better reaction, Robinpaw stomped away from the quiet, secluded corner of the Brook Hollow where his mentor had ordered him to play with the kits while their mothers were out on patrol.
“Way to give it to them straight!” Mottlepaw congratulated, hurrying to keep up with his brother.
“You sure showed them,” Riverkit added shyly.
Only Poolkit remained, waiting for them to walk out of earshot. Stiff-legged with anger, he padded over and leaned down to stand nose-to-nose with Emberkit. “Listen, fish-bait,” he spat. “You act like you’re so clever, but you’re a fool if you think you can cross Robinpaw. He’s the strongest apprentice FoxClan has ever had!”
The ginger kit curled his lip in disgust. “You’re the fool for looking up to him. What’s he gonna do, claw me?” Poolkit’s blue-gray pelt bristled until he looked like a storm cloud ready to burst. “You’re such a know-it-all, snake-faced smart-aleck that no cat could blame him! Just watch your back,” he meowed abruptly, turning to catch up with his sister and the apprentices.
Emberkit glowered after him, his hazel eyes glittering with cold dislike. After a moment, though, he shook out his pelt and began washing his ears. “So, want to catch some minnows in the brook?”
Littlekit stared at his brother, disbelief mingling with the fury churning in his belly. “How can you act like none of that just happened? And what were you thinking, making Robinpaw angry? Do you like being humiliated in front of every cat?”
Emberkit rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Littlekit. You know I can’t help it; they’re such easy prey!” He broke into a sudden purr. “Did you see the looks on their faces when I hustled them? ‘Oh, please, just one more try? I know I’ll make it this time!’”
“But it’s stupid to play their games, stupid to antagonize them! Aren’t you tired of their names? Fish-bait, Flea-kit, runt…” With each cutting jibe, Littlekit scoured his claws through the grassy earth; a sudden thrill of satisfaction raced through him as he imagined them slashing across Robinpaw’s smug face.
His littermate shrugged. “You just can’t let it get to you. That’s why I show them up sometimes—it helps me remember that insults don’t mean anything, coming from a bunch of fish-brained bullies with nothing better to do.”
Littlekit began to pace, the fur along his spine bristling. “Well, I’m sick of it. I’m fed up with being mocked by half the Clan and coddled by the rest. I’m tired of being treated like a defenseless one-moon-old, just because…” He broke off, breathless with anger. He loathed Robinpaw and his groveling tag-alongs, but he also loathed how all his Clanmates treated him, from the spiteful to the pitying. “Just because we’re small,” Emberkit finished, shooting his brother a knowing look. “But there’s no point in hiding from them. The only way we can earn their respect is by showing them we can stand up for ourselves— that we’re just as good as any other cat, better even.” Littlekit didn’t even pause in his pacing. Emberkit heaved a sigh before starting off towards the nursery. “Just think about it.” He glanced at his paws before adding, “Oh, and thanks for standing up for me, by the way.”
Startled by those unexpected parting words, Littlekit watched as his brother trekked back towards their den of brambles. For such a little cat, it was quite the journey from one side of camp to the other. The brook was a rushing river, the center of camp an endless field, and every bush or sedge along the way a ponderous roadblock.
At length, the black-and-white tom looked away and uttered a low growl. I’m not going back there to listen to Poolkit and Riverkit gloat, he resolved. Turning in circles to smooth down the grass he’d disturbed with his clawing, he curled himself into a tight ball, drawing his tail protectively over his nose. I’m staying out here. Whatever Emberkit says, I’d rather be left alone. At least when I’m by myself, I can pretend I’m somewhere else. Somewhere no cat will bother me. He closed his eyes, the last of his anger dissipating as he savored the bliss of solitude. Now no cat can call me names. …No cat can call me Littlekit.
***
He was awakened by a gentle purring nearby. Littlekit blinked open his eyes to see that the sun had set, bathing the hollow in darkness. Patches of white, seemingly suspended in midair, worked in conjunction with a set of glowing green eyes to inform him that his father was watching him from a couple tail-lengths away. “Nightsky?” he mewed blearily.
“Emberkit said I might find you here,” the black-and-white tom explained. “Sorry to disturb your beauty sleep!”
Rolling sleep-sticky eyes, Littlekit pulled himself to his paws. “You sound like Patchfang, making jokes,” he warned.
Nightsky purred again. “And you sound like your mother, telling me off." He yawned before adding, "I didn’t mean to wake you, but you were running in your sleep again. You know, your brother did the same thing—”
“Right after we were born, I know,” his kit laughed wearily. He padded over to sit by his father, who towered over him as Littlekit might’ve a beetle. “I’ve heard that story a hundred times.”
Nightsky gazed fondly down at his son before glancing to one side. He sighed. “Emberkit told me about Robinpaw.”
Littlekit stared at his paws. “Oh.” He waited for his father to say something more, expectancy and foreboding warring like enemy patrols in his eyes.
“You know, Littlekit, when your mother and I became mates, we knew there was a chance you’d be born early.” Littlekit’s ears pricked in surprise. He looked up as his father continued. “Brightfoot was born early too, along with her siblings. She was the only kit to survive, and she was the smallest in the nursery.” He broke into yet another purr. “I teased her all the time when we were your age, but she always gave as good as she got.” The warrior paused, staring up at the starry night sky as though he was thinking back to his days as a much younger cat.
“But she grew?” Littlekit prompted.
“Yes, not too long after we were made apprentices.”
He thought for a moment. “But not every runt— I mean, not every early kit— grows like they should. Fallowfur didn’t.”
Nightsky fixed his son with a dry look. “And did Fallowfur let that stop her from becoming a fierce warrior, one of the greatest FoxClan has ever known?”
The tiny tom shook his head reluctantly. “I guess not.” He closed his eyes for a moment before adding miserably, “But I don’t want to be little. I’m tired of being laughed at, and I can’t stand the way cats treat Emberkit and me differently. I hate it!”
Nightsky watched him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without warning, he flopped down onto his back, exposing his soft white belly to the warm night air. “What are you doing?” Littlekit demanded, flicking his ears in irritation.
“What we always do on clear nights like this. I’m watching the stars.” He glanced mischievously back at his son. “Care to join me?”
The kit snorted. Honestly, he’s as bad as Emberkit. Can’t any cat take me seriously at all? But he couldn’t refuse his father’s winning, upside-down invitation. After glancing around to be sure no cat was watching, he flipped over— his black-and-white pelt brushing against Nightsky’s— and gazed up into the vast, inky landscape of the night. The two toms lay there for some time, each losing himself in his thoughts as he stared at the shining stars. The night wore on.
Littlekit started in surprise when his father broke the silence. “You know what? The stars are pretty amazing, in their own way. They’re tiny little pricks of light, small enough to cover with your paw.” As he spoke, he reached up with one huge, black forepaw and blotted out an entire swath of stars. “But even though they may be small, they’re important to the Clans. We look to them for direction in the darkest of times, and they can guide us because they have a unique point of view from up on their perch. They even offer light to those who look to them— hunters, sentries, and travelers alike.”
He fell silent once more, and Littlekit glanced askew at his father. Feeling as though he was expected to respond somehow, the kit ventured, “So, is that why leaders are given the name ‘star’?”
Nightsky rolled over suddenly. “I never thought of that! That does make a lot of sense, now that you mention it.”
Littlekit’s whiskers twitched in amusement. “What were you talking about, then?”
He shrugged. “Well, like you said, we look to leaders for direction, and they enlighten us with a unique perspective. And,” he meowed, glancing significantly at his kit, “even though stars are small, that doesn’t keep them from being important.”
Littlekit blinked in surprise. Before he could reply, his father had risen to his paws. “And now, I think it’s about time we were both in our nests. You’re not the only cat who needs his beauty sleep!” Without another word, the warrior set off, offering only a parting wave of his tail in farewell.
His starry suggestion echoed in Littlekit’s mind after he’d gone. The tiny tom gazed into the night for a while longer, turning Nightsky’s words about and inspecting them as he might have a curious pebble. Maybe he’s right. He flipped onto his belly and stared out over camp. Moonlight glinted off the brook, bathing the reeds in a stark silver glow. There were no cats awake besides Grassclaw, who was on guard duty at the main entrance; his dark pelt was just visible across camp.
Maybe… Maybe Emberkit’s right, too. Maybe we can prove ourselves. A rush of conviction, stronger than any emotion he’d experienced in his short life, propelled the tom to his feet. That’s it! I know what I have to do! Letting the shadows envelop him and skirting the edge of Brook Hollow, Littlekit raced silently southward.
Of course, Grassclaw couldn’t hope to have noticed such a small cat slip out through the Willow Barrier and into the empty training clearing beyond, any more than Nightsky could have forced his son to stay and keep his eyes on the stars. Any more than Littlekit could hope to have predicted what his outing would cost.
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