Duskfall rested just outside the new stony hollow where they made their camp, the tom resting nearby a bramble bush that was bare of any leaves. It was cold and the sunlight was barely warm enough that it was tolerable outside, especially considering how short his fur was despite the changes in temperature. He was always better suited for the warmer months. He'd always looked on in envy at Specklefur, may she rest in peace, with her longer coat. The deputy just had to make do with his short brown fur that was nippy.
One thing that brought warmth into his heart, however, was the sight of his kits, Featherkit, Lilackit, and Rainkit. Their transition into ThunderClan camp life hadn't been easy, Cloudwhisker had given him an earful about it, but they seemed to be adjusting slowly. He wasn't Mistfeather, a loving mother, but he'd raised kits before with Softsong, Coalspirit, Littlefang, Hawkstrike, and Raindrop... But his mate was counting on him to raise them well, so he would.
"Kits?" He called out when he heard familiar pitter patters of tiny paws on the strangely hard earth of their new camp site. "Are you there?"
-
"Oh. He heard us." Featherkit whispered to her nearest sibling, her silver ears pressing flat against her skull before flicking up again multiple times in quiet annoyance. She'd been hoping to sneak up on him and attack, like the apprentices did to each other. The past few moons had been confusing for her, a whirlwind of odd scents, but being so young, she'd gone along with the changes without much protest. Her eyes and hearing had been underdeveloped enough that she didn't quite understand what had happened. Despite earlier protests, she'd long since accepted her new mother and father, though at times she felt a longing, an ache for another warmer and comforting scent. She could just put a name to it, but it didn't quite click. Mist, mist something. But it escaped her before she could say it aloud.
