another star in the sky [open]

All Loonkit had ever known was dismissal.

She knew the reasons. The horrors that Windclan had undergone these past moons. They said she was a burden to be born in such times - when all she could remember was the growth and rebirth of a torn clan. She had not witnessed the horrible events that had taken place, and she had not known any of the cats who had tragically died - a crime that the grieving could not overlook. Death was such a huge word for her, a mere kitten. Regardless, it was tossed around like a moss-ball in the mouth of the warriors. Yet Loonkit, still too young to realize the weight of disaster, only felt the pain of dismissal.

She always kept a hopeful smile as she approached warriors and apprentices alike. She never tried to be demanding or overbearing. But everytime, either when she was pushed away by a tail, or told to bother someone else, or just brushed past, most of all, Loonkit tried to remember not to be disappointed. Their time was not hers to control. The warriors had important things to do. They had to rebuild the camp, it was their duty to do so.

But that left the she-kit confused. What was her duty, then? Certainly it could not be to just sit around and wait for something, anything, to happen. Was she supposed to sit and stay until her apprentice ceremony? Stars, just thinking about that possibility made her pelt crawl. Kithood was a time of freedom, or at least, that was what she was told. Too many apprentices and warriors told her that they wished they could be kittens again. But who would wish boredom on themselves? Loonkit's eyes followed the figures that roamed about the camp. She glanced down at her paws, to the muddied ground that laid there. The she-kit stood and paced forward. Maybe she could help. No. She would help. Her duty to the clan was no different than the warriors.

She started towards the semi-repaired wall before her, but faltered. How did one repair such a mess? She landed back on her haunches with a sigh. Maybe someone could come and help, or at the very least, they could ease her boredom.

Dismissal wasn't uncommon in the camp that afternoon.

Aspenpaw had spent the morning trying to stuff the most commonly used herbs into his brain. The silver tabby was ever thankful to be away from his mentor, Mintwhisker, who he still felt didn't trust him. It was disheartening to see the way she looked at him, like this was lol an elaborate plot to escape certain retirement. He wanted to show her that he truly wanted the life of a medicine cat, but, alas, he was all the while too stubborn to really do anything about it. He continued to make his sarcastic comments and try to appeal to her with humor, but the game of wits didn't work on her the way it worked on his old warrior mentor, Finchstar. She simply dismissed his attitude and carried on with her straightforward teaching method. He didn't think he was that hard of an apprentice.

He had healed from his traumatic injury in almost every way. Unfortunately, the two thing he had been assured were permanent were his physical ailments (the trembling and lack of balance in his paws) and the seizures. Mintwhisker suggested keeping track of them so he could more easily predict them. He followed these instructions with the greatest of enthusiasm. He kept a tally on the dirt wall inside the medicine den, which had recently been redug after the flood. He was up to two major ones per week, but he had a staring spell about once a day. Though his mentor wasn't too aware, he had his own little side project in his training. He wanted to cure his seizures. Or, if not that, make them better. Less frequent. It was a silly wish, and perhaps impossible, but he had a bee in his brain that was buzzing with the possibilities. Each new herb gave him a new theory. Each new theory gave birth to a new concoction. He stored his plans in the back of his mind, lying in wait until his medicinal knowledge was sufficient enough to give him a chance to create something that could really help him.

Selfish, yes. But it was alright, because he was minding his duty. If he could solve his own detrimental health condition, just think of how useful he'd be to the rest of his clan! These were the musings of a cat whose ambitions were taken from him altogether too quickly. He was still just a bit bitter that he was the age of a fine young warrior, but still retained his -paw and had to do a round of training all over again. Nonetheless, though this wasn't the path he had wanted at first, he was having quite a bit of fun with it. He was practicing balancing while running through a few herbs in his mind when his eyes stumbled upon a lost-looking kit. He half-sighed, half-chuckled at the sight of her and felt obligated to do something about it.

"You know, small one, we usually don't repair nursery walls by staring them down until they do what we say," he laughed as he approached her from the side. "You definitely should not be messing with those, anyway. You'll hurt those wee little paws, and then you'll end up in my den." With obviously shaking paws, he shifted a few of the gorse branches so the largest hole was less obvious. It wasn't an easy task with his paws moving the way they did, but he was taller and much more experienced than the kit. Better him than her. He got down off his haunches and laid down beside the kit, casually licking his fur. "What's your name, then? I don't think I've seen you scurrying around yet."

A sudden gust of wind rattled the newly born branches of gorse. Loonkit's eyes widened in fear as the tower of plant swayed dangerously before her. Back and forth the wall rocked, and though the movement was slight and a natural occurrence on the flattened moors of her clan, unexperienced Loonkit scooted backwards as tendrils of fear wrapped around her tail. The questions based upon 'what if' grasped her mind. What if the wall was too weak? What if the wind was too strong? What if she couldn't get away? What if a monster emerged from the holes in the wall, or a puddle in the mud? What if, what if, what if?

The she-kit stared at the wall for two or three heart-beats more. That branch there, was that truly a branch or was it a branch-monster reaching for her? What about that leaf? How could she be certain that wasn't a monster's egg? Loonkit squeaked quietly as the treacherous wind blew the stray leaf closer and closer until she could almost extend her claws to touch it. Instead of unsheathing her claws to fight back the potential monster egg, the she-kit raised her paw threateningly. Her paw quivered for a moment, hovering in mid-air, before she smashed the poor leaf and all her unreasonable fear with it. After a couple more poundings onto the now slightly crumpled green leaf, Loonkit examined a small tear that had appeared. Conclusion: it was just a leaf afterall. A sigh of relief escaped the small kitten. She had exterminated this possible threat to her clan. Maybe that was her duty.

Of course, her sense of safety did not last long. The she-kit was incredibly startled by Aspenpaw's greeting to her as he approached her side. Loonkit squealed, for the second time that day, and wheeled around to face the culprit. Her fear chipped away as some recognition sparked in her mind. This was a clan-mate. "Oh. Uh. Sorry?" the she-kit smiled nervously at the tom, whose deep voice soon was a stark contrast to Loonkit's own squeaky one. As his own paws rose, the young kit could not help but notice how they shook. She fought the urge to say something. Her own paws quivered as she glanced down to them for reassurance, but they were shivering in fear. Young Loonkit looked back up to the tom. He did not need to be afraid!

"Uh, you don't have to be afraid! I got rid of the scary kinda monster-y threat, see?" she murmured to him as she pointed to the fallen leaf with her tail. "I just noticed your paws were shaking, and, uh, are you okay?" that was a stupid question. The she-kit scolded herself. He did not need her help. She was a mere kitten and he was a - well, she was not quite sure what he was. But he was older than her. Where was she going with this?

Loonkit's ears perked as Aspenpaw's question registered in her mind. "Loonkit. I'm Loonkit. What's your name?"

Aspenpaw, ever sensitive, took the slightest bit of offence to the kit's comment about his paws. The apprentice fought the urge to reply sarcastically, a joke about getting him to a medicine cat immediately, but he looked into the small scrap's eyes and realized that she was barely out of the nursery. He took a deep breath, remembering a lesson he had yet to learn. Soften, Aspenpaw, the StarClan cat had said, softness is not weakness.

"Well, Loonkit, my legs always shake," he explained. He had trouble picking words that a kit would understand. "I'm sure you've heard the stories of the great flood, at least a little bit. We had to escape high into the mountains across the territory. There was a battle, you see. Every cat in every clan against a pack of fearsome animals called dogs... and a mighty creature with fangs as big as my head, called the Sharptooth." His eyes widened as he realized he might have just terrified the poor thing. "Erm... well, it had fangs as big as my head. It's dead, crushed by an avalanche. But anyway, I was battling a dog when it tossed me into a pile of rocks. I hit my head and, well, I never went back to normal. Since I can't run so fast anymore, I became the medicine cat. Or, rather, the apprentice, until Mintwhisker decides I can have a full name. So you can call me Aspenpaw for... now..."

Aspenpaw trailed off and stared into space, blankly. His ears twitched and he did not budge. He stayed this way for a few moments before blinking rapidly and looking around. "Oh. I'm sorry. It happened again!" He chuckled a little and rubbed his ears with his trembling paws. "I'm alright now." He looked the kitten up and down. She was an outgoing thing. Most kits didn't pay him any mind, especially after a seizure. They tended to stay away from him out of fear.

"You seem like a brave cat already, Loonkit. I hope one day you protect our clan the way you protected me from that bush!"

Baykit lay on his belly. He was very tired from all the commotion going around camp. He crawled under a gorse bush as the wind became stronger. It felt as if the wind was ripping off Baykit's fur. He squealed with agoney and delight. 

  The wind flattened the grass on the recently flooded hills. Baykit sat up and pawed at the bush. He leaped up to paw at a leaf. Baykit then fell on the grass, landing hard. "Ouch!"  He squeaked. 


   His tail lashed as Baykit wrestled the air. He tried to get up, but he couldn't. He rolled and squealed, but it did nothing. Baykit eventually found himself rolling on his head. That hurt. He thought as his head reeled. He leaped out of the gorse bush as soon as his head felt leveled. 

Large amber eyes stared up at Aspenpaw in newfound wonder as the apprentice explained his current predicament. His legs always shook? The she-kit could hardly believe it. The very idea of such a hardship was hard for her to imagine, at least, until she found herself staring at the tom's quivering form. Though, she quickly cast her eyes away to inspect a tumbling leaf in the distance. If her mother had taught her anything, it was that staring was rude. And Loonkit had no place in being rude.

The great flood? Loonkit nodded slowly as Aspenpaw began to recount the stories of the great flood. She knew very little concerning the battles and dogs - and though 'dog' was a foreign word, Loonkit had already associated the term with fear -, but the ideas that the apprentice presented to her were enough to convince Loonkit that soon her own legs would betray her and tremble for eternity. Aspenpaw spoke quickly, his words confusing and new to the kitten, but she mentally trudged through the mess of information nonetheless. A dog - she knew the word dog was bad - had thrown him, Aspenpaw, into a pile of rocks. That meant that the dog must have been huge! And it drove Loonkit to the conclusion that Aspenpaw was quite unlucky. Of everywhere to be thrown, he was tossed into the pile of dangerous rocks. The she-cat considered voicing this to the tom, but he had already moved on from the subject.

He was a medicine cat apprentice? It was a mouthful of a title, but it sounded important. At the very least, she was certain of Mintwhisker's importance. And Minkwhisker was a medicine cat, so if Aspenpaw was a medicine cat apprentice, that meant he was an expert, and important, sorter of leaves. And personally, Loonkit liked leaves. Unless they were an evil monster's leaves.

"Aspenpaw?" the words were soft yet filled with concern as the she-cat noticed the tom's blank stare into space. She checked behind herself, trying to follow his empty gaze, but to no avail. Loonkit raised and paw and moved to poke the still apprentice when he suddenly blinked himself back into existance. The she-kit released a sigh of relief. He answered her unasked question by reassuring her of his safety.

"Me? Brave?" she considered the compliment for a heart-beat, her ears burning, but her mind cast it away. "I think you are brave, too, Aspenpaw. Probably even braver than me." she glanced at the bush the tom mentioned with a giggle, but the sound quickly transformed into a squeak of fright as a bundle of fur leaped from the bush's depths. Loonkit shifted her paws to be closer to Aspenpaw.

But she soon recognized the tom. "Don't worry, that's Baykit. He's a kit, like me! But, uh, is he okay?"