Storm Watcher

Sweetkit dropped into the best interpretation of a hunting crouch she could muster, tail lashing as she wigged her hips in preparation. She flattens her ears, and releases her tightly coiled stance, springing up into the air with a push of her back feet. Her aim is true, and beginner's luck has held out. She lands squarely on the ragged tangle of moss, securing it between her claws as she rolls over, raking it with her back feet. A thrill of success rolls over her shoulders, and Sweetkit purrs with contentment at her catch. The tiny tabby flops on her side, moss ball still clutched with the tips of her claws. Her eyes are mild as she stares out from the thick foliage that shields the nursery. She looks to the open moor beyond the confines of camp, the wide swaths of pale sky, the blush of purple heather, and her small heart soars. Her legs are too short to keep pace with the wind, her claws too small to snare fleet rabbits, she is too small to leave camp, but she can already feel the moor-call beating against her ribs, louder in her ears than her own heartbeat and she has never wanted anything more in her short life. Her green eyes are alight with such a scope of wonder only a kit can possess and she is filled with love for the open sky and wide-stretching space that only a Windclan cat can know. The breeze that gusts through camp rushes past her, ruffling the downy fur of her chest and it smells like rain and heather and home. The kit is content to watch the storm roll in, grey clouds slowly swallowing sunny patches of moor. She is still now, an afterthought of hazy blue and gentle grey, watching quietly as the world around her changes. The other nursery kits squabble and roll with their play, squeaky voices clipping the heavy air. Sweetkit rests her head on her front paws, eyes upturned to watch the building clouds. Her feathery tail is curled protectively around the moss ball as the first far-off growl of thunder rumbles over the hills beyond.

The other kits were having fun playing outside, and of course, naturally, he was stuck inside. His mother's tongue rasped over his head again and again, cleaning behind his ears and over his face. Clearkit squirmed, determined to wriggle out of his mother's grasp. It wasn't that he wanted to play with the other kits, he just didn't want to miss out on watching the fun. Playing wasn't really his...thing. Unless it was play-fighting. Anything to hone his skills so he could be as good of a warrior as he possibly could be.

Finally, with his persistant squirming, the queen let her son go and Clearkit shot out of the nursery like a rocket, long, awkward legs aiding the cause. He was gangly for a kit, not quite having grown into his legs and ears yet. The tomkit slowed his pace once he neared Sweetkit, clear blue eyes watching her every move. She stopped batting around the moss ball, however, and was content to settle down and just...watch. And wait. And be calm. Clearkit liked that. "Hello, Sweetkit." he mewed plainly, taking a seat beside her. Her gaze was turned upwards, out over the moor grasses and stubby shrubs, up at the sky. Clouds were building over the horizon, and with the breeze that rustled through the grass, he could feel that it was coming this way. There had been a few small rainstorms in his short lifetime, and Clearkit found that he rather liked rain. It was cleansing and cool and it felt good on his short fur. The blue-pointed tomkit took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, tail flicking with content. "It's going to rain soon. I like rain, it's nice." A beat. He turned his gaze away from the sky and looked over at the gray tabby kit. "...Rain is more fun than playing with moss balls, I think." It wasn't a jab at her, moreso him just trying to make conversation.

The tabby lifts her head as Clearkit nears, watching as he moves to sit beside her. She pulls herself up into a sitting position, curling her tail neatly around her paws. Her catch, the moss ball, forgotten for a moment as the clouds darken and her attention is pulled and split between the slow-moving storm and Clearkit. "Hello." She responds in kind, voice mild and friendly despite the curtness of her greeting. It was becoming apparent how aptly named she was. Another gust sweeps over the moor, rustling the nursery's thick walls. Sweetkit unconsciously leans into the wind, enjoying the way it made her whiskers tremble and the scents it brought. Rain and heather were becoming her favorites. She listens passively to the tom-kit, gaze drifting again to the heavy clouds and shadow-strewn moor. The grasses were alive with the wind, bowing and rippling like a white-capped sea.

"I like the rain too, but before the storm is the best part, I think." She answers, turning to look at Clearkit again, splotched face making the pale green of her eyes more striking. She lets silence slip between for a few long moments, watching the clouds move faster and the grasses buck more violently as she thinks over her answer. Debating rain and moss balls are all very important to kits after all. "Moss ball playing makes a better hunter." She answers finally, but looks again to the silver moor and boiling sky with mirth as she finishes, "But if I were to choose one to do for the rest of my life, I would watch the rain." The first few drops splatter into the dust and Sweetkit reaches out a white paw to catch one, a happy expression on her face as it sinks into her fur. She can't help the purr that vibrates through her small chest, content with her kithood and the wind and the rain and the sky and the moor and her current company. There wasn't else much she needed.

She glances hesitantly into the interior of the nursery behind her. The queens snuggling deeper into their nests, a few kits cowering as another clap of thunder rumbles over the moor. Lightning flickers over the hills, but the storm had farther yet to go before it fully breaks over the camp. The clearing outside was settling down as the rain chased most of the cats into their dens. Would anyone notice a stray kit... or two? The she-kit, small and gray and very much aware she should not be out of the nursery with a storm boiling on the horizon, gets to her feet. With a sign of decision, Sweetkit steps boldly from the shelter of the nursery. She doesn't go far, settling no more than a tail-length away from the narrow mouth of the den. The rain is cool and gentle as it soaks into her downy kitten fur. With a flick of her now damp tail, she invites Clearkit to join her. If she didn't love the moor and the heather so much Sweetkit would be quite happy in Riverclan. "The rain feels nice, the nursery is too dusty." Sweetkit would not be returning to a very pleased queen, considering she was now quite wet, but she would return happy. She lifts her nose to the sky, letting the rain wet her ears as she closes her eyes. Strom-smell and damp grass waft into the camp with another gust of wind and fork of lightning. A few heartbeats later thunder growls and the kit opens her eyes to look around the camp properly. She wasn't out of the nursery much, and she could see the full extent of the moor better.

Flurrykit watched the two other kits. He flicked his ears, half wanting to join Sweetkit in the rain. But he stayed put with his head on his paws. The rumble from the thunder resonated in Flurrykit's chest in a content purr. The stormy nights were some of his favorites. The other cats were inside their dens, hushed and sleeping, while he could relax in the loud silence of the storm. Even if he were to get wet, the scents and the feeling of the storm in his paws made it worth it. The kit blinked as a bolt of lightning traced its way down the sky, almost like a crack in the sky showing the light of a thousand suns. After his vision cleared, Flurrykit heaved himself to his paws, blue eyes shining. He poked his head out of the nursery. Raindrops fell and made his whiskers glisten as Flurrykit padded out to Sweetkit's side. "Hey," he greeted with a dip of his head. "I love the storms too." A breeze ruffled Flurrykit's fur and made him shiver. Another flash of lightning lit up the sky as he sat down. By now his fur was slicked to his sides, emphasizing his unusually small size.

"Before the storm..." Clearkit echoed, gaze tracing the clouds as they moved closer and closer overhead. His ears flicked at the rumbling of thunder and the tall tom-kit curled his tail neatly around his paws. "You know, I agree. Before the storm is very nice. And..." He considered her statement about the moss balls. "You're right, it is good for hunting practice. Maybe I should practice more..." Clearkit saw Sweetkit look back at her mother in the nursery out of the corner of his eye and he instinctively looked back at his mother as well. She seemed occupied, chatting with the other queens idly as another peal of thunder rolled.

When he turned back around, Sweetkit wasn't by his side anymore. She had wandered out in the rain, letting it soak into her fur. It looked like it felt nice, but...Clearkit frowned. "I don't think you should be out there," he called, getting to his paws. "Your mother won't like you being out there. Come back." He had to admit he was curious to see what the rest of camp looked like as well, but rules were rules. He had half a mind to go out there and get her. A flash of lightening lit up the sky, blinding the tom-kit momentarily. When he finally blinked away the stars out of his vision, Flurrykit was pushing past him to join Sweetkit out in the rain. Great, now there were two of them. He sighed heavily and marched his lanky butt right out there with them, standing right in front of them as a sort of blockade.

"Go back inside." His large ears lowered, pinning back against his head as his short fur became slicked with rain. Now that he was out here, it was rather chilly. Maybe this wasn't as great of an idea as he originally thought.

Sweetkit shakes her head, ears flicking to rid them of the water that beads on her fur. She turns to look at Clearkit as he calls her back. The she-kit didn't see much of reason for returning to the nursery, she was already wet. "I know." She answers, instead of getting up. Another ragged bolt of lightning splits the sky, and the tabby can't help but be mesmerized by the pattern it carves in the clouds. She can feel the deep thrum of thunder beneath her paws, and as the grass churns out on the moor she wants to be running, whiskers quivering with the violent conquest of the wind and chasing the dark storm clouds. "Hello Flurrykit. She greets as the white tom-kit joins her outside. "This is a good one." She purrs in agreement. They must look silly, two soaking kittens having an idle chat in the midst of a thunderstorm. Sweetkit doesn't mind.

She stares mildly at Clearkit, damp and upset. He looked smaller with his ears back and fur matted down by the rain. While the she-kit was enjoying the openness of the camp, she could see the sky and the moor and the lightening as it fractured the muted grey, she was ever the peacekeeper and didn't want to argue. She did hate to leave when Flurrykit had just joined her, and for a moment she is indecisive but pulls herself easily to her paws with a yawn. "It is getting cold." She nods to Clearkit and gives her pelt a good shake, downy kitten fur ruffling up against the wind. "Come on Flurrykit, if you stay out much longer they might have to rename you." Sweetkit teases gently, referring to the mud that clings to his white paws and tail.

She headbutts Clearkit's narrow shoulder affectionately as she passes to show she wasn't put out by him spoiling her storm watching. She slips quietly into the nursery with nothing more than a rustle of gorse and meets her mother's exasperated stare. The tabby lays down close to the entrance so she can see the sky, and begins the process of cleaning the mud from between her tiny claws.

Flurrykit blinked in acknowledgement at Clearkit, then looked back at Sweetkit. Her teasing made his whiskers twitch with amusement. "Well maybe I should change my name," he answered. "Or you could." The kit flicked a forepaw at Sweetkit, leaving a few drops of mud on her flank. Then he turned to Clearkit. "I'll go in." Flurrykit gave one last glance at the sky which once again cracked with lightning. It was getting chilly, and he didn't want to catch a cold.

Mud clung to his fur as Flurrykit padded back to the safety of the nursery. Before he entered, he shook out his fur. Finally out of the rain, he sat down next to Sweetkit and started to get the mud out of his claws as she did. A glance back showed that his mother was already asleep. Her fur was ruffled up, a cozy place to sleep. But the cold wasn't too bad, especially since it was replaced by a new warmth; new friends.

Clearkit let out a sigh he didn't know he was holding when his friends--could he even call them that? Friends? Did they consider him a friend? All questions to think about later...--turned tail and went back under the cover of the nursery. Sweetkit bumped his thin shoulder with her head as she passed, playful and teasing, and Flurrykit went back inside without complaint. Rules were rules, he thought, so why go to all the trouble of breaking them? That didn't make sense to the young tomkit.

He followed dutifully after the other kits, pausing in the enteance to the nursery to shake off all the water that clung to his fur. All that he could, at least. His mother was eyeing him from where she laid, tailtip flicking with annoyance. She had just been washing him and here he was, wet and muddy all over again. Clearkit caught her gaze and shrunk a little, embarrassed. He would fix it, he could do it himself. If the other kits could do it, he could too. The pointed tomkit padded over to his newfound "friends" (relationship statuses still pending) and settled down next to Flurrykit. His own paws were muddy and he was soaking wet, so he got to work cleaning his toes and claws.

Now, about those "friends"...Clearkit's washing turned methodical as he became lost in thought, pondering the nature of these...friends.

The storm moves quickly as the wind picked up to a roar across the open moor. The thick walls of the nursery trembled as another flash of lightning flickered from the dim and thunder growls. The rain got heavier, washing through the camp in sweeping sheets. In all honesty, she was glad she listened to Clearkit, and was content to be snug in the shelter of the nursery. She sits up to work the mud from her back claws before settling down again, fur considerably neater than when she came in, but still a bit haphazard. She rests her chin on Flurrykit's back so she can better watch the storm as it rolls through camp.

The wind that slices through the gorse is cold but Sweetkit is warm enough with her denmates. Another jagged bolt of lighting illuminates the space and the she-kit sighs happily, ruffling the pale fur of Flurrykit's back. Things are quiet, queens purring softly to the kits frightened by the storm, the steady breathing of her friends, the rain against the foliage, the moaning of the wind. It was enough to make any cat tired. The light that filters through the nursery walls is storm washed in muted greys. Green eyes blink slowly, watching the rain and listening to the next grumble of thunder. She is grey and blue and still, a dark patch of fur in the pile of kits that all gaze towards the sky. Watching, waiting, breathing as the storm swells and pushes through the WindClan camp.