Stoatfur wanted to reprimand himself for the events that had unfolded recently. The kits were innocent, bumbling about as happy as they could be, all unique in their own ways - and often clambering for his attention. It was the last thing that he wanted but he dealt with it in decent enough stride. In some strange way, he and Appledapple had become something akin to parents, at least in the eyes of the rogue litter. Maybe it would be better when they were made apprentices and then they could chase off after their mentors. Although, with their numbers, he was certain to help train them. Well, he would be involved anyways that was without a doubt. But it was different with the way they seemed to cling to his fur like burrs.
The little deputy made his way to the great rock, eager to get at least one out of the nursery so the kits could start contributing to the clan. If he could help it, he would never take kits in again. It was a lot for a clan to handle, especially in the middle of leafbare. Leaping onto the great rock, the tom settled back on his haunches and regarded the clearing with a flickering tail. His call wasn't commanding - it never was - but like inviting a conversation, "Let all cats gather beneath the highrock for a clan meeting."
