pressure on julian [S]

Silverkit

"You're StarClan's gift to ShadowClan, dear."

"Those pelts are so tacky. I won't ever see you with one, right, dear?"

"What was that? No, it's not mom. It's Meadowlark, remember, dear?"

The words of nights passed turned in Silverkit's mind. He'd woken up from a nightmare that turned murky and distant as soon as he opened his eyes. He could not explain what the bad dream had been, or why it had scared him so– he just knew he woke up with a small gasp, with his chest tight and thin claws pulling at the moss of his nest. A shiver went through him, and Silverkit curled in on himself, laying his tail over his nose. He wanted to rise and shuffle over to Meadowlark, squeeze his way into the crook between foreleg and stomach and fall back to sleep against her warmth. She would not allow that though; she'd never said it outright, but Silverkit knew she preferred it this way. He unfurled slightly to stretch out a paw, claws pulling absently at the loose bedding. His own little nest– it should have made him feel special, being the only kit in the nursery with his own nest. It only made him feel lonely. His own little nest– put together from the leftover moss and down of Meadowlark's, and made to keep him separate.

Sighing, Silverkit determined he would not be able to sleep again soon and pushed himself upright. He stalled, watching Meadowlark's sides slowly rise and fall with her breaths, watching the sunlight that spilled through a small split in the ceiling curl over her dark pelt. He nearly forgot himself and stumbled towards her, but his paws drew short before he could connect with her side. Sucking in a breath, Silverkit flicked his tail and padded around her to exit the den.

It was warmer outside than he thought it'd be. There was still a chill in the air, but the sun sank pleasantly through his pelt. Closing his eyes, Silverkit turned his face up toward the light. For a moment, he wished ShadowClan was different, so that they might patrol during the day. But that thought made his ears flatten to his head– ShadowClan could never change, they were perfect as they were. He should not have been wishing for anything else.

Lowering his head, Silverkit slowly sat down and just looked around the camp. It was quiet, save for the muffled snores of the others in their dens, soft conversation from the day guards. He didn't feel that lonely anymore, despite being alone. The comfortable heat burned off any lingering anxieties. The quiet allowed him to think, too, and he'd decided his loneliness before was just silly. Meadowlark was raising him to be a proud and, more importantly, independent cat. It was like a betrayal to her, to be seeking attention or comfort when he was perfectly capable of calming himself. There– he was already feeling better, just from sitting outside.

Silverkit grit his teeth together and nodded squarely. Stiffly, he stretched his legs out, laying neatly over the soft ground. He was already feeling better. He would tell himself that enough times to make it true.