Into The Light[Open]

Among the mass of warriors that crowded the clearing organizing patrols for the day, a small, dark-furred kit wove his way between the legs of the big warriors. Flykit was focused on his target: the camp entrance. Being cooped up in the camp was way too boring for a kit like him, especially when there were hardly any kits in the nursery except for one or two. Not that he had bothered to get to know them. He had his foster mother and his foster siblings, and that was all he needed. The ginger tabby suddenly broke through the crowd of cats to slip through the camp entrance, but just as he was about to reach it teeth clamped themselves around his scruff and he was lifted into the air.

The days had begun to pass in a blur for Beetleshade, one after the other, each blending into the next. It seemed to be an endless cycle, wake, hunt, patrol, sleep, repeat. She sat among the other warriors, only half-paying attention as the patrols were assigned as they had been every day before. She hadn't noticed the small shape slipping through the crowd, but it was hard to miss the bright streak of ginger fur heading steadily toward the camp entrance. Kits... She sighed internally, shaking her head before setting off after the youngster. She gripped the kit firmly - but gently - lifting them up and swinging them around away from the entrance, placing herself between the kit and his means of escape.

"Just where do you think you're going?" She said, her eyes narrowed crossly at the troublesome kitten. "Did you think you might head out for a walk? What if a hawk had swooped down and snatched you? What then? Hm?" Knowing kits, it was unlikely he had a good excuse for attempting to wander off on his own other than a simple whim, but she'd give him a chance to explain himself at least before carting him back off to the nursery for a proper scolding from the queens.

"If there was a hawk close to the camp at all everyone would be freaking out, not organzing patrols!" Flykit huffed, tail lashing angrily. It's not his fault that staying in camp was so boring! The small kit kicked a pebble out of his way angrily while the older warrior gave him a glare. He had heard the story countless times: If a kit went out of camp, they would get eaten by a fox, or taken away by a hawk, or stolen by a Twoleg, but had such a thing actually happen before? No!