Rushing into Life

Rushkit opened one lime green eye, blinking lazily. He twitched a long black ear, flicked his tail, and ruffled his whiskers, fidgeting with the urge to just stay in bed. It was hot, he was tired, and the sturdy kit didn't feel like doing anything. But his paws were itching to run, and his belly was growling like a warrior of LionClan. He lay there until his mouth watered with the wafting scent of fish, then leapt up and stretched. The black tom darted out of the nursery, leaving the milky, comforting scent of the den behind. When he got to the fresh kill pile, he reached out a paw to bat a small minnow towards himself. Before his paws touched the slimy scales, he was knocked backwards by a cat. "Oh, sorry!" he mewed, looking up at the feline he had bumped into. "Who're you?" Rushkit asked curiously, tilting his head and lifting his long tail into the air, a friendly gesture.