The Leopard Shows His Claws {OPEN}

Leopardkit trotted out of the dark, warm nursery, where his foster mother Mottledwing was still sleeping.  Taking a few slow steps out into the snow, he wrinkled his nose distastefully.  His paw-pads stung as they transitioned from the warm to the freezing, and he began looked around for a shelter.  He took refuge under a nearby bush fairly close to the nursery.  Scraping away the snow, he settled down on the muddy earth below, not caring about the cleanliness of his golden spotted pelt.

Glancing around the camp, he watched as it gradually became more active, as more cats were greeted by the morning sun.  Leopardkit was an early riser; he had been out before anyone else.  Eyes narrowed thoughtfully, he let himself sink into his own thoughts as the camp bustled around him.

ThunderClan is my home now.  Mottledwing is my foster mother.  Darkstar is the leader, and Blizzardshine is the deputy.....I'm going to be a warrior.....  His thoughts trailed off, and his face twisted with sadness and rage as he finished the sentence of things Mottledwing had taught him.  And my mother left me....

Leopardkit was an early bird, but Mottledwing was earlier.

The queen rose from her spot, her paws pooled by the warmth of her nest. The breeze chilled her, and she shuddered. She saw Leopardkit nearing the entrance, nosing the brambles that supported it. She furrowed her brow, and stepped forwards meekly. "Leopardkit?" Mottledwing cooed. She crouched down by her son, and ear flicking when it was touched by the cold fingers of the wind. "It's very cold outside," she examined, tail splayed out on the grassy floor behind her.

Her eyes welled with unreadable concern, she gave Leopardkit a nudge. "If you're so bent on going outside," she said, making her words as decipherable as possible, "I want you to be with another kit, at least." Mottledwing would hate for her foster son to be cold, and alone.

The young tom was distracted from his thoughts as Mottledwing's sweet voice rang in his ears.  Twisting his head to look at her, he listened carefully to what she told him, eyes round and worried, not so much with the fear of being in trouble but....for another reason.  Another kit?  

Leopardkit had never spoken to another one of the cats his age in the clan.  He hadn't really felt the need, since Mottledwing and Blacktwig were so nice.  Biting his lip, he hesitated in replying; What if the other kits are mean, or don't want to talk to me?  Or....what if they do like me?  Surprisingly, at the thought his heart was overwhelmed with anxiety and fear, in a feeling he did not yet understand.  

Nodding his agreement to Mottledwing, he forced out a purr.  "O..okay!"  Wiggling out from underneath his prickly hideout, he padded up to his guardian and asked "Are any other kits awake yet?"

"I'm not sure," replied Mottledwing, looking around. "I'm sure there'll be another early riser soon, though!" The fluffy, white she-cat, with a mottled red overcoat, purred at her adoptive son. "For now, you can play inside." Mottledwing looked down at him proudly, her fluffy tail thumping.

Nodding, he took a few steps back towards the nursery, but turned back to look at the awakening camp. He watched as patrols were sent on their way, and apprentices trained with their mentors. His heart yearned to join in their excitement, their joy; but a dark tug on his heart reminded him of his fate. You're an orphan, you'll never truly fit in here. Shaking his head, he chased away the thoughts.

Rubbing against Mottledwing's white legs as he passed, and went back to their nest. Snuggling down into the soft moss, he rested his maw on the raised edge and glanced around the den. He saw many other queens and their kits, still sleeping contently. Swallowing his deep worry, he put a smile on his normally frowning face and waited for one to wake up.

Mottledwing wrapped her lithe body around the breadth of Leopardkit's own, her hazel eyes peering out, and also contently watching the patrols come and go. She was a queen now - she had to remind herself of that. She couldn't join them like the bubbly Mottledpaw she once was, for she now had a new responsibility. She sunk deeper into the moss, enjoying its habitual, warm comfort. She guessed that her fur was the same to young Leopardkit.