Finchkit's First Adventure {OPEN}

Finchkit panted heavily, gorse prickles clinging to his orange tabby pelt. "I almost got it!" He exclaimed to no one in particular. The kit was standing on a large patch of grass, elevated slightly from the usual flat clearing that marked Windclan's camp. From his perch he could see the small mouse that he had hunted so diligently, escape into the moor beyond. "Aw darn..." The tom breathed, winded. He had been ecstatic when the small rodent had been daft enough to venture so close to Windclan camp. The kit chased it through the elders den, kicking up moss, but was stumped when the mouse made a turn for the moor. Finchkit knew he couldn't leave camp, or his mother would give him a lecture. Coming to his senses, the tabby gave himself a glance, snorting when he saw the state of his pelt. I look like a gorse bush! He thought, wincing has he pulled a prickle from his haunches. Finchkit's pelt flashed with heat as he remembered the state he left the elder's den in, during his hot pursuit of the stray mouse. "I suppose I should go help clean up..." He whispered to himself, turning on his paws on a path toward the den, hoping no one would notice the mess of his first adventure.

The red-furred kit slipped easily from the nursery. Her tiny, darker paws barely skimmed the well-trodden earth of Windclan camp. Despite a lack of true sunlight that seemed to send chills into the pelts of those within the somewhat sheltered clearing, there was an unusually warm draft that staved it off. Brookkit purred softly as the rays soaked into her beautiful coat. She had barely remembered anything other than strange glow that hung over the sloping moorlands; she did not even yet know life outside of camp. However, life had seemed to go by fast. Before she knew it, the young she-cat would live in the apprentice's den. Her mother had already returned to warrior duties as soon as she could. The other queens took care of them all well. Life in the nursery was good for them.

A noise caused her ear to twitch slightly and she caught sight of a tom kit. He seemed to be watching something. Out of interest, Brookkit settled back onto her haunches and neatly wrapped her feathery tails over her paws. Her hazel eyes appeared to dance between a light amber and moss green while she gazed upon the other kit, waiting for something to happen. As the other cat, who she remembered was named Finchkit, blundered about a soft smile twitched up the edges of her maw. There was a light trill of laughter from the sides of her mouth with a low exhalation. When he headed back for the nursery, she was waiting along the way with her eyes trained on him the entire time. When Finchpaw was close enough, the she-kit let out another breathy giggle, "Did you just come back from a wild patrol, Finchkit? You sure look like it."

At the sound of being spoken to, the orange tabby cocked his head, stumbling over himself a little. Gazing upon the speaker, his yellow eyes widened ever so slightly, and he let a small breath escape his nose. Brookkit... Finchkit thought to himself, conjuring up the she-cat's name. The kit opened his mouth to give a response, and then closed it, remembering his current condition of "looking like a gorse bush." Finchkit lowered his head to rip another prickle from his fur, watching the she-cat intently. "No," he mumbled playfully, the gorse in his jaws distorting his speech. "...I was rescuing the elders from a mouse!" Finchkit dropped the prickle on the ground and swept it away with his tail. "But then I was attacked! By a gorse bush! Those things are dangerous, they show no mercy..." The orange tabby breathed, walking in circles, trying to remove another prickle from his back.
"You really should be careful." Finchkit stated, giving up on the prickle, and settling in front of Brookkit. "One might get stuck in your fur, and that would be terrible." Her fur is pretty... Finchkit thought, thinking that it somewhat resembled the red ring of "sun" that now hung high in the sky.

Swiftstep had been watching his clanmates from the camp's center when he spotted a rather comical scene. A little kit was speaking to another while pulling prickles out of his pelt. The tom was curious enough to try and ask what happened. With a snort of laughter, Swiftstep got up and walked over to the duo kittens. His amber gaze held a twinkle of curiosity. Once he was standing right behind young Finchkit, he gently prodded the tom-kit with a paw. "How come your pelt looks like it went through a few bushes?"

The she-cat continued to watch in amusement as the other kit tried to explain his adventures. Seemingly woven throughout his pelt were several prickles of gorse. Despite his normally handsome fur, the tom now did look like he could pass for a gorse bush. Brookkit almost felt bad for him but was mostly enamored by the hilarity of the whole situation. She rose and padded a few steps closer with the intent of helping, as she did, shooting back lightly, "The elders are surely grateful to have a kit like you saving them from such dangerous predators." Her speech was almost that of an older cat, smooth in its nature. Although she was still young, the red-furred kit was nearing her apprentice ceremony. Despite this, the kit like innocence was obvious in her somewhat ignorant calm and cheerfulness. It was for this reason she disregarded the sun.

As she neared Finchkit, Brookkit dipped her head to take the edge of a gorse piece gingerly between her teeth. It stuck fast to the other kit's pelt but with some coaxing, she managed to tug it away although not without the few strands of fur that clung to it. As she pulled away, her eyes were a silent apology for the pain as it tinged within her little chest. Brookkit merely wanted to help and the thought of hurting the young tom was saddening. Hoping he understood her silent sorry, the kit paused as she placed the gorse on the ground, "I can handle myself again the evil gorse bush." This time the light in her eyes portrayed the teasing in her tone once again.

A moment later a much larger cat joined them and prodded her companion with a paw. Brookkit looked up at him, recognizing him as the clan deputy. Swiftstep had always seemed kind so she felt no apprehension in speaking up to him, "He was protecting the elders!" She purred, half in defense of the other kit and half in a continued attempt to tease him in his plight.

Finchkit purred as Brookkit teased him. He closed his eyes and opened his mouth, preparing to shoot back a reply, when the orange tabby noticed that the distance between him and Brookkit had decreased significantly. Furrowing his brow, Finchkit stared at the ground as the she-cat looped around him and took a prickle in her jaws. The tom breathed through his teeth as the piece of gorse was ripped from his pelt, taking a bit of his fur with it.
"Thank you!" Finchkit gasped, yellow eyes light with appreciation and a hint of pain.
At seeing Brookkit's expression, Finchkit's tone changed. "Ah don't be sorry!" He crooned, giving his chest fur a lick. "You can't hurt me! And, I am very sure you could handle yourself against a gorse bush, I should have never doubted you..."
Finchkit giggled, teasing Brookkit made him smile, and he was grateful for the kit's willingness to help him with his gorse problem.

Finchkit jumped as something prodded him in the back. "Oh hello!" The kit mewed, twisting to view his perpetrator. The clan deputy!

"You're the deputy!" The orange tabby stated with a smile, cocking his head as he glanced at the tom. "Swiftstep…" Finchkit breathed, speaking to himself in attempt to jog his memory. He heard Brookkit speak from behind him, and grinned deviously as she played along with his story of "protecting the elders."
"That." Finchkit started, staring past Swiftstep and into the gorse bush beyond. "And I was attacked by a bush! Filled with prickles!"
Finchkit couldn't keep it together, and found himself giggling at his own story. After a while, the kit fell quiet, breaths coming in gasps from his laughing fit. The tom gazed at the deputy, awaiting his verdict on the story, a grin plastered on his face.

The tortoiseshell tom watched the whole interaction from the opening of the apprentices' den where he was laying. The darkness of the den obscured his back half in shadows, which was the plan. It bothered him to think that others may be staring at him and studying his disability. It's nearing Leafbare again, he thought to himself, green eyes flicking down to his paws for a moment. He hated Leafbare. The cold weather clouded his mind in a thick dark fog, thicker than what was usually there already. Besides, he wasn't long-furred like some of his Clanmates and the cold seeped into his skin and chilled his muscles and bones.

His eyes made their way up to the sky, peering up at the red haze. He had no idea when it would pass, when StarClan would return to them. Times were strange in the forest, with talk of a deadly band of exiled cats roaming around. Brindlestar seemed very worried about it. At least, that's what he noticed when he was with her. With a heavy sigh, Elmpaw shifted up into a sitting position, eyeing Swiftstep as he approached the kits. It would be good for him to go talk to people. He tended to coop himself up and ignore everything around him. Bracing himself, the three-legged cat limped out into the clearing towards the kits and deputy before settling himself down nearby.

"I...couldn't help but overhear," he began, curling his tail around his stump to hide it. "Next time, try not to fall into a gorse bush, okay? Then you won't have to spend time picking burrs out of your fur." Elmpaw then gave a curt nod of greeting towards Swiftstep. He didn't know the deputy particularly well but had no ill feelings towards him.

Swiftstep was smirking the whole while as he listened to Brookkit and then Finchkit explain the latter's previous predicament. He was about to speak when another cat joined in. The tom gave a light chuckle when Elmpaw said what had actually happened. He gave the apprentice a quick return nod greeting before turning his attention back to the kits. "Well then, I appreciate you protecting the elders from the evil gorse bush Finchkit. That was very warrior-like of you. Next time, however, try not to throw yourself at the enemy. In this case, in the enemy." The deputy gave a little wink. He sat down before speaking again, "How have ya'll been doing?"