Golden Wings

Goldengale lay just outside of the nursery, her legs stretched out on the ground. The breeze was chilly today, and with the moons she had spent in the warm nursery she had almost started to feel a bit spoiled. Soon, much too soon, in her opinion, Crowkit would become an apprentice and take his first steps into the territory, with so much danger lurking behind every corner, and under the ground itself. The thought was enough to make her shudder, fear gripping her heart as she thought of her son grasped in the jaws of one of those foxes. Lifting her head to scan the outer edge of camp, she caught a glimpse of the scars wrapping around her hind leg, a reminder of the power behind the foxes grip. No, she could never live with herself if he was harmed. Grousefrost too.... She needed to get back to her duties quickly, to help as much as she could, and make up for lost time. For now, however, things had been quiet, and still. Almost too quiet, like there was an unknown plan in motion. Only the rapidly passing heartbeats could tell what the day would bring.

Crowkit played near his mother, tumbling around and pouncing on her tail. He already at four moons, the other kits in camp had just grown old enough to wrestle and run around. He hoped to make some new friends today, and interact more with his denmates. The young tom, so oblivious to the signs of destruction around him, saw the scars as trophies, gained in valiant battles where the good cats always won and the bad cats or the predators were defeated. He looked up, tail flicking, eyes bright. “I wanna play battles! I’ll be WindClan.” Fur bushed, he stood ready to defend his camp from whatever “danger” awaited him. Maybe others would join in, too!

Another day, another pelt carefully groomed free of brambles, another piece of prey in his jaws. The silver and white tom padded down the entrance into the small crater that his clan called home. A lark lay between his jaws. The chilly winds of leaf fall weren’t in cats favour to getting rabbits. It kept erratically changing direction, which made it difficult to stay downwind for the traditional stealthy approach. The buffeting force disbalancing enough that it was wiser and smarter to catch the migratory birds heading wherever it was they went.

His gaze assessed the camp. Then settled on a golden pelt, with a small fluffy black one next to her. He padded towards them, the lark’s brown wing in his face as he laid his prey before Goldengale before purring and nuzzling her in greeting. Catching the little tom’s declaration for a game.

“Battles hm?” He asked as he looked to his son who’s pelt was brushed up in an attempt to be intimidating. He blinked, not certain how to battle a kit so small… part of him chastised the wasted energy, but at the same time it was painfully needed. Maybe he could teach his kit to avoid danger, or get away from it far enough to gain advantage. “We could do battles… or perhaps you would like to learn how to dig?” He asked, then glanced at Goldengale comfortingly. “Not in an actual tunnel until you’re an apprentice, but I can teach you the proper method of using your paws to dig effectively.”

Smiling as little paws pounced upon her tail, Goldengale turned to look at her son. He was growing so quickly, it wouldn't be long before he was out of the nursery. Her heart twinged as she gazed at him with a loving smile, and her mind wandered to who his mentor would be. Perhaps she would share the same mentor as she had? Or Grousefrost would take him on, as his mentor and father? Only time would tell, depending on what was decided. As pawsteps approached she turned to face who was coming towards the two of them, relaxing as she saw it was Grousefrost.

Purring a thanks as she returned the greeting, she smiled as she looked between father and son, pulling the bird close as their son declared a battle game. She hummed to herself, not sure how he would play battles as she looked down at the bird, when an idea came. Grousefrost began to speak about teaching him how to dig properly, and for a brief moment her breath caught before he continued to speak. "That's a good idea, you'll be one of the best! Knowing how to dig is a very important skill to have, Crowkit. Although, if you still want to play battle, perhaps your father and I can show you where to attack a bird, before we eat."

Crowkit hopped up and down, eager to play with his father. “Digging sounds fun! Show me, Grousefrost!” The young tom was easily swayed, mind flicking from one game to the next, and battling, momentarily, was pushed aside until Goldengale spoke. He stood still for a moment, trying to decide which would be more fun. His father had said he wouldn’t be able to dig in a real tunnel until he was an apprentice, so maybe “hunting” the bird would be more entertaining. “Can we do both?”