Dawnkit hovered around the elder's den, tiny face worked up in a frown, a rare expression for her to wear. She knew this was the elders' den. Grandsmoke had told her so. However, she didn't know how, exactly, one went about requesting a story. She could always ask Smokema, but Smokema looked tired. She needed to sleep. The other elders looked kinda mean. Imposing, maybe that was a better word. The red one was red, and red was an angry color. Also, his name was Fox something, and foxes were angry. Foxanger was out of the question. There was another elder, she thought, but he didn't seem very nice either. His name was Somethingmane, and manes were on lions, and lions were angry.
Dawnkit poked her head inside, looking like she expected her head was about to get eaten. She didn't see Foxmane and Smokema was asleep- or maybe that was just moss. It was dark in the elder's den, and hard to see. Dawnkit abruptly remembered there was another elder. Wrenspring. He was aunt Ravenclaw's mate, she thought. She hadn't met either of them yet, but Wrenspring was a nice name. Wrens were nice birds, and spring was nice to say. (She didn't quite want to meet Aunt Ravenclaw yet. Claws were sharp and angry and Ravens were mean.)
She bounced into the elders' den, careful not to step on Grandsmokema. "May I have a story pretty please?" She whispered. "We can't wake up Smokema. You are my uncle, Wrenspring, right? Moma told me about you and Aunt Ravensnarl- er, claw."
