A Stick-y Situation...If You Will [open]

Was he supposed to be out of the nursery?

No.

Did his siblings snore like a bunch of elders?

Yes.

It was only right that Morningkit could make his escape, leaving just as the sun began to shine through the trees on the far side of the clearing. Despite the warm rays that began to illuminate their camp, cold still lingered low, causing the tiny kitten to fluff up his fur. With the unknowns of camp ahead of him and the snoring of his siblings behind him, Morningkit held his head high and trotted towards another patch of bramble.

If he looked like he knew what he was doing, no one would question him. Right?

Inside of this den, adult cats slept soundly. A few empty nests lay here and there. Their owners likely had gone for hunting or patrol if Morningkit was one to guess. It looked like a place he wasn't supposed to be. Thoroughly interested, the kit trotted through, inspecting the bramble before moving onto another empty nest. He didn't know who it belonged to. But it certainly wasn't his father's.

Oh foxdung! He had been caught! Scambling away, Morningkit barreled into the bramble that walled the den. Unfortunately, his very thick, ungroomed fur hooked on the thorns, try as he might...Morningkit was stuck.

Mistlekit had been awoken by Morningkit's ruckus as he sprang out of the nursery, leaving behind the warmth of nesting queens and their kits. She cared little for what mischief her brother got into, it wasn't her problem after all, but after he failed to return, tail tucked between his legs, the little she-kit grew curious.

She'd never ventured out alone, always staying within her mother's orbit for safety. After all, she'd been told by the elders that naughty kits that wandered too far could get snatched up by the Owl that lived in OwlTree or bitten by the adders in Snakerock that desired the warm blood of kits. But with each mouse's heartbeat that her brother lingered outside, alone, the thought he was off on some great adventure without her, tormented Mistlekit. Thus she bounded out after him, taking her first steps out onto the snow, shivering, following his pawsteps till she eventually found him tangled up.

"Someone clearly has moss balls for brains, this morning." Mistlekit mewed, shaking off the snowflakes that stubbornly clung to her kitten fluff. The chill had made her fur stand up on end and she looked like a particularly disgruntled cottonball.

"Yeah, well..." Morningkit managed, biting at the bramble stuck in his shoulder. "Well--" He struggled to come up with some sort of comeback just as he struggled to get out of the plant. After a few long moments, the kitten slumped pawing at the ground. Ears back and not looking his sister in the eye he managed a small; "...Can you help me out please?"

The leader stifled a yawn as he padded from his den, finding sleep clinging to his mind like cobwebs twisted into a long coat. Shaking his coat, the little brown and white tom tried to find a way to rouse his sleepy mind. It was a futile effort; he hated being awake in the morning. Patrols were already out and some cats had begun to stir but the camp was still rather peaceful. Everything seemed still and orderly except for the suspiciously young mumblings he heard coming from the warrior's den. Ever since Darkpaw's kithood troublesome behavior, the tom had taken up keeping a closer eye on kits. He didn't need the camp wrecked by mischievous little paws.

Stoatstar's tail flickered with annoyance but he sought to poke his head into the den and quickly found the source of the disturbance. No cat seemed to be coming in or out, and the sight was an amusing one. He settled back on his haunches and his whiskers twitched, "We might as well leave you there for the next few moons until you're old enough to be a warrior. Would be a shame to remove you now." He had yet to learn their names but was certain these were Mottlerose and Minnowfin's kits. It only felt fitting to give them some grief.

One... two... three... f-

No, there certainly were only three.

An alarmed prrt? came from the tortoiseshell's chest as she had taken a tally of the number of sleeping pelts were curled up within her nest in the nursery. Sure, her kits were now certainly old enough to wander around the camp on their own, but part of her always worried deeply about the day they attempted to go beyond the camp before they were apprenticed. It was moments like these that she appreciated the calmer nature a few of them had, where she needn't worry about where they tumbled off to. However, Morningkit almost seemed to take after Appledapple more than Minnowfin or herself.

Trotting out of the warm den with a purpose, her ears were pricked forwards on a mission - to find wherever it was her two kits had scampered off to. Fortunately, the frame of a short tom hiding within the entryway to the warriors den gave her a clue. She could certainly smell the trail that young Morningkit had left behind, and she took little time to cross over to her old nesting place. Picking up on the rest of Stoatstar's words, an apologetic gaze flashed towards the leader. "I almost agree. Troublesome kits such as yourself need to learn patience." She scolded, easily squeezing by with her own short frame to get inside.

Seeing Mistlekit's small, disgruntled frame, Mottlerose was quick to hover over her daughter and groom away the damage the stray snowflakes seemed to cause. Once she was proud with how Mistlekit then looked, her gaze went back to Morningkit. "Now what did I tell you about running into the other dens?" She huffed, beginning to work the brambles out of her son's fluff.

Mistlekit grimaced at the thought of diving into the brambles, the thought of her pretty fur being mangled and plucked out like Morningkit's pelt was very unappealing. Luckily she was spared this horror by the appearance of this strange tom and her mother.

As Mottlerose's tongue began to groom her, the she-kit leant into it, delighting in her mother's attention. She adored any time spent that her mother spent on her, after all, she was the smartest of her siblings. The most responsible and excellent. Of course her mother doted on her. When the queen was done, Mistlekit trotted over to Morningkit to give him a once over.

"Momma, Morningkit was sneaking out of the nursery and got into this mess. He's being naughty. We should tell Stoatstar he's a silly kit that isn't ready to be an apprentice." Little did she know, Stoatstar was right there, she was too busy rejoicing in her brother being in trouble.

Morningkit scrunched up his face as an older tom approached. "You think so?" He asked, eyes widening with excitement. "I'll be the best warrior ever! Morning, uh, Morning...paw...so..." He hummed, gazing off into the distance. "What would my name be...?" He ducked his head to the side, letting his mother work the brambles out of his thick pelt. At his sister's words, Morningkit spluttered for words, fur spiking. "They can see, Mistlekit!"

Stoatstar offered her a flicker of a smile, reassured by the doting nature of Mottlerose as a mother. He wouldn't have expected anything less. In fact, he'd sworn one of these days that she'd attempt to tuck him into her nest and force rest and care upon him. The tom wanted to snort, what a silly and wonderful creature the young queen was. Minnowfin had chosen a good mate and he had no doubt that the two of them would raise wonderful kits... even if they were up to some entertaining antics every now and then.

As the kit's littermate told the tale of this mischief, the leader couldn't help but laugh lowly, quickly choking it back. He'd shifted aside to let Mottlerose in but leaned back to meet both of their gazes in turn. Winking at Mistlekit, the leader continued to speak, "I don't know, Morningkit, Mistlekit might be right. I think you might need more training first. Brambles are hardly a fitting opponent for a warrior. " He tipped his head slightly, curious as to how Morningkit would respond to such a judgement.

"You know... it's your father who sits upon the Highrock and gives kits their apprentice names." She casually dropped, momentarily recoiling when a bramble pricked her slightly odd paw. As Mottlerose finished untangling her son from the brambles of the warriors den, she did her best to move some of the thick, prickly branches back to patch a bit of the hole that had been created. It was certainly small, but enough to let unwanted cold creep in. Even if she hadn't yet moved back into the warriors den, she still cared about each and every occupant.

Picking up Morningkit by his scruff, she placed him close to her chest so she could swipe out any remnants of the brambles. His fluffy pelt offered an odd challenge, as she hadn't any experience with keeping such a coat. But thankfully, it seems very few snags remained, so Morningkit got released from his grooming prison rather soon. "Well, Stoatstar, considering you're already here..." While exhausted, and certainly feeling guilty for her kits behavior, the Queen decided she would make the most out of it. "Morningkit, why don't you go ahead and apologize?" She purred, hoping it would teach at least some type of a lesson.

Mistlekit was certainly her golden child, and she tucked the small calico close by her with her tail.

Morningkit, once freed from the dastardly den wall, gave his pelt a shake. Partially to loosen the fur that was caught, and partially to shake off the embarrassment he felt. "I'm sorry, Stoatstar." Morningkit began, lifting his green eyes to meet the gaze of their clan leader. "And I am sorry for probably waking some other cats all for getting too excited to explore." With the attention on him, the tom licked his shoulder for a quick moment. "I need training as an apprentice to get good and prove myself. That's why I should be an apprentice." With a definitive nod, the kitten inhaled deeply.

"But. I have discovered something!" The kitten rebounded from the solemn apology with a bright grin, bounding towards the leader. "The brambles are like claws!" He held out his paw to compare the thorns to his own tiny kitten claws, then turned back to their leader. "If that's true, then any other cat who tries to come at me will get stuck!" Morningkit bounced to the side, pretending to grab a cat attacking his flank. "And I'll have them right where I want them!"

"Don't apologize to Stoatstar," the saccharine-sticky droll of Loonpaw-Achelois' low voice coiled heavily upon the frigid morning in a sweeping curtain of misting frost, pale shape seeming to simply emerge into thin air within the shallow shade cast softly by her mentor's slight figure, "he could stand to use a little more grey fur to keep him preoccupied!" A marbled face, a twin dark mirroring splicing sharply down the soft cresting of her own high features, peered down at both Morningkit and Mistlekit- gentle fleckings of amusement pulling high and sharp upon the former wanderer's little face.

Curved ribs slotting tightly against the hard jut of Stoatstar's own, the young molly wreathed around the likely frost-bitten clutches of her familiar friend, soft face awashed in the limited light of the morning as she made her way closer to Mottlerose's young kits. Not terribly dissimilar to the very first time they had met, though Stoatstar was now her physical barrier should anything miraculously manage to go belly-up. Pale gaze carefully tracking a downy tuft of fur that drifted lazily across the chill air in the aftermath of Morningkit's freedom, Loonpaw cocked her head slightly. "It sounds like we have a future strategist in our paws."