This Is Home [open]

Scorchtalon entered the camp with Feather in tow. He had no idea how the rest of the clan would react, but he was sure they wouldn't turn away a helpless kit. He briefly recalled the day he and his brothers had made the journey to Windclan, though his memory of the day was fuzzy, he couldn't forget the relief and safety he felt once they'd finally arrived. Hopefully Feather would find the same peace here. He set the kit down gently, curling his fluffy tail around her small form protectively as he motioned to the first cat he saw.

"Can you fetch Burningleaf? Tell him we've got an injured kit. And Shrikestorm, he should know about this."

Feather, who had fallen asleep while Scorchtalon was carrying her to camp from pure exhaustion, bolted awake after hearing his voice again.
“Whatz zhat! Whoz dhere?” She mumbled, her words jumbled up from just awaking. She opened her eyes, and gasped. There was a.. a.. big group of cats living together! There were little dens for different cats and everything! But most importantly: there was a giant pile of food in the middle. Feather sniffed the air, and could hardly make out the scent of the prey beneath all the smells of the other cats.

Coyotegrin has just returned from a hunting patrol when Scorchtalon dropped a kit in the camp. She rushed forward to see the status of the kitten and they didn't look critical. Should be attended to none-the-less, but they were speaking. She cocked her head to Scorchtalon, studying the tom suspiciously. Where did this kit come from? It didn't smell of a clan. With a twitch of her tail, she eventually nodded. "I'll get Shrikestorm." She was curious on how to handle this. The warrior headed off to fetch the Deputy.

Feather, finally starting to grasp the reality of the situation: that her mother was dead, a strange cat had brought her to more cats, all with longer names, it was becoming overwhelming. Feather began to shake uncontrollably, out of both fear, and sadness, and having absolutely no energy left within her except for the little she’d regained from her quick nap. She opened her mouth and let out a soft whimper, eyes closed, body shaking, and nose twitching. It was too overwhelming. She couldn’t handle it. Her mother was dead. Her mother was dead. Her mother was dead. After this finally clicked, Feather shut down. Her breaths came out in ragged pants, her body was shivering uncontrollably for no reason at all, and she just curled up into a ball and tried to shut the whole world out. The strange cats, the lingering sounds of dogs barking, the new, odd smells, drifting around her nose, seemingly waiting to be discovered. She was done with it. Done with the world.