Young as he was, Daykit liked to think that he already had several things going for him in life - firstly, that he was hardly the smallest kit in the nursery; secondly, that he only gave his mother grief every so often and was instead, he was certain, an overall delight.
But presently, and pressingly, he also possessed an important third thing.
He understood keenly just how little he knew.
ShadowClan's scent mingled with the familiar scents of his home more and more, these days. He understood that it was unusual, tasted the slight edge of stress in the air whenever he opened his jaws. This was not how things were supposed to be, and everyone was simply making the best of it. When he sat, tail over paws, just outside the nursery and looked out onto the camp, it was clear that "the best of it" varied widely from cat to cat.
ShadowClan warriors who were clearly close and grateful to still be together. Cats pacing and mourning over the ones they were missing. Cats thanking or cursing StarClan, kittens and apprentices tentatively navigating the living situation. Daykit heard it all, and saw a lot, and moreover he was more than a little inclined to ask, if any cat were willing to spare him a moment.
What is it like? What have you lost? What have you gained?
He decided, then - he would ask the next ShadowClan warrior he met eyes with who looked remotely patient enough to indulge.
It did occur to Daykit that he would miss it, a little, when ShadowClan was gone.
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living like an ant in a microwave
