fledgling [o]

It was a groggy sort of day in the WindClan camp. Fog wreathed over the sandy dip of camp. It was early in the morning; night guards were exchanging posts to get rest, warriors and apprentices were going out on patrols; elders were bathing themselves in the little sunlight they could find. Throughout it all, Ravenkit sat at the edge of the gorse wall, barely inside the nursery. It wasn't going to be long before he was apprenticed; he knew he was one of, if not the, oldest kit in the nursery at this point. There was less than a moon before his apprenticeship, and in that time, he didn't know how to occupy his time. Most of it had been in the nursery, playing pointless games of moss-ball, or something similar. Ravenkit had been lonely; he was generally juggled around by some of the permaqueens. If he was being honest, he couldn't remember most of their names. Loonwhisker came by every so often, never with much more than a few words. That suited Ravenkit just fine; if his father was going to be a rat-face to him, he'd prefer to not speak to him at all.

Ravenkit stretched slowly, staring out into the camp. He didn't like the other kits very much, and the queens were even worse; always babying him. He was almost an apprentice, for stars' sake! Maybe some cats closer to his age would be fun - or, at the very least, entertaining - to talk to. With that thought in mind, the tomkit padded towards the apprentices' den, hoping some of them would still be in camp.