discovered sunshine [open/Dawn adopted litter]

What felt like forever ago, Dawnfeather had stumbled into Fourtrees after a hunt, dropping a pair’quail on the fresh-kill pile, then paused to lick down her fur. It was a good day, today, beautiful, with a brisk wind that ruffled her pelt- but there was a bit, just a feeling of sadness and tension in the air, and Dawnfeather? She couldn’t simply let that rest. A few of the queens, exhausted looking, were curled around a little kit, younger than the others nursing at their sides.

And Dawnfeather had asked, gently, whose kit was that, and the queens had told her of the death of Russetrye, a warrior since before Dawnfeather’s time, and that the kit had no parents- no father had stepped forward to claim her- and when Dawnfeather craned her neck to get a better look, and saw how much- how painfully much she looked like Smokema, to a grieving heart… she’d seen how tired the queens were… and she’d named her, quietly, and she’d asked her grandmother’s spirit to watch over her namesake.

And that was why, now, moons later, Dawnfeather was curled around a tiny shape, waiting for her to wake. They might do a little exploring, today, just around Fourtrees. She could still recall Prima talking about her and her littermate… they really do grow up so fast, don’t they Prima?

The small bundle of smoke-gray fur at Dawnfeather's belly was curled into a near perfect circle, one delicate paw draped over her nose and mouth. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, and the only sound in their little enclosed space was the kit's persistent rumbling purr as she slept.

After some time, though, she began to stir. First, the subtle flick of an ear, then one foreleg stretching out, then the other, both paws seeking purchase in Dawnfeather's warm fluff as they kneaded, gently, against her mother's belly. There was no milk, nor had there ever been in this particular place, but the comfort it brought her was the same... Smokekit never knew Russetrye. Her birth mother had passed in the kitting, and the golden furred she-cat that was curled protectively around her now was the only mother she had ever known or cared to know.

"Mornin' mama," the gray kit whispered quietly, voice heavy with sleep as she lifted her head to blink at Dawnfeather.

Dawnfeather could still remember when Holly had been this tiny- whenever Prima had stepped out, just to work the kinks out of her back or to get a well-deserved moment of quiet- and she’d curled around the three small kits, intent on keeping them warm and safe. Holly, Wasp, and Slate… she- she couldn’t remember, to her disgust, what words Prima and Muddy had said over Wasp and Slate… but Holly… may StarClan still protect you with defenses as strong and sharp as holly leaves, my little sprig. And- but then they’d been apprenticed, but Slatekit hadn’t, only growing sicker and sicker- and then they’d become warriors but Wasppaw hadn’t, going missing just before the ceremony she’d longed for so eagerly- and then Dawnfeather had returned but Holly hadn’t, and it hurt worse than the pricks of her namesake’s leaves.

A sleepy little voice broke her out of her thoughtful memories. Smokekit- the brightest ray of sunshine in Dawnfeather’s life right now (not that she’d ever admit to any of her Clanmates being more dear to her than any other, even those she didn’t even know the names of). Sometimes Dawnfeather swore, in the twilight hours between the sun and the moon, that she saw Smokefeather at the edge of the clearing watching over her namesake… but Dawnfeather’s eyesight at night had always been terrible, and as she grew older (not old, she wasn’t old yet-) it wasn’t exactly improving. Another thing to thank StarClan for, that she was born into SkyClan, a Clan where her keen daylight vision came in handy.

“Good morning, little wisp,” Dawnfeather purred, reaching down to carefully lick down a few stray hairs. “Do you want to look around, a bit, today? When you grow up, you’ll be able to tell the kits that you lived during the great quake-“ or technically right after, she guessed, but close enough. It was still fresh in Dawnfeather’s memory, a terrifying feeling as the earth beneath her very paws fought against her.