Pretty Birds, Annoying Birds [Drizzlepaw]

Swankit was bored.

It was midday, and while most of the other kits seemed to be napping, she had snuck her way outside of the nursery to bask under the sun's warmth. But laying around doing nothing was boring.

Movement at the camp's entrance had the little she-kit's head snapping in that direction, excitedly watching as another cat entered camp. To her the she-cat looked like she could've been a warrior already, but she'd always had trouble being able to tell. It seemed like everyone but some of the kits in the nursery were bigger than she was, so it didn't seem to matter too much to Swankit's perception. This cat could go outside of camp, and that made her interesting.

"Hey!" Swankit called, bounding toward the she-cat. She was coming back to camp from... somewhere, so clearly it was time to pester her for information on where she'd been and what it was like out there. The queens kept telling Swankit that she and her siblings couldn't go out of camp... It was foxdung, really.

"What's it like outside of camp? Did you catch anything? Did you see those filthy Windclanners that Perchstar fought off? It's not as boring as being stuck in camp, right?" Once Swankit had reached her target, she was firing off questions, simply eager to hear anything other than the general quiet of camp.

A voice called out, but Drizzlepaw ignored it in favor of casting her glance around camp in search of Lavenderpaw. She’d been on a long patrol along the unfrequented parts of their borders near the Twoleg Farm, and so all she was looking forwards to today was a long nap in the sunshine.

The kit, however, ran up to her instead of veering off to question one of the warriors. Drizzlepaw blinked down at it, taking a half-step back in confusion. It wasn’t that she disliked kits, but she did find more mature and intelligent cats pleasanter company, and the barrage of questions was something she was uniquely ill-suited for.

The wispy-pelted she-cat settled for a brisk nod, though at what she wasn’t quite sure. Hopefully the kit would get the hint and move on to bother someone else.

The pretty she-cat didn't seem all that impressed by Swankit's questioning. and to only get a curt nod as an answer was not something the kit had expected, much less experienced before. Swankit frowned up at the apprentice as her excitement faded, taking a step back. "What, you won't even talk to a kit?" Whined the kit who was most certainly not known for whining. "Why are you all so boring and stuck up?" She huffed, tail flicking. Considering her answer had barely been a nod to her first round of questions - which question was anyone's guess - Swankit wasn't all that certain she'd get an answer now either. If not, well... She'd... She didn't know. There weren't many other cats to pester, at the moment.

Drizzlepaw’s ears flattened against her skull and it was only with a visible effort that the wispy-pelted she-cat restrained herself from an all-out hiss. It was just a kit, after all… she unsheathed her claws and held them at her throat for a moment with a shake of her head, hoping her meaning got across. There. She lashed her tail, once, and started pointedly off to find herself a piece of prey, heading over to the fresh-kill pile and hoping against hope Bratkit wouldn’t follow. If she did; well, Drizzlepaw was sure she could just… ignore her, until Lavenderpaw turned up and gently shooed her away in that nice way of his.

The she-cat's ears flattened, and instead of any response Swankit might have expected - like indignant denial of her claims, or shouting about how kits were rude, or simply turning and walking away, the unsheathing of claws that were pointed to the she-cat's neck was very different. Frightening, not that Swankit would ever admit to such a feeling.

It also got her point across. Quite well. Even Swankit's demanding, still kittish demeanor couldn't deny that. A million questions filled her mind at the reaction, questions like 'why?' and 'what happened?' but Swankit was far too intimidated to ask as she stared up at the she-cat with wide eyes, her own ears flattened in response. If she were older, perhaps the idea of an apology would have also crossed her mind.

A lash of the tail, and the she-cat was padding away toward the fresh-kill pile, leaving the kit to stare after her in mute shock for several moments. Swankit finally turned back toward the nursery. Maybe... Maybe she could pretend that this didn't just happen in the middle of camp.