Headfirst [open]

The first of Newleaf came upon ThunderClan, and there was never a better day to be the first kit from the nursery.

That night, he willed himself not to sleep. He was determined to catch the morning patrol, when the sun just barely touched the tops of the pine trees. He felt like a warrior already, poised in a stalking crouch in his moss bed. He spent the hours peeking through the brambles and bracken, imagining himself following them to the edge of RiverClan and braving the dangers of the forest unknown. He held his breath at the slightest noise. Every owl's cry and loose rock falling sounded like the enemy. Just think, if I was the one who caught them. The queens would be so proud.

The harshness of Leafbare was still fresh and raw, and Lionkit was none the wiser. He was too young to know, or to understand, the perils and tragedies his clan had experienced while he was in infancy. Even his own personal tragedy's full weight eluded him: he opened his eyes to a surrogate mother, and knew no sense of loss. If he had any inclination to ask after her, he held his tongue. Whatever took her, it was a mystery, as was her name and the name of his father. They faded like melting snow, distant and blotted in some far corner of his memory. It meant nothing.

Sleep caught him at last, as it does for most kits. When he finally leaped awake, realizing his error, he barreled over his denmates to the exit and watched as the last tail of the last warrior on patrol slipped through the gorse tunnel. Defeated, Lionkit flopped to the ground, kicking up dust around him. "Rat-dung," he hissed, eyes flicking towards the nursery in case any owl-eared queen heard his cuss. It was their most common complaint. A cry of "Where in StarClan did he learn that?!" followed him like fleas.

He took in the morning, the sun now soaring up above the trees. He was not one for cloudgazing. He'd rather be pestering the patrol. Now, the sudden breach in the sky was shining over the camp and rousing all of ThunderClan out of their nests. Those who did not join the patrol were waking up, ready to share tongues. And there was Lionkit, dusty and unkempt, spitting his frustrations into the ground.

A slender brown and white warrior slipped from the nearby den. Thin scraps of moss still clung to his coat as he stretched out lazily, a wide yawn parting his jaws. Having an apprentice was no easy task. Auburnflare's paws had been busy with his own duties, plus that of looking after a young cat. There had been no time to dwell on his burning hatred towards Skyclan, save for the glares he managed to cast across the border at passing patrols. Thankfully, Irispaw was not yet awake, meaning the tom had a few precious moments to himself.

The morning sun against his coat threatened to send the warrior back into a comfortable rest but his mind was far too roused to settle down easily. Besides, his icy blue gaze had settled on the pale-fur of a kit. Lionkit? With a coat like that, it was a fitting name and easy to recall. Something seemed to have stir a fair bit of angst in Lionkit. Curiosity sent Auburnflare padding over and he looked down at the discombobulated fuzzball for a moment before meowing, "You might get further cursing the starss than yelling at dirt."

Lionkit bristled when he looked up to find a warrior looming above his little kitten frame. He felt very small looking at the tom, steely blue eyes aside, which in themselves commanded respect... perhaps even fear. The tom was -brown and dappled with white, and Lionkit quickly shuffled through the list of names which were passed around the nursery through causal gossip. "You're Auburnflare," he decided, waiting for a look of confirmation before shifting his eyes back down at his dirt-caked paws. Coat clean, paws dirty. This was how Lionkit lived.

"They left without me." The statement was nearly an assumption: an assumption that a patrol would ever wait for a kit before going off on their important task. There was a bitter bite to Lionkit's perceived rejection. It wasn't as though he expected to be welcomed into the group, but he at least would have liked to peek through the tunnel to the great, dense forest beyond. "When I'm a warrior, other cats will ask me to patrol with them," he grumbled, "They'll want me to be there. 'Cause I'll be the strongest. Like a lion."

It was hard to prevent his whiskers from twitching at the kit's abundant fury about being passed up for patrol as if he'd personally recieved an invitation. Auburnflare couldn't fault his enthusiasm. Memories of being cooped up with no outlet resurfaced as Lionkit glanced back down at his paws. That same feeling had sent him on a moons long journey of a clan he'd never known, returning to an empty forest. And yet, here he was, a proud warrior of Thunderclan.

"Well, I'd take you on patrol but Acornstar and Sageroot would have my tail the second we stepped out if camp." Auburnflare's tail flicked as he settled back on his haunches. Over the past season, his fur had grown in over the scars that told of his travels, leaving nothing but the sleek coat of a fully grown cat. As he regarded the kit, he couldn't help but think about how much he wanted to ensure Lionkit never felt like he had.

"We could practice in camp so you're ready for the next one. Think you can keep up with a warrior like me, little lion?"

Blazefang watched from the entrance to her den as the young warrior coached the kit. Their shared glances brought back memories of herself and Specklepaw. “Loyalty,” she whispered. “That’s what you taught me, Speckle. I was so mad when you sacrificed yourself, but you did it for me, and for your clan, just as these two may do someday. I’m sorry I spent so long being ungrateful when I could’ve remembered your loyalty.”

OOC: No need to interact with Blaze if she interrupts the flow

The tom smiled at Lionkit for reasons unbeknownst to him. Still, the warmth of Auburnflare's response glowed in Lionkit's chest and squared his shoulders. There was yet hope on the horizon. The warrior's earnestness had an effect. Lionkit tried to keep from salivating at the thought of going on patrol in Auburnflare's stride. He imagined himself trouncing through the thicket and catching dozens of field mice, stopping only to intimidate intruders into submission.

Practicing in camp? Would it look too ridiculous? Lionkit became acutely aware of a pair of eyes on him, an older warrior who he did not recognize. He couldn't disappoint an audience. He certainly couldn't back down from such a pointed command. He leapt quickly to his paws and took a few steps back from Auburnflare. "Yes!" he gasped, poising himself in an unbalanced prowl. He adjusted his paws, splaying them to each quadrant of his body, perhaps a bit too wide.

"The other kits are too loud when they walk. You have to step one paw at a time, and slow." He crept up to the warrior, his small legs trembling with effort as he tried to keep his balance, stepping in the softest parts of the ground with the pads of his paws. When he was a mere mouselength from Auburnflare, he struck out with nettle-like kitten claws at Auburnflare, stumbling just slightly. He peeked at Blazefang for approval and let his eyes drift back up to Auburnflare. "If you were a squirrel, you'd be in trouble."