Sandkit was sleeping in the nursery. It seemed that all she ever did was sleep. Moons had passed since she was supposed to become an apprentice, but here she was still. She had long since given up on ever becoming an apprentice, and so her life was sitting in the nursery, sleeping. She'd tried sleeping outside once, and when no one tried to stop her, she'd made it her routine. But today it was far too hot outside, and so she lay in the shade of the nursery.
She opened her eyes groggily, finally waking up. But there was nothing else for her to do. Moons ago, she'd tried poking her clanmates that were frozen in time, hoping that they would wake from their trance. But it never worked. They sat there for ages, staring endlessly into space, some with mouths still open in the middle of a conversation. Nothing could ever rouse them, not even the heaviest rain. It had started to get depressing, watching them like that, so Sandkit had moved all those that were light enough into the elder's den.
Letting out a sigh, Sandkit curled up and tried to go back to sleep, but her restlessness drove her to standing and walking outside the den. She glanced at the fresh-kill pile. It was empty, save for two very old sparrows which were almost certainly not fit for eating anymore. Sandkit's stomach grumbled.
Oh well, she thought. I guess I'll have to hunt myself.
She wasn't a very good hunter, from lack of proper training, but she had managed to catch a mouse on her last attempt. It had been an old mouse, though, so Sandkit was unsure whether she could catch another one.
She headed for the entrance, and after passing through, set off in a random direction. Her sense of smell was perhaps not the best, but soon enough she'd scented some prey. What, she wasn't sure, but it definitely was prey, and she approached.
All kits had heard of the hunter's crouch. It was what they practiced when they were bored, what they begged apprentices to show them, what they showed off to the warriors. So Sandkit knew how to do the hunter's crouch, and, having what seemed an interminable time to practice it, she was much more skilled than the average kit. Her lack of training still hindered her, but she was able to sneak up on the prey - which she could identify as a mouse now that she was closer - without it noticing her.
Soon she was close enough and she pounced, her claws tearing into it as it struggled to escape. She didn't know to kill it with a bite to the neck, so she clawed it over and over, until it gave its last, painful breath and lay there, a bloody mess. She was too hungry to carry it back to camp, so she started to eat it right there, in the middle of the forest. It would have looked unappetizing, all mangled and messy, but Sandkit had learned by now not to care about the appearance of fresh prey.
Sandkit stood from her meal and headed back towards camp. As she passed out from underneath the cover of trees, she felt a light pattering on her back. It had rained many times in Sandkit's life, so Sandkit was familiar with it and the learning opportunity it presented.
When she reached camp, she headed not for the entrance, but around the side, to the ditch behind the nursery.
It was shallow, only holding a puddle-full of water. But it seemed to Sandkit the perfect place to learn how to swim. She leapt into the puddle. It only came up a few inches on her paws, but she was certain this was the right amount, and started to splash about in the puddle. Water flew everywhere, and her motions were really nothing like swimming. But Sandkit didn't care. Her life was dictated by the warriors. She couldn't do anything about becoming an apprentice. Swimming was the one thing she had control over, the one thing that she could learn all by herself. And so she kept on splashing in the puddle, and she knew, whenever she tried to swim, that someday the clan would be okay again.