Owlkit scurried out of the nursery. Hot on the trail of his sister, Palekit. He glanced around, kit-blue eyes flashing in the poor lighting. At last, he spotted his quarry. Palekit was dusty-grey, a shade that was considered unusually light by the darkness-dwelling Clan. Not that it mattered too much.
Owlkit himself was black with white toes on his front paws. He twitched his tail and laughed, bounding after the pale flash of movement. He slammed into his sister, rolling through the dirt and getting tangled up in the mass of warriors preparing for patrols. With a screech he was sent flying by a kick from the first-born and landed.
Splashkit watched in silence, letting out a huff of frustration. Her mother, Hawkfall, said that her older denmates played too rough. Never letting her precious daughter near them.
It was indescribably annoying and boring.
She let out a low growl. Tortoiseshell fur fluffed up bitterly. Why couldn't she play with them? Because her mother was an overbearing dungface, perhaps? Her eyes narrowed as she sat down. Pupils, dilated to allow her to see, shrunk to pinpricks in rage.
Splashkit was lonely, after all. She had no friends, and her only family was her overbearing mother. It would be so, so nice to be able to run freely. Paws stretching out before her, a close friend at her side. With a bitter sigh, she padded back into the darkened den for a nap.
Palekit pounced on a leaf. Her claws sliding out to cut the soft, weak material. She growled ferociously at the 'prey' and dug her teeth down in a 'killing bite'. Owlkit had long since gone to the nursery for bed, and the sun was just starting to rise.
Amber light stretched out over the forest, matching the dying leaves and staining her grey fur a dirty orange. Palekit blinked her eyes rapidly at the sudden exposure to light. She wobbled for a moment, making a decision. As soon as particularly bright light scored the mountains, she ducked inside her den.
Patchpaw sorted herbs, it was a cold night. Do doubt the first of many to come. She shivered, fighting back a yelp as an icy breeze pierced the wall's den. Sleep, she thought Sleep will help. The small apprentice curled up in her nest, shivering all the way into her dreams.
Patchpaw opened her eyes with a jolt. She was no longer in her nest, but in a beautiful forest. The trees themselves appeared to be dripping with glowing rainwater, coating the grass and brush. She got up from what must have been the most comfortable nest of all time. Patchpaw knew where she was.
"W-where are you?" She called. In response a pale, glowing cat erupted from the undergrowth.
"Pain is coming, Patchpaw. The hardest times draw near."
Before Patchpaw could say anything, the cat continued.
"You must find the meadow, before it is too late. Two new"
"W-what are you talking about, and what's the meadow? "
But she was already awake. Patchpaw shuddered and turned over in her cold, empty nest. Void of the brilliant light.