It took me a while to type up this next chapter. It was interesting; I knew in the back of my mind EXACTLY what was going to happen, but I just. couldn't. write. it. down.

I have a prickling feeling that this chapter could've been better, but it was the best I could do at the time, so here's chapter four.

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An Unattended Voyage

The next morning was dull and hazy, with mist so thick and wind so strong that one's paws would drag slowly back in the opposite direction whenever he stopped walking. It was like wading through the chilly river opposite the way it normally flowed.

It was the kind of morning that made one desperately wish to stay in the warmth and comfort of their bed.

Nearly all the cats in the FrostClan camp were groggily hovering by the fresh-kill pile, slowly making their way through their scrawny meal and cuddling close to others for warmth. Even Dragonpaw and her cousin were walking closely as they sluggishly made their way to the food.

But in total contrast to the gloomy feeling of outside, Burningkit was sparkling with an energy found only in children. He stuck his nose out of the nursery door, poked his head back in, and stared, cross-eyed, at the water droplets which formed on his fur. His pupils widening, Burningkit batted his nose, only to accidentally scratch the top of his muzzle.

"Ow," mumbled Burningkit. His dark eyes peered towards the clearing. He wanted to go outside; he always had. And somehow, he felt today was the perfect day to head out into the world.

The kitten rubbed his chocolate-brown fur against the dull-gray pelt of his warm mother, who was half asleep in her nest. Darkspirit blearily looked up, her blue eyes half open, and burbled, "What's wrong, son? Can't it wait until morning?"

Burningkit scowled irritably, "It is morning. And I just want to know if I can go outside."

"What? You don't need to wake me up to ask that. Go along, but stay in the camp." With that, Darkspirit turned over, curled up again, and her breathing became long and soothing. Burningkit was tempted for a moment to snuggle up beside her, but then he looked outside again. I wonder what's out there today?he thought as he bounded over to the entrance and leapt into the camp.

Almost at once, a blast of icy wind whipped through his fur, searing his eyes. The kitten was so light that he was blown back into a bush at the edge of a camp. Shivering slightly, Burningkit shook himself dry and blinked his eyes, trying to get rid of the pain. "Ow, ow, ow…" he whimpered, his dark eyes stinging.

"Burningkit?"

Burningkit stopped and sat up alertly. He perked his ears upward and stopped blinking, to at least try and appear to be dignified.

Littlepaw quietly showed herself. Her downy gray fur flopped over her azure eyes. "What're you doing out here? I thought kits were supposed to be confined to the camp!"

At that remark, Burningkit rolled his eyes. He was always being treated like a newborn. I bet none of the apprentices get babied like this, he thought darkly, but he didn't say so to Littlepaw. "Well, I was in the camp until the wind caught me and blew me into the bush."

Littlepaw raised a whiskery eyebrow and shyly ordered, "Well, I guess you should head back into the camp now. They'll get worried if they see that you're gone." She quietly gestured towards the clearing.

Burningkit hesitated. This was his first look of what the world was outside of the hollow. It was tall and mysterious, hidden by the misty blanket that had taken layer over the Valley. The trees were so… so new and unexplored… his senses were drumming like those of a real cat just by looking at the scenery.

He didn't even bother to look behind him. Burningkit knew that all that was there was the FrostClan camp, where the elders would be complaining about their bedding, the warriors would exchange news as they shared tongues, and the apprentices would be either play-fighting or out on their duties. Been there, done that. Burningkit had had quite enough of this.

In a heartbeat, his childlike wonder vanished, to be replaced by a cold anger which rippled in smooth waves over his heart. Why was he still being treated like a kit, anyway? He was almost six moons old. He was almost an apprentice. And these cats still didn't let him go out on his own.

It was more than his young heart could handle.

With a low growl, Burningkit scowled at Littlepaw and ran. He raced through the thorny thickets and waded through the mud. His fur got tangled with thorns and burrs and was moistened by the damp air and sludgy ground, but he didn't even care anymore. The kit's eyes began to sting again as he charged against the gale.

Tuning out all noises and external sounds, he continued to run. For a while he dashed, too absorbed in his own fury to even pay attention to most of his surroundings.

After running with all his might, the enraged kitten began to slow down. His breath caught on the wind, puffing into billowing clouds that quickly faded into the thickening mist. Burningkit slowly grounded down to a halt on a small patch of grass which hadn't been wiped out in the recent frost. For the first time since his encounter with Littlepaw, his anger faded with his energy. His anger-stained eyes slowly dulled into a quiet sadness.

He stared at his paws. His whole underbelly was caked in mud, making him feel uncomfortably clammy. His claws, which were unintentionally unsheathed during his run, had caught on to tangling weeds and prickling burrs.

Holy MoonClan…Burningkit sighed in his head, what am I doing? Poor Littlepaw is probably worried sick. The brown tom sat down sadly. He shivered, trying to shake off droplets of muddy water off his thin fur.

He looked around. The sky was an eerie gray, hidden by the impenetrable and dimming fog. The ground he sat on felt spongy, despite it being dry, and the air smelled of rain. Burningkit shuddered, his eyes frantically scanning his taboo landscape. For the first time in his life, he felt the deafening silence close in on him in a claustrophobic manor.

Burningkit whimpered and began to cry.

--

All while Burningkit was running away, Littlepaw was swiftly pursuing. Her swishing tail made gentle indentations in the muddy ground. "BURNINGKIT!" she called, her frail voice failing to approach the volume she originally hoped. She sniffed the air, her blue eyes clouded with fear.

"Oh, it's no use! I can't find him." Littlepaw turned around and lazily began to plod her way back to the camp. No! You have to find him! It's your duty as an apprentice of FrostClan, and as a friend.

Littlepaw stopped. "Crud," she mumbled. "I'm no tracker, but should try to search for him… no! I can't do that, because I'll probably get myself lost…"

She pondered momentarily, and then a stroke of inspiration hit her like a shining beam of the first light of spring. "I need to go back for help!" Littlepaw's eyes were still glazed with anxiety, but her smile was proud and confident. The gray she-cat began to sprint back towards the FrostClan camp, hoping to find the help she needed to search for the lost cat.

--

I came up with one thing

And I don't believe I'm wrong

That nobody

But nobody

Could make it here alone

The poem exurb is from "Alone" by Maya Angelou.

I think that this story has more angst than I originally intended… ah, well. It actually fits better. X3