"Contemplation"
"Hmph. Hasn't opened his eyes yet, has he?"
"Not yet. Real shame too - I was hoping for all of my kits to bloom at the same time. Shykit and Redkit are looking a little restless. I told them they couldn't explore any portion of the camp until Featherkit's eyes are open."
Frogjaw brushes up against his mate, contentedly resting his white jaw atop the crest of the dark gray queen's head as they survey their second litter. "Redkit looks like she'll be a fighter," he surmises in murmured thought, watching his little scrap of a daughter wrestle around the nest for the perfect milk spot. "Remind me again why we settled on Shykit for him?" He gestures to the spotted tabby tom, perfectly still as he sleeps soundlessly.
"He hasn't spoken a word," Shallowfern reminds him and sweeps her tail around her litter in a protective motion. "Russetburr said he didn't cry or wail during birth. He'll always be my shy little bumblebee." She nuzzles the kit affectionately.
"You can't be too soft on them," Frogjaw reminds the gray feline, watching her face fall in realization. "They'll be hunters, fighters, stone faced warriors. They'll be the pride and joy of RiverClan. Our bloodline is vital. We can't afford to raise timid scraps of fur. Reedpaw and Smoothpaw turned out alright. Duskpaw too. I'm not too sure about Sunpaw. He's too aloof lately. Perhaps we need to schedule an intervention."
Shallowfern swishes her tail in contemplation. "At least not right now. Sunpaw can learn from his older brothers. I'm more worried about raising these three right now. Do you think they'll be difficult to raise?"
Frogjaw chuckles, low and warm. "Shallowfern, my sweet waterside mallow bundle, you've already raised four rambunctious toms. I think you can safely handle another trio. And look, we finally have a daughter."
"I'm still worried about Featherkit. What if he doesn't open his eyes?"
"If anything, we should be more worried about Shykit. A kit that doesn't wail or whine as a kit is surely marked by StarClan. I'll have a word with Russetburr today."
Shallowfern doesn't look convinced.
Frogjaw stretches out his rippling muscles beneath a well groomed coat. "Featherkit will be fine, I promise. Besides, nothing a little extra training won't help. He'll be a noble warrior - I can sense it. Even with that fluffy name you gave him."
"He's the softest of the three," Shallowfern argues gently, doting after her youngest with a motherly swipe of tongue across his rumpled head fur. "Like bird feathers. . ."
"Shallowfern, why is it we can't visit the elders den?"
Shallowfern glances down at the kits curled up against her belly. Apparently she was wrong to think they'd all be asleep by now. Curiously enough, it's only one kit as opposed to the trio asking a barrage of aimless questions. Redkit asks questions all the time, eagerly wanting to know more about the techniques they'll learn from their father when they're old enough. Sometimes, even for a quiet kit, Shykit manages to squeak out a query once in a while. Most of the time they're basic statements; "Are we allowed to go outside?" or "Can we play with Ripplemask's kit?" This time, it's Featherkit - who just so happens to be the most inquisitive.
"That den breaks from reality," Shallowfern answers matter-of-factly. "While they are nice cats - you'll meet them someday - they tell stories for amusement. And that's the point, they're stories. You can't live off of mere stories to make it through life. You'll be a brave little warrior, Featherkit. I can tell. But you mustn't stuff your head with folly and falsehood. We live in a world slightly different from theirs. You must focus on your mission. You'll become a great warrior. Fighting and hunting is much more important than stories. Do you understand?"
The tiny kit bobs his head. "I think so," he squeaks.
A silky smile blossoms on the queen's face, impressing her son and urging him to express a certain innocent tenderness in return. "That's my little warrior. Now come along and let's go to sleep." In finality, she drapes her tail gingerly across the backs of her second litter.
Yet, Featherkit continues to speak. "Um, Shallowfern?"
Shallowfern grunts, suppressing her fatigued annoyance. "Yes, darling?"
"I can't sleep. Can you tell me one to help me fall asleep?"
"One what?" Shallowfern thinks she knows the answer but keeps her thoughts to herself, hoping for the best.
"One story," the youngest kitten beams with a proud little puff of his chest to expose that white dash.
"Now, Featherkit," the gray she-cat warns, vocals dropping with a scowl replacing her velvet features. "What did I just say? Stories stuff your head. Pointlessly, might I add. Wouldn't you rather have your mind full of useful information? Hunting skills, fighting techniques. . . Things like that."
"Yes. . ."
"Then we'll stop this story nonsense," Shallowfern insists, ending their discussion. "I think tomorrow we should introduce you three to Pikestar. The deputy's kits are prized possessions after all. He'll take a liking to you. Now. Sleep."
"Oh hello there, youngster! Come on in, don't be shy."
Blinking owlishly, the tiny scrap of feather-soft fur shuffles the rest of the way through the lichen draped log and steps timidly into the light.
"Oh! You must be part of Shallowfern's litter." A great big brown tomcat sits in a mossy nest off to the right. "I've heard about you three. Can't say I've seen any of you recently. You're the first to come and visit me and Icethroat."
It's this announcement that draws the little kit's attention to another tom in the den. Gray fur tinges his dulled brown coat, a thick stripe of faded white stretching from his throat to his underbelly. Obviously this is the Icethroat that the other cat is referring to.
"Pardon me, where are my manners?" the younger brown cat mrrows, sitting upright in his nest. "I'm Thornswipe. And what's your name?"
"F-featherkit, sir," the black kitten answers politely and honestly, bowing his head in the presence of the elder feline.
"And so polite too!" Thornswipe exclaims his glee. "Well, don't be shy Featherkit. Come closer. Would you like to hear a story? Your siblings haven't stopped by to hear one."
Featherkit takes a tentative step forward, almost hesitant in nature. "I'd enjoy that," he mews quietly. "But I don't think Shallowfern would like that. She says I shouldn't stuff my head with stories and focus on more important things like learning how to hunt and fight."
"You're only a kit," Thornswipe's smile falls faint. "You should be running around camp exploring the dens and getting into trouble. You should be calling Shallowfern 'mama' and dashing to her when things get too scary. You should be coming her to listen to stories and fill your heads with dreams and possibilities. You can be a great warrior one day, Featherkit. Come and stay."
Featherkit looks conflicted, looking back between the log and the elders.
"Let the kit go, Thornswipe," a raspy wheeze sounds from the other side. Icethroat has lifted his head and stares hollowly in the direction of the spiky furred brown cat. "It's not in your place to keep him here. If his mother wishes him to leave, let him leave."
"Thank you," Featherkit whispers quietly, somewhat of an ashamed whimper and he darts back the way he came through.
"But Icethroat -" Thornswipe weakly protests once the kitten leaves, only to be cut off by the aging tom.
"No Thornswipe. He is not yours to dictate. He has a family to think of firstly. Let him go. If he wants to come back, he will."
Featherkit doesn't return.
"Ow, ow, Redkit get offa me!"
"Redkit, freeze."
The booming voice of Frogjaw pulls Redkit away from her squealing brother as they previously tussle on the loose soil. Beside the great black warrior, Featherkit observes in silence, sitting in prized composure and compliance.
"Shykit, why did you call the match?"
"Because it hurt," the spotted kit whines pathetically, curling in on himself in a cowering motion with the dirt particles still clinging to his thin pelt. "I don't like this game."
"This game is practice for your future," Frogjaw tries to be patient with the tabby tomkit. "You must fight back. Redkit is a pushover, knock her over. You're a powerful tom."
Shykit wraps his tail closer to his central body. "Can I switch with Featherkit?"
Frogjaw sighs audibly, clearly displeased with his other son's response. "Very well," he reluctantly agrees, flicking his tail to announce the trade off between the brothers.
Obediently, Featherkit stumbles out into the ring of dirt to face his sister as per instructions without a second thought. As their father gives the call, the small kits crash awkwardly together in a rough and tumble clump of dirty fur. They weakly lash out with their useless paws, floundering for balance as they fall multiple times.
Frogjaw tries to not look disappointed. Shallowfern would say they're only kits, after all.
"Shykit, are you hurt?" Featherkit bounds over to his brother after the match, all kits sufficiently coated in dirt. Shallowfern would have a field day with this. He begins to look over the spotted coat for signs of injuries like he saw Russetburr do once when he'd been sent to the medicine den with a strong bout of coughing.
"Featherkit, go and find Reedpaw and Smoothpaw," Frogjaw orders as he approaches the toms. "Shykit is fine. He only wanted to avoid fighting. I'm going to have a talk with him. Run along, Featherkit. Good boy."
Mildly disappointed that he couldn't stay to properly help, Featherkit races away - still under orders from his father and leader-like figure.
He runs into Sunpaw on his way to search for the his eldest brothers.
"Where's the fire?" Sunpaw jokes, barely winded by the collision. Featherkit suffered more from the blow by the way he places a paw atop his head, as if clutching it in numb pain.
"Nowhere," Featherkit answers flatly once over his bout of pain. "Father sent me to find Reedpaw and Smoothpaw. Have you seen them?"
"For StarClan's sake, kit, can't you think for yourself?" Sunpaw huffs in annoyance. Featherkit stares up at him unblinkingly which sends a shiver down the older tomcat's spine. "Jeez, don't do that. They're over there tussling in the grass over by the small stream. Be careful not to fall in. We clear?"
"As a shallow minnow pool," the kitten replies without a smile, reciting the verse from memory just as his parents had when they were kits. Sunpaw rolls his eyes and saunters off, golden fur shimmering in the dappled sunlight. Featherkit watches him leave before charging off in the direction of the eldest siblings wrapped up in a mock battle of their own beside the little stream that ran along the outskirts of camp.
"You hate their rules too, don't you?"
". . . yes."
"Then band with me! We can form a little rebellion and get out of this life."
". . . that sounds nice."
Wandering in a tight stride with a tiny fish in his jaws, Featherkit passes by the brush behind the medicine den and overhears the voices of his brothers - Sunpaw and Shykit. He knows he shouldn't eavesdrop - Shallowfern cuffed him around the ear when he was listening in on a private conversation between her and Frogjaw. He decides to investigate, planning on telling Father and receiving praise for his efforts of catching a plot against the family.
"We should tell Redkit and Featherkit too," Sunpaw proposes. "Give them a chance to leave before they're raised the wrong way."
Listening in, holed up in the shadows unseen, Featherkit frowns. He hasn't been raised wrong. Shallowfern guided him, Redkit and Shykit very well. There was nothing wrong about her methods.
"You're wrong," Featherkit feels the need to correct Sunpaw, stepping into sight which shocks both felines.
"Featherkit!" Shykit squeals in fear and backs up into the overlapping shadows to hide himself.
"How much did you hear?" Sunpaw asks tentatively.
"Enough to know you're wrong," the kit retorts bitterly. "How can you say that about Shallowfern's teachings? She's been nothing but kind to us. How can you plan a rebellion? Nothing is wrong with our family!"
"Don't you understand? Everything's wrong with our family." The golden tom appears fatigued and defeated, as if accepting the punishment that would no doubt come his way if Featherkit was the 'good little warrior' his parents always claimed he was.
"You can't say that!" Featherkit insists with a kitten growl and tears out of the brush, Shykit on his heels yelling, "Featherkit, wait!"
The black kit does not waver in step, wailing for his father somewhere midst the midday bustle. He yelps in surprise as a sudden weight heaves itself across his back, crushing him to the ground and pinning him.
"You can't tell Father!" Shykit cries. "I don't wanna be in trouble! He'll get mad at us!"
"Then that's your problem!" Featherkit rebukes with a frustrated hiss and throws his littermate off with superior strength. Shykit tumbles to the soil and by the time he regains conscious awareness of his extremities, the little black kitten has already found their father and is currently perched beside him. Frogjaw flicks his tail, beckoning the spotted kit closer.
"Go get Sunpaw. We need to have a talk," he says without noticeable emotion.
Featherkit observes the fear in his littermate's eyes before the spotted tomkit turns away in hasty search of Sunpaw.
"Well done," praises Frogjaw to his youngest, looking down at the kit with an appreciative glower. "I only wish these two share your morals and ethics - your abilities to listen and submit. Some cats just don't know when to not fight the rules." At this, the great black cat stares down his other two sons involved in the conspiracy.
Shykit is trembling with fear, his thin pelt standing on end.
Sunpaw seems shamed. His head ducks low as he stares absently at his broad paws. He didn't mean to upset his father. He just hated the rules.
And those who rebelled. . .
"Shykit?"
. . . were punished.
The little kit jerks and squeaks in a terribly shaky voice. "Yes?"
"Come and sit by Featherkit. Your punishment will not be as severe as Sunpaw's seeing as you were being manipulated and subjected to bad feelings."
As the small Shykit comes to take a spot beside the youngest, Frogjaw advances toward the golden tom.
"Sunpaw, on your back. Now."
Already stranded on thin ice due to his plotting, Sunpaw decides it best to roll over and take it like a tom. Biting his tongue to hold back any harsh retort that would land him in more trouble, the golden feline complies, albeit begrudgingly, and lays down in the soil a fair distance away from the central clearing.
Had it been a truly severe punishment, Frogjaw would have wanted this event to be seen by the public.
Sunpaw lays sprawled on his back, legs suspended and hanging in the air limply. Already he feels embarrassed in such a submissive position. But then again, that is part of the point. Frogjaw looms over the golden cat, looking positively feral. Baring his fangs, the much bigger feline bows his head, nestling his muzzle near the hind leg joint. His teeth grip a thick tuft of fur in the crease, yanking out the patch in a haphazardly jerking motion.
Beneath him, Sunpaw writhes at the jolt of paint as a tuft of his fur is ripped away. Near such a sensitive spot, no less. But it isn't over.
Frogjaw raises a single claw and sets the sharpened weapon gingerly against the pale flesh. He leaves it there for a few heartbeats before pressing down hard and dragging it agonizingly slow toward himself.
Sunpaw stifles his yelps of pain as a line of blood follows the tear, furiously leaking crimson droplets in the area between his legs. No doubt the line will permanently scar. He remains still in his motions even after Frogjaw moves - he hasn't been given the clear for movement.
"Get up," Frogjaw grows harshly, leaving no room for argument. As if in agreement, Sunpaw scrambles to his paws in a furious haste and aims to shake out the grainy soil clinging to the roots of his thick golden pelt. The black tom swerves to stare unemotionally at his other sons staring with vivid expressions. Shykit seems more terrified while Featherkit blinks with a hollow vacancy.
"That, you two, is what happens when you fight the system," their father announces proudly. "Our way of life is protected and perfected. You do not have the right to change it so easily. Take this as a warning or you'll be punished for your crimes against our name."
And now?
Now, Featherpaw holds himself poignantly posed in the middle of the field, water droplets releasing themselves from the sky with an announcing rumble. Supposedly, the arrival of rain would be cherished and praised, but Featherpaw can't find himself to care about a few drops as the water globs dapple his pelt. He shifts with a sudden bout of discomfort, reminded of his own scar that lies unseen under his hind leg joint - his penance for revolt. And also the matching mark to Sunpath's.
Absently, he stares in the direction Nutfur carried Brownpelt and then disappeared. His familiar empty gaze is cast across the field. Mindlessly, he scratches at the quickly dampening earth with his claws. He begins to thrash thoughts around in his head.
Is Nutfur in the right? Is there more to life than rules and regulations?
Or even worse;
Do I always have to do as commanded?
Or am I free to speak my mind and act as I please?
A/N:
Ehh, I don't feel I expressed his kithood very well. I might return to this and add on in a later chapter in depth but for now I hope you can get a sense for what Featherpaw's early days were like.
BrightMind : [chapter eight] I know right? Someone needs to be knocked down a peg or two :3 And I like where your head is at for Oakfrost. Many a person, myself included, believe she'd be a barrier - a comfort zone, but you've considered her making the situation worse. Hmm.
[chapter nine] Yeah, if only Brownpelt had heard. . . then maybe some burnt bridges could be repaired. Guess they've got another chapter to make sense of it all and make up for each other.
Ankaa Morningstar : OK, yeah, he is the most developed out of everyone but I suppose that alludes to the story's true main character and who this tale is really about~ I'm a bit mad at myself for not expressing his full kithood how I planned, but eh. It'll come up again.
Starrysong likes Snowstorms : Yep, yep, yep.
BooksRCoolYeah : Hopefully this answered some questions you had about his past.
Pondfrost : Hope you got a decent insight on Featherpaw's early life. And as for Nutfur? Yeah, he doesn't snap easily but I guess Featherpaw pushed his buttons one too many times. Oh yes, applaud me for my titles :3 I've found plenty of words that end with 'ation'.
QotC: I've alluded to the fact that Featherpaw bears the family 'shame scar' - the mark of wrong doing. If Sunpath received his by trying to convert the younger generation against their submissive and pliant lifestyle, obedient and always willing to carry out orders, what crime do you think Featherpaw did to earn his?
- Snarky