The first few weeks of my new life passed by quickly. I slept quite a bit, dreaming of my family, wondering how they were doing, and if missed me. I felt regret for not being able to stay with them, but there wasn't much I could do now. Car crashes aren't exactly reversable.

Between dreams of depressing musing and eating, I did feel a bit of impatience for when I would finally be able to walk around. I tried several times, but my stumpy baby legs could barely support my fat little kitten body, and every attempt was cut short by who I presumed was my new mother. And every attempt to curse her out, even though I couldn't hear anything, I could tell was just indignant squeaking.

Oh well, I suppose. Not much I could do anyways.

But something changed. I started to hear and see, and while my sight was blurry and hearing piss-poor, I could still tell I was two weeks old at this point.

Thank you, random cat facts I researched for stories!

Slowly, I grew stronger and bigger, and I could do much more. I quickly learned about my surroundings, sucking in as much as I could.

I quickly caught on that I was called Poppet in this world, and inspections of my pelt told me I was a silver molly with black stripes, broken up by large white patches.

I had a brother, much like I did as a human, and his name was Fluffball. He was a pale gray tom with very dark stripes that stood out against his pelt. He was also loud and would kick me in his sleep, a fact I soon resented him for as I become more aware of everything.

My new mother was named Willowpelt, and she was a kindly gray molly with dark green eyes. She had a soft, motherly voice, like the feel of velvet under your fingers in voice form. Her fur was soft and long, the scent of tulips clinging to it. Her features were delicate yet hardened, and her movements were precise and measured, something I quickly caught on to when I would try to escape the leaf and moss nest and she would grip my scruff in her teeth, placing me back in the nest.

My new father was named Whitestorm, an older, large tom with a white and silver tabby coat, long furred yet well groomed, a trait that I noted was clearly passed down to me. His eyes were a bright yellow and almond shaped, but they had a kindly twinkle in them, love shining in them whenever he looked at me and my brother. His voice was deep and smooth, yet friendly and clearly caring towards our family.

There were a few other mothers, or rather, queens, named Frostfur, Robinwing, and Speckletail. Speckletail and Frostfur didn't have kittens, but Frostfur was just discovered to be pregnant and, from what I could tell, Speckletail was a midwife of sorts, and clearly older. Robinwing did have kits though. One loud, demanding tom named Dustkit, and one quiet, caring tom named Ravenkit.

Dustkit was pretty annoying, trying to get me and Fluffball to play with him even though the queens repeatedly tell him we're too young to play, but Ravenkit had pretty cool vibes. He was quiet and would sometimes get punted out of the nest at night by Dustkit the menance, so he'd curl up next to us. I didn't mind it too bad. What wind got into the nursery was cold as corpse balls, so any extra body heat was nice.

Something I quickly noticed was that while me and Fluffball had names, dumb as they were, the cats around us had named like Goosefeather described. Prefix, suffix. Yet I soon recalled the fact he mentioned right after:

"Us clan cats are given prefixes two moons after we're born, which would be the equivalent of a toddler in your terms."

Upon realizing that, I wondered what my name would be. What could I even be named? I started to think about it as time passed on, and frost began to form on the ground every morning.

Hm. Frostkit? Nah, there was already a cat in the nursery with that name.

The sky was almost always gray, I thought. But Graykit sounds dull, and the name brought thoughts of dishwater gray with food gunk and soap bubbles.

Maybe something pretty like Wintergreenkit? I thought it sounded nice, but I wasn't sure if the cats even named themselves with such long names, or if they even knew was wintergreen plants were!

I eventually gave up though. I couldn't see much of the world I now lived in from this blasted den!

A month had soon passed, according to the queens' excited murmurings. Fluffball and I could finally walk around, much to Dustkit's delight. Thankfully he's only pounced on me once and I managed to nip his ear pretty bad. Heh, the loud bastard had it coming.

But Fluffball delighted in these play sessions, squeaking and shouting high-pitched battle cries as he and the older kitten tussled. He never won, but that only seemed to fuel his lust for battle. I would watch from the sidelines, eyes narrow and tail lashing in annoyance. I wasn't alone though.

Ravenkit turned out to not be a fan of the fighting either, and the two of us often found ourselves huddled together at the edge of the nursery, scrambling out of the way. We didn't talk much outside of a sorry if we knocked each other over or a goodnight when he crawled into bed with us.

Currently, I was sitting outside the nursery, wide eyes staring at the cats gathered outside. I couldn't make out their words from where I was, sitting just at the entrance of the bush we called home.

I sometimes wondered how it could keep the cold out besides the narrow entrance, but I recalled seeing how the bush branches looked woven in, which both answered my question and confused me. How the hell could cats do that?

Speaking of the cold, I shivered as the chilly wind breezed by, feeling like icy nips to my ears, nose, and paws. I fluffed up against the cold, suddenly grateful to have built in clothing.

I then heard a tom talking to several other cats, and something sparked curiosity in me. I looked behind me and saw that the other queens, including Willowpelt, were still sound asleep. I grinned. Good, no one can stop me now!

I bounded outside, coming closer to a clearing in the middle of camp.

Woah.

I gazed around in amazement, baby blue eyes wide and jaw dropped. It seemed the cats lived in a gorge of sorts, the walls a pale tan with many bits of grass and bushes sprouting from it. There were trees above the camp, thick enough to shelter the cats from birds.

I noted that there were several dens in the area. Many were small caves in the walls, while a few, like the nursery, were large bushes thickly interwoven with branches. I wondered who these dens housed and how many cats there were in the clan.

The grandest one I could see was a large cliff that jutted out from the rock walls, standing tall and proud and overlooking the area. I saw a small cave at the bottom, slightly off center of the foot of the cliff. In front of the cliff stretched a large clearing where many cats of all pelt colors and shapes milled around, although many of them were gathered around a small ginger and white tom with a thick-furred ginger tail.

I crept closer to the other cats, listening in on what the ginger and white tom was saying to them.

"- And I want Fuzzypelt, Goldenflower, Tabbypaw, and Darkstripe on ShadowClan border patrol. See if you can find any catmint to- winter's coming, and Featherwhisker wants to be cautious."

What the hell's catmint. My brows furrowed and my head tilted as I stopped near an old tree stump that seemed to act as an anchor to tightly woven ferns. I peeked out from the side and stared, trying to figured out this DaVinci code. I gave up, however. Ah well, more mysteries to solve later.

I did notice that I knew a couple of these cats though.

Fuzzypelt was Dustkit and Ravenkit's dad, and I remember he would check on his family constantly, bringing prey, a fun trinket like a feather or a pebble for the brothers to play with, or even things that looked hand-crafted, despite him being a cat. He was a loving tom, and he and Robinwing were that couple when they were together. I had no doubt that they'd play tonsil hockey in front of everyone if cats could kiss.

As for Goldenflower, I recalled that she would visit Speckletail in the nursery often, and faintly remembered that she was her mom. She was nice, although her voice was quite booming and ricocheted off the bramble walls.

But I had absolutely no clue who Darkstripe and Tabbypaw were. I wanted to ask Willowpelt, but I didn't feel like getting caught sneaking outside, and good god was my voice squeaky! I couldn't make myself not talk like a baby, so I mostly remained silent.

I was jerked out of my thoughts when who I assumed was Darkstripe, considering his jet black stripes and pale gray coat, yelled from across the camp: "Tabbypaw! Get up, it's time for dawn patrol!"

My eyes widened as I felt something move behind me. It yawned, and then yelled back, "Alright, alright, don't yank my tail off!"

It was just a few seconds later when a lanky tabby tom, seemingly older than me but clearly not an adult, pulled himself from the den and gave his shoulder fur a few quick licks. He locked eyes with me and sucked in a breath. I crouched down, lowering my head while staring up at the young tom.

He jerked his head over to where the patrol was impatiently waiting and yelled, "Darkstripe! Poppet's out of the nursery, what do I do?"

There was a grumble, and I heard heavy footfalls stalk towards us. I gulped, trying to back away slowly.

"What-". Darkstripe finally reached us, giving me a seething once-over. I shrunk underneath his glaring gaze and stopped moving, sucking in a sharp breath. Tabbypaw sat there, waiting for the other tom to answer.

"Send her back. We've got borders to patrol, so make it snappy." He growls, and then stalked away, his tail lashing. The tom next to me huffed, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Who put burrs in his nest?" He muttered before turning to me, a stern look in his eyes. "Alright, kit, I hope you've had your fun, 'cause you're going back."

I stood up, puffing out my chest and shaking my head vigorously. I wanted to explore the camp, damnit!

Tabbypaw's eyes narrowed.

"Okay, I guess we're doing this the hard way."

He leaned down to grab my scruff, but I ducked and made a run for it. I decided to see who's den the cliff was. Would it be someone important sleeping in a such a large den?

"Oi, get back here!" Tabbypaw yelled from behind me. I gasped and pull my all into the running, nearly reaching the clearing where some cats still gathered. My legs started to burn with exhaustion, no doubt due to how stubby my legs still were. But at least I'm a better runner than when I was a human, so that's something.

I heard pawsteps behind me, and quickly thinking, I swerved and started to move in a zig-zag fashion, determined to reach the cave hollowed out in the bottom of the cliff. Closer and closer I came, still hearing Tabbypaw's cries, although I realized with horror that I could also hear other cats chasing after me. I shook my head and put my all into bounding over to the den.

I needed to know now, curiosity burning within me like a raging fire.

Just a few feet and… Bingo!

I reached the foot of the cliff and looked back and saw Tabbypaw, a large golden tom that looked a lot like Goldenflower, and the border patrol were all chasing after me.

Oh shit!

I ducked inside the lichen covered entrance, sprinting straight into the flank of whoever was in there. I mewled in pain, backing away and shaking my head, a paw swiping over my ears.

I looked around. The den was spacious, leaving room for several book looking things, a half-eating rabbit, and a nest. The walls were smooth, providing ample canvas for what looked like cave-man drawings. I gaped. Woah…

"What was-!" The molly who occupied the den suddenly calmed down upon seeing who it was that bumped into her, although her confusion didn't wane. She sighed heavily

"Poppet, what are you doing out of the nursery? And in my den no less? This weather is no place for a kit as young as you."

"I…" I suddenly nervous. How to explain myself? "I wanted to see who lived here."

The dark gray molly sighed. Her blue eyes stern yet amused. "Well, I'm Bluestar leader of ThunderClan."

Her voice then become hard as ice, "But I'm afraid cats beyond myself and the deputy are not allowed inside."

I nodded, impressed. "You're den's nice! I dunno why you have to keep it hidden!" I blurted.

"Yes, well-"

I already beat her to the punch, standing up and walking away, saying over my shoulder, "I'll go back now, I just wanted to know!"

I could feel her bewildered gaze burning into my back as my small body parted the hanging lichen curtain. Several cats were gathered outside, bewildered. I smiled at them.

"It's okay, I'll go back. I was just curious!". With those words, a trotted away from the den, only for my scruff to be grabbed by Willowpelt.

"Poppet! You know you're not supposed to leave the nursery without a queen!" She scolded as she walked back to the den, although her words were muffled by my scruff.

"…Sorry. I just wanted to explore." I explained, hoping she wouldn't get too angry.

Willowpelt didn't seem angry, just annoyed as she murmured, "Don't do it again. You could catch a cold, what with blasted weather!"

I looked down and nodded, feeling a little guilty for making her upset.

"I won't." I said quietly.

"Good."