A small she-kit stumbled out of the nursery den dug out from the roots of a large dead jarrah tree, permanently charred by an ancient storm. The air inside the den was stuffy and hot in the mid-summer heat, giving the small black kit a headache. A second kit soon emerged from the den, his grey fur matted with sweat.
"Hey Wrenkit," the grey kit whispered to his sister, "I think we should go back to the den. I know the air is very sticky today, but we can't be caught wandering around without a warrior or mother."
Wrenkit, the small black kit grunted. "Stormkit, you worry too much! Since most of the cats are out for a drink at the creek outside of camp or napping in the shade, it isn't very likely we'll be told off. And besides – it's not like we're going to leave camp, right?" Wrenkit encouraged her brother, Stormkit.
The grey kit thought for a moment before opening his mouth. "I guess you're right. But if we get caught, you're the one in trouble." Stormkit shook his head and padded towards a fallen tree and licked the leaves closest to the ground in attempt to collect some moisture.
"Hey, wait up!" Wrenkit unsettled the leafy forest floor as she bounded up to her brother. She was puzzled at why Stormkit was licking the leaves until he shook his head and faced Wrenkit with his tail drooping to the ground.
"No luck, sister. Licking the leaves only made me thirsty – oh how I wonder how caterpillars do it!"
Wrenkit purred and batted at her brother's pale pink nose playfully. "You're not a caterpillar, silly! We're cats, and cats don't eat – or lick – leaves!"
Stormkit wrinkled his nose in detest. "I know that! But since the creek is on the other side of the territory, there's no chance of water. I'm really thirsty, Wrenkit, and my head is all cloudy and I feel a little dizzy." The grey kit's tail drooped until it touched the ground. "I don't want to wake mother either – I'm scared she'll snap at me."
The she-kit sighed. "I am a little thirsty too – it is very warm today. The best thing to do is to sleep in the shade for now, I guess." Wrenkit trudged through the fallen pale orange eucalyptus leaves to lay on a cool, moderately flat stone in the shade. The black kit rested her head on her paws until she heard a cry in the distance – someone was in trouble! Almost forgetting her thirst, she ran up to her brother.
"What was that?" Stormkit thought out loud. The sound was clearly a cat shrieking in pain.
Wrenkit's eyes grew as round as a full moon. "Come on, let's help!" She urged her brother on, but without success.
"Oh I don't know…." The grey kit sighed, twitching the pale tip of his tail. "We really shouldn't leave the camp – not in this weather anyway."
A tom taller than both of the kits entered the clearing of BushClan's camp. He was a large, brown tabby with sharp, piercing eyes. His claws were unsheathed, revealing claws longer than the typical cat. The tom lashed his tail, the black tip darting through the air like an enraged blowfly. The tabby opened his mouth, revealing sharp teeth. "Get back to the nursery with your mother, Dustwing. The sun is too intense for you to be out here!"
Stormkit and Wrenkit had the right to be scared. The large tom was their father, Eagleclaw. Although the two kits loved their father, they both knew that something was wrong and they would only be in Eagleclaw's way. The two young kits darted back to the nursery where their mother was sleeping; agilely dodging shrubs in their path. Their mother, Dustwing, was waiting for them in the nursery with her amber eyes darting from side to side in panic.
"Hide!" Dustwing urged her kits into a smaller room of the den, purposely dug out by Eagleclaw in-case the den were ever to be intruded. Wrenkit was pushed to the back of the small cavity, with Stormkit following. With both kits in the second room in the nursery, there wasn't enough room for either kit to stand. Their mother's dusty brown fur brushed against a stray tree root, tearing a clump of fur out as she foraged around the nursery den. Dustwing returned to the small room and faced the two kits apologetically with a thick fern branch in her mouth. Placing the leafy fern over the kits, making them unseen from the larger part of the den, she whispered to them softly, but abruptly. "I'm sorry, my kits, but you must stay here for now. The time is not safe to be wandering around – not with humans searching the forest. Keep quiet and do not leave the den until I have returned." Dustwing forced a soft, comforting purr. "You will both be fine."
The voice of another she-cat yowled "Dustwing! Have you hidden the kits?"
Stormkit glimpsed flashed of her mother's fur through the gaps in the fern wall. He shifted his eyes to witness a small, white she-cat run frantically around the clearing, awaking napping cats. Stormkit identified the white cat as Wattlestar, the leader of their Clan. A roar of thunder shook the ground, making loose dirt clinging to the ceiling of the den fall off. The two kits scrunched their eyelids closed and crinkled their noses in attempts to decrease the amount of dirt falling into their eyes and nose. "What was that?" The grey kit whispered to his sister.
The rumbling grew louder and closer, then stopped suddenly. "I don't know…." Wrenkit whispered back quietly. An uneasy silence fell among the forest – not even the songs of birds broke the unnatural peace. Both of the kits heard deep, loud and rather blunt voices of some animal and the crunching of dry leaves as the strange animal walked nearer and nearer the two kits.
