A.N.: I want to thank those of you who reviewed so much for your kind words! And I think it's safe to say how ironic it is to admit how speechless and baffled I am at your kindness, haha. You guys are amazing.
Just remember that critique is always welcome, hot or cold, and I look forward to seeing your words in the future as this story of mine develops!
Chapter One
"Dreams are the touchstones of our character." — Henry David Thoreau
. . . . . . .
"Come on, Dawnkit! Wake your mousebrained head up!"
She winced at the voice, jolting her from a pleasant dream. The colorful imagery of butterflies and grasshoppers gradually began to evaporate from her mind. Despite the shrill call of a horribly familiar kit, she tried to recall it. Sleep was ever so tempting…
Claws dug into her flank, and a pained cry escaped her mouth. She snapped her head up, eyes wide in alarm. A blurry black blob hovered in front of her.
"Hello? Earth to Dawnkit?" The blob's voice was even more irritating up close. As her vision focused, she was met with the unpleasant surprise of Blackkit's face. He had the audacity to look irritated.
"I'm awake," Dawnkit huffed, rising to her paws. Her legs still wobbled a tad (due to her drowsiness, she told herself), but she relished in the sturdiness they now had. She glared at her brother as he sat back, looking satisfied.
Before she could ask why in StarClan's name he woke her up, another voice filled the stagnance of the den. "Blackkit, next time I catch you using that word, I'm putting you in time out. And don't hurt your sister."
Both kits turned their heads to a ginger-and-white molly, her warm green eyes stern. Beside her, grooming her tail, was a far less bothered tortoiseshell.
This time, it was Dawnkit's turn to look smug. Blackkit ducked his head, ears flattened in guilt. "Sorry, Mottleflower…"
"What word? Mousebrain?" the tortoiseshell snorted, pausing to eye Mottleflower. "Don't make the poor boy feel bad. That's hardly even an insult."
"Funny you would say that, Sorrelfoot," Mottleflower hummed, though her eyes had softened. They often did around her fellow queen. "Aren't you the one that introduced that word in the first place?"
Sorrelfoot gave a dismissive flick of her tail. "You're lucky I know how to watch my tongue. It'd be just terrible if I said the word 'foxdung' in front of them—oops," she smirked slyly.
The ginger molly rolled her eyes in exasperation. The two kits gave them both puzzled looks. Before Dawnkit could ask the unspoken question, Blackkit beat her to it. "What's…'foxdung'?"
Sorrelfoot's smirk grew wider. Mottleflower sighed, shaking her head. "Nevermind, love. You'll know when you're older."
"Okay…" Blackkit frowned, disappointed. Then, he turned back to Dawnkit, and gave her a rough shove. "Aaanyway! It's about time you woke up!"
The light ginger kitten looked at him tiredly. She could never keep up with his energy, and he was often an early riser. Being Blackkit's sister was almost a curse. "You're mean. I was having a good dream and everything," she pouted miserably.
The black tomkit rolled his eyes. "Don't whine," he said, using a line his mother used often. "Maplekit's already outside. We've been waiting for your lazy tail since forever ago!"
"Can't you guys go play without me?" she grumbled. She strained against an oncoming yawn, sliding back onto her belly. "I'm tired…"
Blackkit scrunched up his nose, as if what she just said was revolting. Promptly ignoring him, she closed her eyes. The warmth of the nursery was already lulling her back to sleep, her brother's grouchy mumblings a low hum in her ears.
"Wait, aren't you hungry?"
She snapped open her eyes. Wide awake, she fixated him with an excited look. Though Blackkit was known to be stubborn, he did indeed have a way with words.
He grinned. "You're so easy."
"Shut up," she huffed. She got up and looked expectantly to Sorrelfoot, who had resumed her morning grooming.
A particularly annoying scrap of moss was stuck in her tail, and she was having trouble getting it out. This resulted in nearly inaudible curses to be said. Mottleflower was watching her with loving amusement. The two of them were unaware of their kits' hungry, pleading gazes. Only when Blackkit impatiently barged forward and nipped at Sorrelfoot's ear did he manage to snag their attention. The two kits flinched when the tortoiseshell shot them a scalding glare.
"This is what happens when you don't teach them manners…" Mottleflower chided quietly.
"And who said that's my job?" Sorrelfoot retorted. When the ginger molly only chuckled in response, she reverted her attention back to the kits. "Yes?"
"We're hungry!" Dawnkit mewled. Blackkit nodded wildly in agreement.
She quirked a brow. "And whose fault is that?"
Their smiles fell into confused frowns. "Yours…?" Blackkit said slowly.
"I think it's about time you're off of milk altogether," Sorrelfoot said dryly. "I don't want to make you two plumper than you already are."
The two whined, voices rising an octave. Their protesting words mingled with each others, so much so that the queens flinched in unison. The tortoiseshell flattened her ears and bristled, about to scold them. However, Mottleflower beat her to it. "Hush, both of you. What have I said about whining?"
"But, mama!" Dawnkit pleaded, switching her attention to the ginger-and-white. She began to toddle, in an effort to look cute to win their sympathy. It didn't seem to be working.
"No 'but's," Mottleflower said sternly. This earned her a childish giggle from Blackkit. After shooting him a warning look, she continued, "Listen to your mother. You're old enough to eat solid food. All the big cats do."
"But we don't wanna be big cats!" Blackkit groaned dramatically, "We wanna have milk!"
The two queens exchanged exasperated looks.
Eventually, Mottleflower sighed. She rose to her paws and stretched stiffly, fighting back a yawn. "Would you like it if I walked you to the freshkill pile?"
The kits sighed. It was obvious that their mothers weren't going to budge. "Fine…" they grumbled simultaneously. Dawnkit caught Sorrelfoot's relieved blink in Mottleflower's direction before she grumpily stomped after her brother. They both glanced back to impatiently wait for her.
The two queens bumped foreheads, purring softly. "We won't be long," the ginger queen assured.
"I know," Sorrelfoot sighed, giving the queen's ear a brief lick. "I'll come out in a moment to check up on you. And please, for the love of StarClan, don't forget to teach them their numbers. They're disasters."
Mottleflower chuckled softly, giving her promise. They shared a final nuzzle, before the ginger queen turned and strode after the waiting kits.
Without so much as another word, Blackkit darted out. Dawnkit, relieved, charged after him. As she broke through tangled branches and bush leaves, minor pain lancing across her face and little body, she could already taste the scent of fresh air on her tongue. She scrambled determinedly onward.
Finally, her maw broke through, along with the rest of her body. The sunlight burned her sensitive eyes, making her skitter to a halt and clench them shut. She felt worn-down soil sift underneath her paws.
After a pause, she cracked open her eyes. Before her stretched the massive clearing of her Clan camp in all its breathtaking glory. Cats of all shapes, sizes, and colors went about their business. All sorts of dens made of varying material lined knotted bramble walls. Beyond them stood the sentinel figures of trees she had yet to know the names of.
Even though she'd been out here numerous times, it was always a lot to take in. This place was her entire world, and it was already so big.
"Eesh, took you guys long enough!" Dawnkit's head turned to the voice of Maplekit. "Any longer, and I would've had to retire to the elder's den!"
Blackkit huffed, approaching her. Dawnkit followed suit. "It was all Dawnkit's fault. She's lazier than a kittypet," he said grumpily, shooting his sister a glare. Dawnkit promptly stuck her tongue out in return.
"Don't call your sister a kittypet, Blackkit," Mottleflower scolded, appearing behind them. The kitten in question guiltily looked at his paws. Dawnkit muffled her giggles behind her paw, while Maplekit just snorted. Their mother didn't seem to find it as amusing.
"Say you're sorry," she said sternly. "Or no breakfast for you."
Blackkit sighed heavily. He turned to face his sister, refusing to meet her eyes. His ears drooped in shame. Dawnkit, who was having a field day, grinned widely. "Sorry, Dawnkit…"
"Thank you for your apology, Blackkit," she said condescendly, reciting her mother's instructions on manners. She teasingly bopped him on the head. He swatted at her paw, twisting his face into a disgruntled expression.
Maplekit rolled her eyes. Much like Sorrelfoot, her tortoiseshell pelt was covered in mostly ginger patches. She was the larger of the two, and infinitely more mature. "So, are we going to play, or…?"
"You can play after you eat," Mottleflower said. She began to walk past them to the freshkill pile, her tail swishing as an indicator to follow.
Obediently, the three rushed after her, though Maplekit in a less enthusiastic manner. Disappointment was etched on her features. Dawnkit couldn't sympathize with her. She'd take eating over breathing, if she was able.
They stood in front of the freshkill pile. An infinite supply of little animals were piled atop each other, each looking absolutely delicious to Dawnkit's eyes. Blackkit looked just as eager to dig in.
Mottleflower grabbed a mouse off the top and set it between her paws. The three kits were unable to keep their eyes off of the delectable piece of kill.
"What's this animal called?" the queen questioned in her "mother" voice, gesturing to the furry brown morsel.
Dawnkit hesitated. She'd had it a few times before, when she was being weaned, but for the life of her, she could never remember the name. She glanced to her brother and sister, trying to see if they knew. Maplekit also seemed to be struggling, her brows knit in concentration. Blackkit, however, was squirming, waving his paw in the air.
Mottleflower chuckled at her son's eagerness, and nodded. "It's a mouse!" he announced. His sisters looked to their mother expectantly. Dawnkit was secretly hoping he was wrong.
"Very good!" she purred, bumping her nose lightly against his. She pushed the mouse in his direction, and he immediately began to dig in. His little black tail was straight up in the air in triumph.
Before the two other kits could protest at the unfairness, Mottleflower grabbed a couple more from the pile. She set them down again. "Now, how many mice do I have?"
It was a battle of wits. Dawnkit raked her mind, desperately trying to remember her numbers. One represented a single cat, she knew that much. But what in StarClan's name were the others? Come on, Dawnkit, think—
"Oh! You have two mouses!"
Dawnkit turned to Maplekit, bewildered. How could she remember that? She looked to their mother, whose face of pride told it all—she was correct. Disappointment settled in her belly. She was never going to eat at this rate.
"Mice, darling," Mottleflower corrected gently. "But very good!" She pushed one of the mice in Maplekit's direction, Dawnkit watching longingly as she dug into it.
"How many mice do I have now, Dawnkit?" The question brought her back to the remaining mouse. This was easy. Irritatingly easy. Even a newborn would know this.
"One…" she sighed. Mottleflower seemed to detect her disappointment, and smiled gently.
"You'll get the hang of it, love," her mother comforted, licking her between the ears. She passed her the mouse. "I promise."
. . . . . . .
After their meal, their much-needed game finally commenced.
"Raah! I am Blackstar of ThunderClan! Fear me!" Blackkit cried in the deepest, most intimidating voice he could muster.
He was struggling to stand on his hind legs to appear bigger, flailing his paws in the air. Each time he fell back onto all fours, he quickly tried to get back up to recover his frightening appearance. His sisters weren't the least bit impressed, but games were games, and playing a game means playing your respective part.
"And I'm Dawnstar of LionClan, here to take down your puny Clan!" Dawnkit tried to roar, but came out as nothing more than a loud mewl. Blackkit choked, and had to clamp his mouth shut to keep himself from laughing. The pale ginger kit promptly kicked soil at his paws in retort.
"And I am Maplewhisker, the bestest huntress of the forest!" Maplekit announced, puffing out her chest. "I will starve you both before you can ever lay a claw on my pelt!"
Dawnkit scoffed, whirling to face her sister. "I can squash trees underneath my paws! You, puny huntress, will be eaten whole!" She stomped her paws in the dirt to enunciate the statement.
"Yeah! And my scary claws can catch your long fur!" Her brother added, kneading his paws at the ground.
Maplekit sassily turned up her nose, as if they were nothing more than insects. "Hah! You two have the brains of mice! You could never catch me."
"Oh, yeah?" Blackkit prowled forward, rocking his shoulders. A devious look was on his face.
Dawnkit stepped back, knowing exactly what he was going to do. Maplekit seemed to know, as well, for she faced him fully, hackles raised. This was typical of them. Dawnkit, on the other paw, had never been really into physical play-fighting. It was too messy, and often ended in someone crying. That "someone" being mostly Blackkit.
Just before the black tomkit could pounce, a yowl split the air.
All three kits jolted at once and spun around. Panic shot through the little pale ginger kit as she snapped her attention to the source.
Highrock.
Perched on its ledge was a massive gray tom, eyes the color of leaves casted in sunlight. White covered his gigantic paws, before crawling up to his chest and muzzle. It took Dawnkit a moment before she could recall his name: Nettlestar. ThunderClan's proud and admired leader.
"Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather here beneath the Highrock for a Clan meeting!"
His voice was booming, and reverberated throughout the camp like a roll of thunder. On cue, cats began to flow in the direction of the Highrock.
Dawnkit turned back around to see that Blackkit and Maplekit had gone. She frantically searched her surroundings with her eyes, before realizing where they were located. They were huddled up close to Sorrelfoot and Mottleflower by the nursery. Obediently, she dashed toward them.
She skittered to a stop in front of Sorrelfoot, who licked her ear in greeting. She purred in response and curled up to her chest, keeping her eyes on the gathering cats. She opened her mouth to ask what was happening, when—
"Brownpaw, Dustpaw, step forward," Nettlestar commanded, eyes focused on the center of the huddled cats. It frustrated Dawnkit that she couldn't what was happening, and she squirmed impatiently. Sorrelfoot rested her chin on her head to cease her.
Then, the crowd parted, giving the family a full view of the apprentices as they strode forward. A tall brown tabby molly was standing alongside a shorter, paler brown tabby tom. Despite their relaxed bodies, she could see excitement flashing in their amber hues. On the edges of the gathered cats, nearby, were two older cats. Pride was written on their features. Those must be their mentors, Dawnkit realized.
"I, Nettlestar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices," Nettlestar began. The gathered cats swayed gently in beat to the ancient, ceremonious words. "They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as a warrior in their turn."
He flicked his attention to Brownpaw. "Brownpaw, do you promise to uphold the Warrior Code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?"
Brownpaw's solemn expression split into a confident smirk. She puffed out her chest, and said without waver, "I do."
"And you, Dustpaw?"
"Of course," Brownpaw's brother was far more formal, and simply nodded his head as he made his promise.
"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior names." A beat. Dawnkit leaned forward, anticipation clawing at her very soul. "Brownpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Brownstorm. StarClan honors your skills as a member of this Clan, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."
The newly named Brownstorm dipped her head, body shaking. She whirled to face the crowd, a jubilant look on her face. All at once, they began to chant her name. The mass of voices filled Dawnkit's chest with an unfamiliar, almost powerful feeling, and it was over far quicker than she would have liked.
As the voices died out, Brownstorm exited the center to join her Clanmates. One of the cats, who she assumed was her mentor, head-bumped her affectionately.
Nettlestar continued the ceremony smoothly. "As for you, Dustpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Dustfang. StarClan honors your skills as both a warrior in battle and as a hunter of this forest, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."
Dustfang broke into a smile, and he dipped his head. The gathered cats chanted his name as he remained there, as if taking it all in. Then, he rejoined his sister, and they both laughed and nuzzled each other in congratulations.
The ThunderClan leader nodded, leaping off of Highrock. He beckoned them forward once more, much to the siblings' embarrassment, and set his chin on their heads in turn. He stepped back, warmth in his eyes. "You two will sit vigil tonight. No food, no speaking. Understood?"
They nodded simultaneously, and Nettlestar flicked his tail. "This meeting is dismissed." With that, the cats departed.
The three kits whirled to face their mothers, eyes wide with astonishment.
"They messed up the order of that ceremony," Sorrelfoot observed, frowning. Mottleflower chuckled beside her.
"Those two were so excited, I honestly don't blame them. A warrior's ceremony is always the most amazing, and important, milestone of one's life," the ginger molly responded, eyes twinkling with amusement.
"That was amazing!" Dawnkit squeaked, hopping up and down. Blackkit was equally as excited, and Maplekit only wriggled slightly to express her delight.
The queens gazed down at their kits. Sorrelfoot snorted dryly, though there was a teasing lilt in her voice, "I hope to see you three up there someday. No doddling."
"Oh, hush," Mottleflower giggled, nuzzling her. "Don't rush it. Two moons will become six in the blink of an eye."
"But I want to be a warrior now!" the pale ginger kitten huffed impatiently.
"Believe me, love, you will be. But part of being a warrior is being patient," Mottleflower assured. She got up slowly, and Sorrelflower reluctantly did the same. "Now, come along. It's time for your nap."
All of the kittens groaned at once.
The queens rolled their eyes. Sorrelflower dipped down to grab Dawnkit by the scruff, and in turn Mottleflower plucked up Blackkit. Maplekit, though her face was scrunched up in frustration, didn't have the heart to argue as she was nudged and herded back inside the nursery.
