The Mercy of the Wind

Fern's paws dragged the ground with each step as she followed behind her brother. It had been days since she'd eaten last, and even longer for Aspen, evidenced by thin frames and fragile coats. The female groaned as her empty stomach protested loudly, but she continued walking. They had to keep moving, to get as far away as possible. Fern lifted her head, trying to smell amy kind of food, but all she could smell were the endless fields of grass. Unable to go any further, Fern finally plopped down in the tall grass, panting breathlessly. "I can't... I can't go any farther," she gasped.

Whitekit was bored around camp so he decided to go and explore. The small ragdoll kit looked around making sure no one saw him before quickly running towards the entrance and out. He didnt want to go far but also wanted to explore so as he headed deeper into the territory he looked around making sure nothing was around.

It took him a while but soon he realized there was another scent that wasnt windclan. He stiffened in fear before realizing it wasnt a predator. he silently followed the scent and peeked from a bush, noticing two grey cats. One was laying on the ground while what looked like the male was guarding. He could tell they werent going to harm him so whitekit came out of hiding and padded up to the two cats curiously.

Aspen gazed down at his sister sympathetically. They had been going non stop and he was hungry. "Alright, but just for a while," he said as he laid down beside her. He didn't dare let himself fall asleep though. The pair rested for a few moments quietly, almost believing that their lives were this peaceful. Suddenly, Fern's head shot up, her eyes wide with fear. "What was that? Aspen... i heard something." "We know you're there! Come out or leave us in peace!" Aspen shouted as his yellow eyes searched the endless grassy sea.

Whitekit was sad that he wasnt good at being quiet but came out anyway. He smiled at the two cats before walking towards them. "Hello, Im no threat." he said while giggling picturing himself as a threat to anything but a leaf or insect. He noticed the she-cat looking like she would run while the tom looked like he would kill the kit without a second glance.

At the sight of the kit, both cats visibly relaxed. "It's just a kit," Aspen sighed, sitting down again. Fern gave a faint smile at the adorable little kit. "What are you doing out here, little one? Where's your family?" Fern asked as she stepped from behind her brother. 

Whitekit smiled at the two before sitting down. "I wanted to explore and then I saw you guys, for my parents they are at camp sleeping." He mewed thinking about how much trouble he would be if his parents woke to him being gone.

Whitekit smiled at the two wondering if he could trust them with his name, eh he was a kit, he didn't care. "My name is Whitekit of windclan, and you are?" He smiled at the older cats knowing they weren't from around the area.

whitekit didnt understand the weird words they were saying but loved describing his clan. "Windclan is a big group of cats that survive together in the open area, such as here. Our leader makes sure we are safe while warriors hunt for food, queens take care of the kits and apprentices take care of the elders. Im only a kit but when i become an apprentice i will be the best warrior in the clans!" He mewed proudly.

Warriors? That didn't sound so great. Fern began feeling uneasy the more Whitekit spoke. Aspen, however, was thinking. Perhaps these cats could protect them. "Whitekit, we haven't eaten in a couple days. Do you think your clan might let us stay for a little while to rest and eat. We promise not to be any trouble," he said, then gave his sister a gentle nudge. "Don't worry. No matter happens, I won't leave you," he promised.

Whitekit knew it wasn't his place to talk but he really did hope the leader would let them join. He nodded happily and motioned for them to follow.

She was in the middle of grooming her fur, tongue in the middle of passing through the fur on her chest when she noticed a small white tail snake out of camp. For the briefest of moments the deputy believed it to be a rabbits tail - so soft, so fluffy, so small, - before her common sense kicked back in, and the molly knew there was absolutely no way that could be a rabbit. No, it was a StarClan forsaken kit, sneaking out against the entire clans wishes, putting its safety and wellbeing at risk. Heronfeather sighed deeply, the time Thornkit had pranced over into RiverClan territory, worrying the entire clan and causing issues between the two clans playing fresh in her head. They had to avoid a similar instance happening.

She got to her paws and stretched deeply, before following Whitekit quietly, in part curious as to where the kit would venture to. Her entire body stiffened as another scent hit her, the faint smell of the Twolegplace combined with the familiar scent of other cats. Two of them, no less. Immediately she picked up pace, especially watching Whitekit leave his hiding place to greet them. No! the molly thought helplessly, but stopped in her tracks as she watched them converse. And then turn to follow him, presumably back to camp. Taking a deep breath, she forced her hackles not to raise and her fur to lay flat as she looked over the loner duo. Their physical features were incredibly similar and she pinned them for siblings, wondering where they had come from, before her eyes raked over the very clear softness they both displayed, realising the faint scent of the Twolegplace was these two. These kittypets.

"Not so fast," Heronfeather said, standing as tall as she could despite her short stature. "Whitekit, get back here now," Her tone invited no discussion, and her tail-tip flicked in annoyance at his invitation to the two kittypets. Her mind weighed against itself; they looked half-starved, exhausted and out of their depth, but was it an act? How could she bring two complete strangers into the heart of her clan and risk more loners expecting help in future, or the safety of her clanmates? Brindlestar would know what to do with them, she mused, and cleared her throat in preparation of speaking. "I am Heronfeather, deputy of WindClan. This kit had no right to offer you assistance, however I can't in good nature turn you down. I will take you to see our leader who will decide what happens with you two. I can't promise anything, but I promise if this is an act I will put you down myself," she said quietly, eyes narrowed in suspicion. It was genuinely an empty threat - the molly was not comfortable with violence, but these two didn't have to know that. She lead them back to camp, a nervous tingle in her pawpads.

Upon reaching the entrance of camp, she ushered Whitekit back inside, before turning back to the ragged pair. "It's not in my best interests to allow you inside, so wait here. I will be back with our leader who will make the decision," Heronfeather immediately disappeared into camp, making her way to Brindlestar's den. "Whitekit decided to make some friends, they look to be former kittypets and are half-starved. They're outside camp, I told them you'd decide what happens with them," she was a little sheepish; it wasn't her smartest decision to do this, but she was here now. "Before we head out, I would just like to say that I think we should give them something to eat and then point them in the direction of the nearest Twoleg. However, I will respect and support whatever you decide," the molly finished, making her way back to the siblings.

Fern smiled as she and Aspen began to follow the kitten. Finally, I'll get some food and maybe even a warm bed, she thought to herself. She stopped as yet another cat appeared in the grass, blocking their path. Fern's confidence immediately shattered and she crouched low as Aspen realized what was happening and jumped forward to protect his sister.

"We're not lying. Look at us. We haven't eaten anything in days and we are no condition to fight anyone. We just want to go somewhere safe," Aspen replied, a hint of defiance in his tired voice. As Heronfeather turned to silently lead then away, he knelt down and nudged Fern to her paws. It broke his heart to feel her trembling against him. She'd never been like this before, but ever since the attack, Fern's mind had known nothing but terror. 


They walked silently behind the female as they passed through the grass. How could she even know where she was going? It was so tall he couldn't see unless he stood on his hind legs. They stopped as Heronfeather suddenly turned and spoke, then disappeared through a narrow tunnel. "Aspen, do you think they'll make us leave like that other cat did? I don't know how much longer I can keep walking," Fern said as she leaned against Aspen. "I don't know, but I'm hoping they'll let us stay. If that tom come back, we won't be able to fight him off again like last time. "

whitekit didnt want to leave his new friends behind but he knew he had to follow the deputy's words. He looked back one more before padding inside of the camp and heading back to the nursery to see his mother. He hoped he would be able to see his new friends again.

WindClan has seemed to acquire a true penchant for losing track of their late warm season brood- two alone in the last lunar cycle. Truly impressive considering how most kits ought to be too fat and untrained to make it terribly far across the moor. However, entirely discordant to the absolute misery of losing track of her youngest kin, thankfully several pairs of eyes had remained more or less aware of Whitekit’s whereabouts.

Of course even such blatant control of the situation did little to quell the nerves of the understandably ruffled and apprehensive Queens, who likely thought that the ordeal had magically spiraled out of control and now Whitekit’s corpse was residing in a watery grave somewhere low in the basin of the Gorge. The faint warble of a familiar young voice interrupted Brindlestar's unpleasant reminiscing, the sudden downpour of adrenaline setting her entire being alight with the icy flames of reluctance, entirely too unsure of what such summoning could mean. The subtle twitch in the delicate muscularture of her facial features was an inevitable display of her dissatisfaction with Heronfeather’s words.

Withdrawing from the softly cooled shade exuded by the Tallrock, the pale molly was brisk in her following of Heronfeather, only acknowledging the younger she-cat’s comment with a puff. It was difficult not to keep the undercurrent of disdain from creeping into the sharp depths of her gaze upon first being greeted with the unusual sight- a pair of half-starved outsiders standing idle against the sharp fringes of the gorse barrier, plainly lacking the natural assurance of a Clan-born cat. Striding forward, angular head lifted and chin titled forward in a blatant display of her legendarily unpredictable and evidently volatile temper. ”Well..?” Brindlestar eventually prompts after a heartbeat of tense silence, sharp features angled upwards in a silent demand for explanation.