too early to play [open]

Shellkit was up long before dawn, causing a scene and tearing through the nursery like a bat. He tumbled over nursing queens and prodded sleeping kits, mewing pitifully when they would not entertain him. An only kit, he was, and without littermates of the same age, he thought he might burst from boredom. He kept at it until the sun rose overhead, and when the first warriors began to emerge for patrols, it seemed that the other inhabitants of the nursery had reached their breaking point. He was promptly shoved out of the den, tumbling a few paces before coming to a halt. Now that he was weaned, there was no real reason to tolerate his constant need for attention and play. If he was hungry, he could fetch it himself. Where was mother when he needed defending?

The bleakness of a cloudy Newleaf morning was a bad omen for Shellkit. If he was to find someone to play with, he couldn't sell himself short. The work would be double to get the attention he wanted. So, with pluming tail high and spirits low, he trotted to the nearest clanmate he could find, who was much bigger than himself. "Excuse me!" he bleated, prodding the cat's leg. "I'm playing tribe. My name is White Shell in Goose's Beak. I'm a prey-hunter and I'm the best. You gotta pick a name now."

The dreary dusting of clouds effectively deprived the forest of any additional warmth, the downy layer of turbulent grey stifling the waning sunlight of the day. Tendrils of a choppy breeze crept below the wild mane of Nettlesplash's unkempt coat, tugging and ruffling his coat in a wild array of unpleasant directions. The heavy presence of drowsiness resonating throughout the twisting expanse of his circulatory system was unfortunately disrupted by the sharp prodding of a bony little paw- and a lackadaisical demand that accompanied the unwelcome probing. Singular eye lazily slipping open to cast a bleary gaze of molten amber in the younger tom's direction, Nettlesplash's scar-flecked lips peeled back into the undercurrents of a building yawn.

"Tribe?" He inquired after a heartbeat, low voice further roughened by exhaustion, "I thought most kits liked to play war against the Dark Forest these days." Something pricked within the hollow of Nettlesplash's chest at the recollection flickering within the confines of his eye-sockets, his attention remaining forcibly trained upon the young tom expectantly eyeing him.

"Tribe is more fun, and I can play it by myself! I don't have littermates. That's why I'm so big. I got all Violetbriar's milk," Shellkit said, his voice crackling with a certain boyish quality. He peered up as his paws propelled him in a broad circle around the warrior, noting his raggedy, reddish fur, and bleary eyes. The stranger, who seemed ancient by Shellkit's standard of kit-bearing queens and apprentice-aged siblings, would have seemed sorely disinterested to a more alert cat. Shellkit was not alert. Shellkit was impatient. He took another lap around the warrior, this one faster, tail streaking out behind him as his resilient little body tripped and tumbled in the sandy soil, the substance sticking to his paws and his flanks. "Are you older than Wolfstorm, or younger? What about Lichenstar? Who's the oldest RiverClan cat ever? Did you ever beat up a ThunderClan warrior? Do they eat fish, or are they too stupid?" he chattered in half-breaths, his game largely abandoned. White Shell in Goose's Beak was no more, and only a toddling kitten remained, overwhelmed with the endless possibilities that came from getting to know a cat that he did not share a den or blood with.

Inquisitiveness began to fade with his energy, and he found himself weary from his mad dash. Shellkit slowed to a stop, and his dropped to Nettlesplash's tail. It was temptingly large and fluffy, the perfect color for prey. He backpedaled, still gasping and giggling from his run, and suddenly scrabbled against the ground, running straight for the prized appendage. "IT'S AN EAGLE ATTACK!" Shellkit yipped, diving into a faceful of fur and grappling his tail with pin-sized claws. "Smack! Scratch! Grrrrrrr! I'll kill the beast! I'll save you!"

Delicate skin prickling uncomfortably under the harsh tug of the ceaselessly choppy breeze, Nettlesplash dropped a broad shoulder into the sand-softened earth of the camp, flopping down onto his side with all of the grace of a completely blind badger attempting to navigate a swath of thorns. Watching the various expressions drift across the youth-soft expanse of Shellkit's face was quite the spectacle - considering the relentless and entirely abrupt transition between each and every emotion that rippled out from the young tom's bright eyes - and his drowsy expression of casual disinterest eventually sharpened into an infuriating little crooked smile as his whiskers twitched in silent laughter.

Rolling his shoulders in a secondary attempt to chase away the stubborn tendrils of sleepiness, the burly tom's joints gave a satisfying crack beneath the untamed mess of his coat as he continued to observe the young kit's wild and sometimes nonsensical line of questioning. Although Shellkit seemed to hold his complete attention, or as close to such a feat as one could get, even Nettlesplash seemed to have trouble keeping track of the seemingly endlessly inquiries currently being hurled in his direction with little care for the actual answers.

Swallowing down the unpleasant pinpricks of pressure that arose from Shellkit's admittedly aggressive ministrations involving his tail, the sprawled out tom instead allowed his tail to twitch and thrash within the pale-furred kit's grasp- even as the surprisingly sharp weight of his little claw's managed to sift beneath the wild expanse of Nettlesplash's thick fur. "Lichenstar and I are both older than Wolfstorm, but we're the oldest cats left in RiverClan." He mewed, singular eye drifting shut as he continued to allow the young tom the opportunity to maul his tail, "ThunderClan cats couldn't catch a fish even if it fell out of the sky right in front of them. I've nearly fought Lightningstar, and I would do it again if Lichenstar would allow me."

Was it rude to barge in on others while they were in conversation? Well... yes. But Sorrelkit hadn’t learned that yet. In the nursery, she didn’t think much of Shellkit as he barged out, only letting out an annoyed sigh as he tumbled past. She returned her head to rest on top of her dainty paws and stared out at the camp. Within a few minutes, she’d decided sleep was hopeless, and started to follow her denmate, making sure to be careful. Her kit-blue eyes glanced out at the invisible border between the den and the camp. It seemed easier to cross than it had been before. Ear flicking, Sorrelkit dismissed the thought, and strode past, gaze intent on the warrior and kit talking. She reached them as Nettlesplash was speaking about ThunderClan and fish. Although she didn’t know the context, she agreed, making her presence known by a squeaky voice. “What do you mean, nearly fought Lightningstar?” Her furry ears pricked as he continued and she processed the information. “Oh! Did Lichenstar not let you do it the first time, either? Why? You’d kick their stupid mouse-butts, I’m sure.”

Shellkit's small, yellowish eyes opened wider, as if to accommodate his growing positive regard for Nettlesplash. If one of the most senior warriors in the clan said it, then it must be a very wise thing indeed. He had heard about Sunningrocks, a beautiful set of basking stones across the river, which ThunderClan tried to annex on a routine basis. He heard they attacked mostly by ambush, striking like snakes out of bushes. He imagined beastly cats, with muddy, crusted fur and devilish glowing eyes. He imagined Nettlesplash swooping in on their strongest, Lightningstar, pulling him underwater as he thrashed and the river turned murky with the leaves and sticks caught in the ThunderClan cat's wiry coat. RiverClan cats had beautiful fur, Shellkit decided as he continued to nibble on Nettlesplash's silky tail, which was thick with the glossy oils that came with a diet of fish. "I bet they're scared of you!" he said, plucking at his "eagle."

Another voice cut through, a small, feminine voice, and Shellkit let go of Nettlesplash's tail. Sorrelkit was the source of the noise, his small denmate with stormy grey fur. Without much thought, Shellkit giggled and crouched down into what he assumed a hunting stance might look like and lunged at the she-kit. He grabbed her at the forelegs and wrestled her down with him.

"I got you, Sorrelkit!" he announced. "When we're apprentices, promise you'll go to Sunningrocks with me! Pleeeeease! If ThunderClan shows up, we can fight them off together!"

There was something inherently unpleasant about the sensation of the delicate fur and flesh of Nettlesplash's tail being toyed with as though it was something akin to the uneaten remains of a frog, especially whenever considering that the little tormentor holding the precious appendage hostage had very sharp teeth and claws. There was likely a fine line between too much movement and not enough movement - each of which would inevitably result in a nasty bite - so he tried to keep the movement at the bare minimum of attracting interest on behalf of Shellkit. Although his dark gaze remained sealed under the drowsy weight of his sticky lids, the red-furred tom acknowledged Sorrelkit's newfound presence and resounding inquiry with a twitch of his tufted ears.

"Just means she would've gotten upset if I unintentionally started a clash between RiverClan and ThunderClan, which is always a possibility considering how sore of losers they tend to be." Nettlesplash grunted, a faint tendril of relief slipping through his knotty circulatory system as his tail was finally let free. Limbs stiffening under the pretense of stretching, the ruddy tom gradually sprawled out across the soft bed of sand, paying little mind to the sound of scuffling as he enjoyed the weak warmth of the day. "Remind me after your ceremonies," Nettlesplash eventually yawned, scarred lips aching softly under the strain of the prolonged stretch, "and we can sync it up with ThunderClan's patrol schedule. They tend to get more ruffled when RiverClan cats tease them while having the best basking spots."