soul as warm as the sun [open]

Over the delicate slope of the nursery den, a shallow scoop beneath the vast open fields of Windclan territory, a tiny black head with a dash of white peered into the camp. Her gaze flickered back and forth, accompanied by the rhythmic fluttering of a dark-furred tail. There was an unabashed, pure curiosity written across her maw, indicative of the youthfulness the kit possessed. After several heartbeats a desire to abandon the position became overwhelming. Before Dashkit leaped away, she glanced back over her shoulder to meow a soft farewell to her mother. It was hardly a question but the queen's gentle and loving spirit matched her own, the adventure would be followed with watchful eyes. The bicolored kit pushed herself up and over the edge which was an awkward feat given the undersized frame and  substantial paw size. It was a strange combination and gave her wobbly kit-like gait an even more unique appearance.

A loose strand of grass drifted across the clearing, dancing and journeying under direction of a light summer breeze. Her little claws set out to catch it, missing ever so slightly with each misstep. But under the midday sun that warmed her coat, Dashkit only found herself subconsciously contented in her endeavors. Eventually this lead her directly in the path of a clanmate. As the shadow fell upon her, she glanced up with wide eyes and let out a squeak, "Oh! I'm sorry. I didn't see you. I'm playing. Do you want to play too?" As she first spoke, her ears had lowered in embarrassment but quickly pricked once again at the prospect of finding a playmate in the older cat.

The unpleasantly soggy air was weighted down with a hot humidity, something so distinctly foreign yet unfortunately familiar all the same- the drastic exposure to the unyielding elements serving to only further heat up the disgusting weather. Even within the dwindling shade offered by the overgrown swathes of gorse and thickly-woven boughts of willowy heather did little to offer a cool respite, especially after spending the duration of the day thus far chasing after surprisingly resilient moor-dwelling creatures. There was a twinge resonating in the overly tense muscles of Shrikecall's nape, a nagging prickle of pain that radiated outwards from a narrow point, which resulted in his teeth clenching down further against the limp flesh of the cooling rabbit. The unkempt tom was single-minded in his pursuit to simply deposit the freshly-caught rabbit within the sheltered seclusion of the shaded prey pile, hardly paying attention to what could possibly stray into his path until it was far too late. Shrikecall's angular features narrowed further into a stilted expression of displeasure at the interaction with Dashkit, evidence of a lingering frown building upon the tom's sharp lines and hard eyes. His poor mannerisms with kits, the singular exception being his own, was hardly a secret at this point.

"Move." Shrikecall's hard command was partially muffled by the unnaturally limp weight of the dead creature caught between his teeth, "Or I will drop this rabbit on you."

Dashkit peered up, twisting her head so she could get a better look at the tom's expression behind the large rabbit. Couple with the gruff voice were sharp eyes. Innocence was written across her own features. The prospect of the rabbit was intriguing. Had he caught this thing all by himself? Little black and white head tilted with curiosity and for a moment her maw was in a neutral state as she thought. Finally, she let out a soft meow, "I love rabbit! We could eat it together. You caught this all by yourself didn't you?" The warrior was decidedly impressive. It didn't matter if he seemed put off by her presence, after all, Shrikecall was likely just tired from his hunt. All he needed was some rest and a good meal. Than they could play.

A dark, mottled head peeked out of the nursery, vibrant green eyes watching Dashkit's every move. Their mother was a bit more reluctant to let Elmkit out of her immediate vicinity due to his...affliction. Dashkit was happy and healthy, very much so compared to her brother. But today, the queen was being more lenient, allowing Elmkit to limp heavily over the edge leading into the nursery. The tortoiseshell tom scrabbled his way up into the rest of camp, eyes darting around hesitantly before he hobbled over to his sister and the older warrior. It took him a fair bit of time to make his three legs work properly; he was still getting the hang of three-legged locomotion. Soon, he was able to make his way over to Dashkit and Shrikecall, staring open-mouthed at the limp rabbit. Suddenly realizing he looked silly, he shuffled back as best he could, shutting his mouth with a snap of little teeth.

The hard jut of Shrikecall's joint flexed and tightened, the pronounced curve of his incisors bearing down with a sour strength against the rapidly cooling flesh of the rabbit. The blood-stiffened fur was unyielding against the strain of his snarl-sweetened sigh, equal parts irritation and dismay further weighing down against the already tense muscles of his shoulders. Without even deigning Dashkit or the curious eyes of Elmkit a singular response, huffing and puffing as he craned his neck back even further; high-stepping over the young molly and likely sending her sprawling with the heavy weight of his lashing tail. "You don't need to eat a rabbit," Shrikecall snapped out, scathing tone muffled by the heavy weight of the limp creature, "You've done nothing but lay around all day."