Memory is fallible. The child does not remember being born amidst a blood stained battle - she cannot claim to know those who've died or who truly has claimed the lives of others. She is still so young and so new to the world... one of ShadowClan's firsts, born and bred to be in the shade. Her paws hardly stand beneath her, her legs too spindly and thin to reliably hold her up. She watches as her siblings - Mistletoekit and Hemlock-kit, grow faster, fiercer, more eager with every day. All while she holds to her mother's side, pale eyes effervescent despite the darkness that hangs over her.
"Eh..." she chirps after a long, quiet moment beside Cherryblaze. She leans her weight against the other, nothing more than a feather in the wind. Her ears crane up towards her parent, her plum-dark fur melding with the depths of the nursery. "When... When are you..." she's slow worded, calculated like her other parent. Her syllables are well enunciated and she takes the time to ensure that none are out of place. "Leaving? Tomorrow?" Will Cherryblaze have time away from them, now that they're able to walk and talk (for the most part)? Cicadabuzz takes most of their time in their den with infrequent visits to the kits (she's heard that they don't claim them either, whatever that means.) Deathberrykit scrutinizes her mother, unsure of when the duties of warriorhood will summon the molly away.