Camp sleepwalking [ prairie ]

[lotuskit lotuskit]

Lotuskit slips from the medicine den, perhaps for the last time. Dimmingsun and Meadowpaw have each done all they could with regards to her - her injuries have all healed, and relatively well at that (though her wrist has an obvious twist to it now,) but her recollection of that night, and the many nights after, remains fuzzy. They continue to be worried, too, as the molly seems to forget things often. An injury elsewhere, it seems - untreatable by their medicines. They let her go with smiles and encouragement, and the tortoiseshell molly misses the uncertainty that slips between them.

What she doesn't miss is the petals lying near the entranceway. Still in tact to a stem, she slips it close to her with her tail, and then heaves it into her teeth upon leaving. It's beautiful, and it's scent is enticing - she wonders if she can commit it to memory, and find more on her own, once she's made an apprentice...! Oh, her siblings would be so jealous then, she thinks. She would have all the pretty flowers, and they would have none!

Lotuskit arrives in the nursery with the short-stemmed bloom, slinking along the wall for a few steps before erring too close to a shadow. Or... well, not quite a shadow, but a kit hiding in one. She nearly drops her prize in her quick retreat, stumbling over her own paws to ensure it doesn't hit the ground too roughly. The young molly blinks, looks back up to the opposite kit, and then takes a moment too long to recall just who this is. They are... Branchkit's sibling? No - no, that doesn't make sense. She's Branchkit's sibling... or something close enough to it. They're... maybe Yewkit's kin...? Or, maybe not kin at all. A stranger entirely.

A stranger... who would benefit from her theft, evidently.

"Do you like flowers?" She asks, as if she hadn't almost stepped on their tail and paws. She turns the flower over, revealing its near perfection (the pinpricks from her teeth in the stem must bring the value down, in a way.) "It's yours, if y'want. I can find more another day," be it here, or out in the moors. She's certain she can find the flowers again.

 

[NAMELESS]

x

As the novelty of being the clan's newest addition has faded, many of the other kits have turned their attention away from the child. The others quickly learned that they are not interested in games, and altogether too quiet to make good company. It has become only the same few faces that seek them out, those who do not mind a silent shadow to tail them.

It is strange, then, when an unfamiliar kit comes creeping through the shadows where the child has made themself home. They do not know her name, merely that she is a stranger; there are so many names to learn here, and few seem worth the effort.

The child keeps to the dimmer parts of camp, the quieter ones. It is as close to familiarity as they can find, in this place with no proper walls to hold them in. A stroke of luck, perhaps, that they have chosen a shaded spot so close to the hollow of the medicine den. They do not make any moves to alert the other kit of their presence. When she notices them, the prize in her mouth falling to the ground, they draw back to a safe enough distance to avoid her hasty paws.

Then, they lean in to peer a little closer. She comes not alone, but carrying a soft-petaled blossom - and that is enough to peak their interest. In the church, it would have been a rare treasure. Certainly not so pristine. It takes a moment for her words to register. They nod hastily, shooting her a wide-eyed look of surprise. Theirs? She says it so breezily, as if the action means nothing to her. She handles it with a delicacy her words do not suggest, at least.

They raise a paw, hovering it over the little flower. It captures their attention almost fully, though their ears remain pricked to listen. "

Where?

" They ask. The prairie seems so dull and frost-eaten, and this flower is clearly dried... They can squirrel the little treasure away somewhere safe, but the prospect of there being more hidden somewhere only this kit knows about is more than exciting.

OOC //

ONLY THE YOUNG ONES DIE GOOD

???

WINDCLAN KIT
they / them, nonbinary
5 moons old, ages on the first day of the month
semiverbal, primarily communicates nonverbally
rescued(...?) from a rogue cult by sanctity

"

SPEECH

" & ACTIONS & INTERACTION

penned by saturnid.