There was something she needed to do. Generally, Wrenwhisker wasn't a huge fan of obligations: being part of a Clan had a great deal of them, as she had come to learn, but it was a fair price to pay for the benefits such as security, community, relative peace and stability. It was boring, fluffy stuff...but she'd be lying if she said she hadn't chosen it, and been glad to do so. Living on one's own was hard, and the grief that she carried like a stone in her gut made it all the harder. So she put up with the hunting and the tunneling and the listening to others' orders, and even found ways to enjoy herself most of the time. But still, it wasn't as if she relished having things to do - so any extra tasks, which she opted to take on had to matter a great deal. This was one of them, and it wasn't as if it was especially arduous.
It was just...that kit, the one who had come with the big stranger who called herself Sanctity, the one who had seemed so scared, the one who did not even have a name. Wrenwhisker had never seen a creature seem so desperate to not exist, to not take up space or make any sort of impact - it unnerved her greatly. She wasn't the most nurturing cat around, sure - no kit called her mother; no one sought comfort in her disheveled coat and raspy voice - but she had a heart. She cared. Often, more deeply than she let on, and often more deeply than she would've preferred. And, almost immediately upon meeting them, Wrenwhisker had begun to care about Nameless. She had been there when the pair was discovered by a patrol; she had been there when they entered camp for the first time, and in the intervening few days she had spent more time in and around the camp than usual. Keeping an eye on the two of them, but most particularly on the kitten with no name.
Wrenwhisker let a few days pass, acutely aware that coming here and being surrounded at all times by a horde of strangers was more than a little overwhelming. She'd been there; it was hard, even if you weren't a child, and a scared one at that. Adding to whatever miserable burden they bore was the last thing she wanted to do. But each day felt painfully long, and she felt her mind wandering again and again to Nameless. Finally, she could stand it no longer; was there any harm in checking in on the little one? Surely not, right? She wasn't a caregiver, but...she was part of WindClan. She was allowed to care about her Clanmates. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Steeling herself, though she couldn't articulate what for, the tortoiseshell-tabby snatched a rabbit from the ever-dwindling pile and slunk towards the nursery-burrow, her blue eyes flicking to and fro, searching for the kitten.
"Psst. Hey, you." Wrenwhisker would give a rough meow as soon as she spotted Nameless, ignoring the curious glances from any other nearby nursery resident. "Got some food here. I was thinkin' we could, you know. Sit and. Talk and eat. If you wanted."
@NAMELESS
It was just...that kit, the one who had come with the big stranger who called herself Sanctity, the one who had seemed so scared, the one who did not even have a name. Wrenwhisker had never seen a creature seem so desperate to not exist, to not take up space or make any sort of impact - it unnerved her greatly. She wasn't the most nurturing cat around, sure - no kit called her mother; no one sought comfort in her disheveled coat and raspy voice - but she had a heart. She cared. Often, more deeply than she let on, and often more deeply than she would've preferred. And, almost immediately upon meeting them, Wrenwhisker had begun to care about Nameless. She had been there when the pair was discovered by a patrol; she had been there when they entered camp for the first time, and in the intervening few days she had spent more time in and around the camp than usual. Keeping an eye on the two of them, but most particularly on the kitten with no name.
Wrenwhisker let a few days pass, acutely aware that coming here and being surrounded at all times by a horde of strangers was more than a little overwhelming. She'd been there; it was hard, even if you weren't a child, and a scared one at that. Adding to whatever miserable burden they bore was the last thing she wanted to do. But each day felt painfully long, and she felt her mind wandering again and again to Nameless. Finally, she could stand it no longer; was there any harm in checking in on the little one? Surely not, right? She wasn't a caregiver, but...she was part of WindClan. She was allowed to care about her Clanmates. That was the whole point, wasn't it? Steeling herself, though she couldn't articulate what for, the tortoiseshell-tabby snatched a rabbit from the ever-dwindling pile and slunk towards the nursery-burrow, her blue eyes flicking to and fro, searching for the kitten.
"Psst. Hey, you." Wrenwhisker would give a rough meow as soon as she spotted Nameless, ignoring the curious glances from any other nearby nursery resident. "Got some food here. I was thinkin' we could, you know. Sit and. Talk and eat. If you wanted."
@NAMELESS