username: Canary22
cat's name: Turtlenose
gender: female
age: 33 moons
rank: Warrior
clan:
Dawnclanwhere's the kits?:
(This takes place when Turtlenose was a loner, and was known as Turtle)
Turtle sat in front of a large pine tree, bored. Leaf, Fern and Oak were tiring, like any three-moon-old kits are. She was twitching her tail slightly, and Fern had made it her game to pounce on it. She peered around the tree cheekily before leaping around it dramatically, meowing a battle cry before gently placing a single paw on Turtle’s tail. “That was anticlimactic,” Turtle laughed. Fern looked up at her, confused and a little hurt.
“What does... ‘anticlimactic’ mean?” She asked. Turtle lay down and groomed the kit’s head.
“Anticlimactic is when you build up to something, and everyone thinks that it will be big and exciting, but it’s the opposite of what they expect,” Turtle explained. “Anyway, where are your siblings? Fox wouldn’t be very happy if you lot were to disappear.” At that moment, Oak and Leaf bounded around the tree and piled themselves in top of Turtle, giggling.
“Grr,” Oak squeaked. “I’m a big, scary cat and I’m going to kill you!” When he said that, Fern jumped into her brother, knocking him off their adoptive mother’s back. Fox was their father, but the kits’ real mother had died during birth. When Fox and Turtle met up, they took a liking to each other, and became mates. Turtle helped ease the burden of the kits when Fox had to go hunting, and vice versa when Turtle wanted to hunt. Oak’s brown spotted tabby pelt blended in well with the earthy floor, while Fern’s ginger and white fur stuck out like a sore paw. Leaf’s silver spotted tabby patterning was somewhere in between, sometimes blending in and other times being very obvious. Trying not to unbalance Leaf, who was still perched on her back, Turtle reached over and gently prised the kits apart.
“Behave yourselves,” she said in a mock-stern voice. Oak squeaked and ran into the bushes, Fern and Leaf following him. Turtle sighed and stood up, rolling her eyes.
Honestly, kits are little bundles of terror. She followed them through the bush, hearing little kit-voices and laughter as she did so. She knew that the kits were up to something, she just didn’t know what.
When she reached a break in the bushes, she felt three pairs of little eyes watching her. “Hmm, I wonder where the kits are,” she meowed. “Maybe they’re in here.” She pokes her head through a bush and looked around seeing a small ginger tail flick further into the bush. She took her head out of the leaves, shaking her head to rid it of stray leaves. “So they’re not in there. I wonder where they are?” She examined the rest of the bushes, spying the top of a silver ear and a flash of a brown paw. After checking the last one, she sat in the middle of the clearing. “Well, the kits aren’t here,” she meowed. “They must be somewhere else. I’ll keep looking.” With that, she walked away.
Trees cast the little-worn path in shadow. It was two long hours since she’d last seen the kits. She’d been searching for them since she’d walked away. Looking back on her actions, she realised that they weren’t the smartest things she could’ve done. “Oak? Fern? Leaf? Come out now, it’s not funny anymore!” Turtle shouted. She tried not to sound angry or stressed, as that might stop the kits from coming out, but it wasn’t difficult. They were only kits. Anything could happen to them. Badgers, foxes, birds, the river... The list was endless. Fox appeared behind her, just as worried as she was.
“I still don’t understand how you managed to lose
three whole kits,” Fox commented. “I mean, kits aren’t easy to lose. You should’ve known that they wouldn’t follow you.” Turtle didn’t comment, but kept walking. She felt terrible about losing his kits. He was right; the trio were so loud, it was impossible to lose them. Well, almost impossible, as she had accidentally proved.
“I know,” she sighed. “I don’t know how I let them go, but I’m sure we’ll find them.” She continued walking along the trail. “Leaf, Fern and Oak! Come out!” As she called out to the kits again, she heard a little snigger in response. “Fox? Did you hear that?” She whispered. He nodded in reply. They silently continued. Occasionally they heard a quiet sound, like that of a leaf crunching or a bush rustling, that let them know they were being followed. In this game, they were not the hunters, but the hunted.
The trail continued for many, many more fox-lengths, but it eventually came to a dead end. “So if they’re not here, where are they?” Fox asked.
“Oh, I think we’ll find them soon enough,” Turtle replied. Sure enough, when they turned to leave, they found their way blocked by a small tabby kit. “Oak! You’re alright!” She cried, rushing over to the kit and nuzzling his small head.
“Of course we’re alright, Turtle,” Oak mewed happily. “We were practicing our stalking. Did we do well?”
“Of course you did,” Fox laughed, embracing the small forms of Leaf and Fern. “You three will grow up to be fine hunters, mark my words.” His eyes shone with joy as he looked at the three kits. Turtle walked over to him and wrapped her tail around his as they watched the kits tumble around on the grass.
