this is our fight! | open, abandoned kit at border

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    [fancypost bgcolor=; borderwidth=0px; bordercolor=; width: 375px;][justify][size=8]Birds could be heard singing in the air of the SkyClan territory as the sun made its daily ascent over the horizon, marking it time for the cats of the Clan to begin their duties for the day. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, not until the first patrol would head out and find the form of an orange-and-white tabby kitten laying on the border.


    Two things were obvious about this particular kit: It was much too young to be on its own as it was right now, and it was quite easy to see that it had been abandoned by its parents. Left for dead. Less obviously, but still noticeable, was the dull scent of BloodClan on the kitten's pelt. Would SkyClan take in this kitten to be called Gingerkit in the future? Who knew, really.


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    Well, that was an odd find.


    Otterpaw had strayed from her morning patrol, following an odd scent; and there, by the border, it culminated in the form of a cute little kit. Otterpaw's heart melted; her jaw dropped; stomach twisted. "G-guys! Th-there's a k-kit-kitten here!" the chocolate molly called, before quickly dropping to her belly beside the little tabby, looking down on him with wonder-filled eyes and moving to cuddle up beside him; to keep him warm in the snow until the others came.


    The apprentice was rather motherly, yes; and these feelings swelled as she looked down on the helpless little creature, splotched with ginger and white. With a buzz of excitement, she noted that -- as the one to find this kitten -- she may get to name him; and the apprentice silently decided on Gingerkit. Of course, Otterpaw was far too young to truly adopt the little thing -- but she would make sure to visit him in the nursery, of course. Well, if he ended up belonging to SkyClan -- which he certainly would, seeing as he smelled of BloodClan, and there was no way in Hell that SkyClan would be returning him there.
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    Wasppaw of Skyclan


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    Wasppaw loved three things in this world : Helping, family, and children. There was no bigger pleasure to him than when he contributed to making someone's day, or relived the burden on someone's shoulders. Often, however, his love for pleasing others led to him being quite the bit of a workaholic, and in the cold moons of leaf-bare, it was dangerous to be tired. Still, that didn't stop the maine coon tabby tom from constantly volunteering for patrols, ditermined as he was to help feed his growing family along with the other hard working members of skyclan.
    It was a cold, leaf-bare morning, and yet the sun rose high and bright into the sky. Looking up at the atmosphere through squinting eyes, Wasppaw felt his chest fill with appreciation and gratitude for Starclan's rare blessing as the sun's light warmed his pale tabby back. Prey was still rather scarce, but with the faint sing-song of birds, the young tom was hopeful for a good catch.
    But on this day, he and his patrol stumbled upon a different kind of tiny creature.


    Preking his ears at the sound of his fellow patrol mate's call, Wasppaw frowned in confusiong. A kit? For a terrible second, he feared that Minkkit, his shadowclan friend, had snuck out of her camp again. Those shadowclanners needed to seriously keep better watch of their children! With a big brother's fretful heart, the apprentice lifted his nose from his current action of sniffing trails, and quickly followed the sound of Otterpaw's voice.
    Pushing through some leafless brambles, the tom was shocked to find the young brown molly cuddling next to a soaked ball of red moss. Moss? Red? Shaking his head clear of morning fog, the apprentice realized it was neither moss, nor Minkkit - it was an entirely new child in general. Padding over, careful to keep a polite distance from Otterpaw's bubble, Wasppaw gasped softly, "A kitten? what is it doing here...?" Looking through Otterpaw's paws, Wasppaw took note of it's feeble ginger and white coat, which held the faint smell of Bloodclan. It had been abandoned...
    "The poor child...Otterpaw, you must groom it - who knows how long its been left out here, it could be freezing," Wasppaw felt bad for giving any kind of order to his fellow apprentice, but WAsppaw was antsy with worry as he shifted his weight from each paw. Thinking about Burdockkit and her sickness, he was terrified this child, whom was exposed to more cold than his little sister had been, could be in danger.



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    [fancypost bgcolor= transparent; bordercolor= transparent; height:; width: 430px; font: 12pt times new roman; text-align: justify;]Tatteredpelt had been assigned to a border patrol this morning, so it was no surprise that he was one of the cats to stumble upon the kitten. The kit was small, and what Tatteredpelt noticed first was his scent, not his form. BloodClan. BloodClan was the enemy of the Clans, but truth be told, the massive brown tabby hated ThunderClan more than he did the street cats. Glancing back at the other members of his patrol, he motioned toward where the scent came from, in case none of them had noticed it.


    He was surprised to find that it was a kit he was dealing with. The child looked so small, so alone, and for a long moment the warrior couldn't move. The image before him blurred, no longer a ginger kit but a mess of red and green. The kit had so very clearly been abandoned. It had no mother with it and no father. No one to care for it. It seemed to Tatteredpelt that the kit wasn't the child of a BloodClanner but his own children, and that he was an onlooker, stuck helpless as his kits grew up without him.


    He took a deep, shuddering breath, and the scene became clear again. Dimly, he was aware that his claws were unsheathed and that his gold eyes burned with anger. He had lost a lifetime with Snowbloom and Stonejaw, and some other parents had just let their kit go. His shoulders trembled with rage, rage focused at those cats who had left this kit to die.


    His fury hadn't abated by the time he switched his attention to Wasppaw, and his voice shook with anger. "Wasppaw, run to the nursery and tell the queens that there's a kit coming who needs a mother." Someone to milk him? Tattered could tell if the kit was old enough to eat its own food. "Hurry." He took another deep breath, trying to focus, and turned his attention to Otterpaw. "Carry the kit back to camp."


    He was going to look for the kit's parents, and if he found them, he would kill them. No one ought to just abandon a child like that. No one.


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    "B-b-but g-getting it w-wet will j-j-just g-g-get it c-colder," Otterpaw mumbled, instead shifting to gently, yet swiftly, rub her paws against the little bundle; warming the thing and perhaps drying it a bit as she moved. Otterpaw felt her paw-pads warming with the movement, and hoped that the kitten would feel it, too. And, as Tatteredpelt approached, she looked up from what she was doing -- continuing the motions despite the worrying behaviors of her clanmate.


    When the warrior made his demand, Otterpaw muttered a "Y-yes, sir!" and quickly plucked up the kitten by its little scruff, that warm-and-fuzzy motherly feeling inside her heart growing as she trotted after the others with the baby hanging from her maw. A little meekly, her ears burning, the molly then called after Wasppaw, voice muffled by fur and flesh: "G-Gingerkit. T-tell th-them his n-name's G-Gingerkit."


    A selfish addition, sure; but Otterpaw thought that, perhaps, a name might make this ordeal a little easier. "Gingerkit" was easier to say than "that kit we just found."
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    Wasppaw of Skyclan


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    Wasppaw opened his mouth to remind the she-cat that grooming against the fur would warm it up, as thats what queens did with their newborns, but he closed his maw when he took note that Otterpaw knew what she was doing with her pawing. Though his antsing grew even more nervous, fearful was he that the fragile kitten might get hurt under Otterpaw's paws. Not that he doubted her, after all, she was quite graceful and gentle, but sometimes a feather is enough to topple a boulder on a cliff.
    Wasppaw felt the fur on his neck rise as his grandfather appeared, a rage he had never seen before burning in his amber eyes. The pale boy couldn't help glance warily at Tatteredpelt's unsheathed claws, taking a unconscious step towards the kitten - as if to protect it in case Tatteredpelt's anger was something to be feared.
    Immediately, Wasppaw felt a wave of shame. Even if it were for a split second, doubting his grandfather - and mentor's - intention was horrible. Some loyal family he was turning out to be!
    But, before Wasppaw could barrage himself, Tatteredpelt turned to him and growled his orders. Jumping back into the emergency situation, WAsppaw quickly nodded and whirled around, bolting back to camp.
    Just as he was racing back home to tell the queens to prepare, he managed to catch Otterpaw's mentioned title for the kitten. Gingerkit, ey? He frowned, ditermination etching his expression as he ran, "Welcome to the clan, Gingerkit" he mumbled through his breaths, praying this would not be the child's first and last visit to Skyclan.



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