The pallid white morning light filtered through the leaves above which were now dappled with russet spots as bright as ember mixed in with more drab, muddy shades as the points of each leaf curled against the chill of leaf-fall, illuminating the unrefined tabby blotches of Wolfkit's silvery, lengthy pelt ask he emerged from the mouth of the nursery.
In three more moons, would he really be an apprentice? That seemed far in the distant future to the mute kitten - three more moons was enough time for him to live his life thus far another time over. Instead of impatience stirring in the depths of his chest, the thought comforted him. Without a voice, his future seemed uncertain. What if he got killed in battle because he couldn't alert his Clanmates that he was in trouble? He flicked a tufted ear, redirecting his attention to the center of camp, watching through dark pools of amber as a leaf fell atop the fresh-kill pile.