[ foxkit ] [ golden ticked british shorthair with olive eyes ] [ one moon ] [ female ] [ trad. windclan ] [npc x npc ]
as the frigidest of sunrises crept over the snow-covered moor, upon the glistening white expanse was a disturbance in the snow- a small lump of reddish-gold fur steadily becoming coated in crystalline flurries of frozen vapor. crying out little mewls in protest, the round-faced she-kit flailed about in a desperate attempt to not be swallowed up by the alabaster earth. it was all she could do as she'd lost feeling in her limbs, the tips of her ears now consumed by frostbite. any former scent had been replaced by the raw, icy smell of leaf-bare.
//injuries: frostbitten ears, low body temp.





Buzzardflight never heard their words but he could see them. Kits. He wanted to punish them every time they sneak out. But he suppose he should be more relaxed about it. His blue eyes looked over the situation. What was happening. The white tom made his move to get closer to the small group,