Shimmerkit sat in the center of camp, his paws sinking into the snow. The small tom scraped away a patch of the snow and turned to look back at the small pile of things beside him. A lot of it was flowers and plants he had found, withering away in the chill of leaf-bare. He couldn't leave them there. He'd have to put them with the rest of his stash inside the nursery, where he had been hiding interesting plants and rocks he had found around the camp.
He leaned down to sniff at the patch of earth he had uncovered, discovering a small dandelion, wilting under the snow. Shimmerkit liked dandelions. Everybody said they were weeds, and his mother had always scolded him for staring at plants, but he liked the flowers anyway. This one was yellow. Shimmerkit preferred the fluffy white ones; he liked to blow the fuzz away and bat at the seeds as they drifted off.
But this yellow one was still very nice too. He took it between his teeth and deposited it on top of his pile before turning to look around the camp. He could almost hear his mother scolding him again. But what else was he to do? He hadn't made many friends in Thunderclan yet. Everyone always seemed very busy.