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    Five days. It has been five days every since Uranuskit had left the nursery and he was ready to go outside into the blistering cold again. He had been studying battle techniques every day and he spent most of his time in the nursery, curled up beside his mother, listening to her stories of the stars and how then moon gave you strength in the night. Now the blue tortoiseshell wanted to go back outside, thinking he was ready for the dangers of the outside. He peeked out of the nursery, watching the sun warm up the camp. The air was frosty, as usual, but Uranuskit didn't mind. He stopped a purr from escaping his lips and his sea green eyes glinted. Crouching down, Uranuskit crept out the nursery, keeping low to the freezing cold ground. He saw kits playing with moss balls from the corner of his eye and his muscles tensed. He looked at them, narrowing his eyes. Child's play. He thought to himself, sitting down, tail curled neatly around his paws.

    Sailkit sat quietly in his corner of the den, absolutely motionless. The sweet scent of pine needles invited him outside, but, against his will, refused the subtle offer. He needed to watch this kit. He hadn't been put in Sailit's mini record of cats, which, of course, he needed to be.


    The gray seal tilted his head to the right in thought, as if studying a newfound species. Sailkit swallowed down the words rising up his throat, and they sunk to his belly like an anchor.


    Uranuskit didn't notice Sailkit watching him. His eyes were fixed on the kits while one thought ran through his mind How can they be so immature? The blue tortoiseshell saw a mossball coming towards him and the gleeful shouts from the kits. Ignoring the kits, Uranuskit didn't move from his spot, feeling the mossball whiz past him. He shook his head at the kits and padded over to the apprentice den, watching their battle moves with great interest.

    Salkit finally stood, paws strong beneath him. The moss-layered nursery floor was like a bed of feathers, soft and airy. His tail flicked in annoyance as a younger kit raced past him, accidentally (or on purpose, he wasn't sure) shoving him aside. The tom took one step after another, his steps a steadily beating cadence.