Posts by carnationpaw

That the boy was an orphan was clear. His father had drowned in the gorge before he'd even been born and a solid moon had past since his mother had been declared missing. She might still be alive somewhere, out in the loner lands or with a twoleg family, but she certainly wasn't in WindClan, with him. Carrotkit had walked around in a daze for the first week after his mother's disappearance had been announced a closed case, but in the time since, he'd grown fond of the sympathy his older clanmates showered upon him. Getting offered trinkets and his favorite prey didn't bring his parents back, but he was happy to squash down the hurt and milk the warriors and queens for all the free stuff he could get.

Currently, his orange and cream frame could be spotted wiggling in the lush green summer grass. Eagles weren't the most common sight in WindClan but one must have passed by recently. All it had taken was wide, pleading eyes from Carrotkit to convince the jumpy apprentice who'd found one of the eagle's feathers that she ought to give it to the poor, orphaned kit. A loud thanks later, and he could be found tumbling in the grass alongside his treasured new toy, letting out loud squawks as he pretended to be the majestic bird that the feather had once belonged to.

WindClan's troubles had always seemed to pale in comparison to his own. Carrotkit barely thought about how his home was enduring. It had existed long before he'd been born, after all - probably since before the stars had come into existence - and he couldn't imagine any setback truly devastating it. WindClan was simply home, and if anything unpleasant happened, it was easy to close his eyes and pretend that nothing had changed.

The young flame point's game was interrupted by an unhappy voice behind him. Startled, Carrotkit let the feather drop from between his jaws, silky fur bushing out as he twisted around to face the warrior. Go back?! His ears flattened, spirit drooping. But he was having fun! Smokehaze sure was a stick in the mud. Clambering back to his paws, he tried to wind his way between the older cat's paws, baby-blue eyes widening as he softly insisted, "But I like it here! Please, Smokehaze?"

Even if stories didn't interest him (and spoiler: they did) Carrotkit would still have been at Birdkit's heels. The days were long and monotonous; anything that broke them up and temporarily distracted him was a win in his books. Flopping down and resting his head on two flame colored paws, Carrotkit scoffed, "Ha-ha, you never had a childhood." Geezer. He couldn't imagine Rulindil as young. It was like imaging the sky was green or dogs could be nice - in other words, impossible.

Carrotkit's interactions with Halcyon and Hawkpaw had been severely limited. That was for the best, really; a kit his age shouldn't need to see the medicine cat or his apprentice very often. At most, the cream and red child knew the two as clanmates.

He'd been playing alone when Halcyon's blotched figure caught his attention. Pausing, the kit fixed robin's egg blue eyes on the older tom, watching curiously as the medicine cat approached the camp's exit. Interest sparkled in his eyes as Halcyon announced a herb hunt. A chance to get out! This opportunity was a gift from StarClan! No one could argue that he didn't deserve to go. He was an amazing hunter, or as good as a four moon old could be, and if he got hurt, both healers would be right there to save him. Puffing out his chest, he bobbed toward the white and grey tom, loudly announcing, "I'm ready to help."

Adult sanctioned fun wasn't nearly as exciting as an illegal adventure, but if it got him out of the camp, Carrotkit was willing to take it. He turned nervously toward Rulindil as the deputy approached, twitching tail betraying his anxiety. For a moment, he expected to be sent away, but the grizzled tom seemed more amused than upset. His gaze floated from Rulindil, past Hawkpaw and Patchhowl, toward Halcyon as he waited to hear what the other would say. The male's answer delighted him and euphoria bubbled through his veins, causing him to bounce up on his paws as though gravity had lost its control over him. "Thanks, Halcyon! Thanks, Rulindil!"

With the monumental issue of his participation cleared up, the conversation turned toward where they would be heading. Carrotkit hadn't realized that there were some spots more suited for growing certain herbs than others, and he listened with interest as Hawkpaw made a suggestion. They'd be going near the water? Excellent! Even if all the plants were dried out there (and really, Carrotkit thought, whiskers twitching, the plants shouldn't be dried out there, not when there was so much water to drink) he might see a fish, and wouldn't that get all the other kits jealous?

Coming out clearing hadn't been as clever an idea as Carrotkit had thought. He squirmed as Hawkpaw and Fluxpaw approached, silently praying that one of them would defend him to Smokehaze. Neither did, of course, but Hawkpaw offered an acceptable substitute. "Really? You won't kick me out?" Even the elders got tired of having kits hanging around after a while. They needed rest, his tail! More like, they were nasty, selfish creatures who didn't deserve the comfort of his presence. "Can I bring my feather?"

Fluxpaw's remark terrified him. Carrotkit drew back, attempting to press against Hawkpaw in search of comfort. Fluxpaw was so creepy sometimes. If Carrotkit was in charge, the alabaster apprentice would be kicked out in an instant. "Don't say that! I don't want my guts torn out!" It wasn't like he was the first kit who'd ever sneaked out, and no one else had come back with their innards missing. Nonetheless, he was certain to have nightmares from the harsh comment.

Carrotkit had been allowed to join the recent herb hunting patrol, but he wasn't so naïve as to think that he'd be allowed out a second time. Real warriors didn't want a noisy kit around when they hunted and patrolled, silly as the fire-touched child thought that to be. He refused to give up, though, so he headed toward the tired deputy, coming to a stop beside him. "Rulindil, can I help you assign the patrols, please?"

Sometimes, it was easy to pretend that life was going great. For Carrotkit, one of those times would be when his fur was matted with dirt and his limbs loose from wild exercise, an earthworm wriggling limply beneath one paw. His eyes sparkled, mischief and excitement chasing away any insecurities that may have lingered in his deep blue eyes, pure, childish joy written across his face. "I found an earthworm!" His voice was high and bright, strong enough to fill the cavern. Spearing the worm with a claw and dangling it up for all to see, he asked, "Are earthworms eat-able?" If so, they could be counted as real prey, and he could easily boast that he'd caught real prey way before he became an apprentice. If rumors were to spread about him, he thought they should be impressive, and this was a suitable start.

Carrotkit thought that he could probably name every warrior, apprentice, queen, and kit in the clan. For all his outward exuberance, he'd spent nearly a moon drawn into himself while he waited for the searching warrior to find hide or hair of his mother. He'd lacked the energy to spend that time feeling sorry for himself, and aside from nervous worrying and gnawing of his lip, he'd taken to memorizing the features of each of his clanmates. If something should happen to one of them, Carrotkit wanted their face etched sharply in his memory, just as his mother's was.

He'd been about to see if Hawkpaw wanted any company when a brilliantly white molly slipped from the shadows. The young flame point was silent for a moment, staring wide-eyed at the lithe apprentice. Her voice startled him for his stillness and a wide smile broke out across his face as he scampered toward Streampaw. "I'm here! I'm always around. I'm too young to leave the camp, you know."

Well, of course he was right. Carrotkit wasn't a liar, except when it was convenient, and even then he usually ended up blurting out the truth after a few anxious seconds. "I'm Carrotkit. I'm not old enough to be a warrior. I'm only old enough to be a kit." His tone was matter-of-fact. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he'd eventually be old enough to become a warrior. Everyone else managed it, after all, and there was no reason he should be any different.

His gaze traveled toward Desdemona as the newcomer approached. Carrotkit hadn't been introduced to her yet, but the whole idea of meeting a stranger was exciting. (Fluxpaw would probably say that strangers could rip his innards out, but if the stranger was allowed into WindClan, they were probably too nice to do something like that.) Bouncing up slightly to try catching the Abyssinian's attention, he blurted out, "Are you gonna take a clan name? Rulindil and Halcyon don't have one, but everyone else does. I do."

He paused, considering Desdemona's question, and jumped in before Streampaw could answer. "I bet you didn't take your assessment yet, right Streampaw? Is the assessment hard?"

"Really?" A delighted smile crept over Carrotkit's maw as he stared at Patchhowl. "Should I put it on the freshkill pile? What's a famine, anyway?" He had no idea is WindClan was currently experiencing a "famine," although his guess would be that they weren't, considering that the freshkill pile wasn't full of earthworms. Still, he was proud of the fact that he'd caught something his clanmates could resort to eating, should the need arise.

He blinked softly at Desdemona, trying to puzzle out why she seemed so amused. Did she think he was a bad hunter, perhaps? "I dare you to eat it!" he challenged, nudging the tiny worm toward the she-cat.

The boy glanced both ways before cautiously sneaking into the stables. At ten years of age, Cary was too young to train as a dragonrider in the king's army. At ten years of age, he was too young to be anywhere near dragons, hence his abundant caution in entering the stables. The great stone building could house up to thirty dragons at a time, although there were usually far. Most were out on patrol, after all, or fighting in the war that had devastated numerous lives. Besides, the tiny village surrounding the stables only existed to provide a waystation for the dragonriders as they travelled between the capital and the eastern edge of the kingdom. The current war was being fought in the east, although the village has existed long before that as one of half a dozen training grounds for the king's dragonriders. In just five years' time, Cary would be old enough to apply for training as a dragonrider. Few applicants managed to succeed to training, although the number had been steadily increasing as the war dragged on. Besides, everyone knew that people in the village tended to have an easier time bonding dragons than most - working with dragons provided their livelihood, after all.

Letting the door swing shut behind him, Cary pressed against a shadowed wall, raising a pale hand to run it through his ginger locks. Carrot-top, his mother used to call him, and he was proud of his hair. The most famous dragonknight of all, Sir Artur Morgan, was said to have been a redhead. If Cary achieved half of what Sir Artur had, he'd be famous throughout the kingdom. Sir Cary the Swift, they might call him, or Sir Cary the Bold.

The scrabbling of great claws caught his attention and Cary shook himself from his daydreams. Someone was entering the stables, and there was no way he wouldn't be caught. The boy blanched, trying to press further into the shadows. If he was lucky, it would just be a new dragonrider who'd come to stable their dragon, and who wouldn't recognize that he was too young to be anywhere near the dragons. If it was a dragontrainer or stableworker, he was in for a load of trouble. Worst of all, all he could do was wait and silently pray that he wouldn't end up in too much trouble.