The Trees and the Birds

[thistle.]

ooc: This is my worst post ever. xp

The young brown tabby wrinkled his nose at his black brother's remark, looking slightly confused. "StarClan? Wha's a StarClan? I thought there's was only three other Clans." But the question quickly left his mind when his siblings began to wrestle - they were not going to leave him out of anything! He romped over from the den exit, his thick fur slightly ruffled from the cool breeze that swept over the camp. This was the first time his coat had ever felt the biting cold leaf-bare always brought along with heavy snow. Elmkit looked a bit forward to seeing snow, though. From what he heard from his Clan mates, snow was freezing and drove all the prey to their burrows, but a couple of young apprentices had once told them that snow was fun to catch, if they were 'mouse-brained enough to try'.

The large kitten cleared a few stray bracken fronds easily as he leaped over them to tackle his littermates. I'm gonna defea' you; ya can run but ya can't hide!" His last words were slightly muffled due to his head crammed in between Crowkit and Willowkit. He let out a sneeze and backed out. A couple of whiskers were slightly crooked and Elmkit was completely sure that his facial fur was all messed up, but otherwise he seemed to be okay. "I won, I won, I won!" He bounced around his brother and sister, chin held high arrogantly and his tail waving in the air.

[/blockquote]

[Cloud of Diamonds]

This was too much for the morning. And Swallowpelt was not a morning kind of cat. Well, Swallowpelt wasn't an any time of the day cat, really.

Oh, lovely. Her kits seemed to be enjoying the delicate art of seeing who could be the most mouse-brained from what she could hear, as her sister was blocking some of her view.

But it'd been nice when Sootstorm had come in at least. Her sister. More dependable than Shrikewhisker though more easily angered. It wasn't good, but Sootstorm was at least a cat she could pretty much depend on, not that she needed it now. But it was good.

"Things're okay. Unfortunately my kits seemed to have decided to play pileup." She mumbled.

It was hard to break that habit, the one she had of sometimes speaking somewhat unintelligibly among other cats.

A slight grimace put itself in a familiar place: the large gray she-cat 's flattish face. "Hmph. Outside being noisy most likely. I better go keep an eye on them." She rose, her limbs somewhat shaky from her long stay in bed. I really shouldn't be so lazy, she thought. Or I'll be all out of shape when I return to being a warrior. Like I'm in perfect shape, now though. Well, being built for battles and being built for beauty are two entirely different things and I sure as heck know that, she reflected as she padded slowly around her sister to the nursery entrance.

But a slight smile was brought to her mouth as she paused, looking down at her scuffling children. No other PineClan cat has what I have, she thought. True, they also get to stay warriors and don't have three bouncy furballs to deal with, but they don't have Otterfur as a mate, or two sons and a daughter, or two siblings-

Swallowpelt smothered the little beam of sunshine in her head. Next I'll sound like some girly sap with big eyes and a soppy voice, she thought grimly. Bleah.

Order time. "Kits! Behave! Elmkit, no bragging. I mean it. What have I told you about bragging? And as for StarClan...well, just forget about them. They don't matter." She intoned, shooting Crowkit a bit of a look.

Maybe she'd get down on the other two later.

[glowlynose]

Crowkit exhaled sharply as his brother forced his head into his side. This caused him to lose his footing and stumble. Now Willowkit was on top of his back, and sure to start gloating as soon as she recovered from the shock of the sudden fall. Well, he'd have none of that. He wriggled out from underneath her paws and shot himself at her in an attempt to bowl her over. He knew he was the stronger one; if he could only get his sister beneath his paws, he could win the battle! A shrill cry of victory pierced his consciousness. Ah, now Elmkit thought himself the victor, did he? Ha! Crowkit would see about that! Abandoning his effort to subdue Willowkit, he took up a hot pursuit of his brother.

"You didn't either win, Elmkit! I'll show you!" he called after the brown ball of fluff. "Heeeee-yaaaahhhhhhhhh!" Before Elmkit could have a say about it, Crowkit pounced forward. Something caught his attention mid-flight, though, so instead of landing firmly beside his brother, he sprawled on the ground, sending a cloud of dust up into the air. A tiny white flower stuck out from the thick band of forestry that lined the PineClan camp. Something drew Crowkit to this flower, with its five delicate petals and bright yellow center. His head tipped to one side as he examined it, tail sticking straight up in the air.

"Fwah!" He leaped backward, hackles raised. There was yellow stuff on the nose! He'd only wanted to smell the flower, and now his nose tickled and probably looked really funny too. In a vain attempt to free his nose from the few bits of pollen that clung to it, his paws scrubbed. He even rubbed his face on the ground. Then he started to giggle. It was a mystery to him, the reason why he giggled, he just... did it. It seemed appropriate.

I bet mom would like this flower! It's ever so much fun. With a definite prance in his step, Crowkit went to retrieve the flower and give it to Swallowpelt. She was so grumpy this morning. Why was she so grumpy? The prance increased as he sauntered over to where his mother was. There was a definite dark cloud around the area she occupied. He could always tell where Swallowpelt was that way.

"Look mom! I got a flo'r for you! Why are you so grumpy today? Do you like it mom? Huh? DO ya? It's pretty, and it made me think about you b'cause you're pretty and it's fun and look! It got my nose all funny!" Crowkit looked up at Swallowpelt with an expression of utter glee. Nothing could ever dash this bright young tom's mood. He set the flower before his mother and stepped back a pace, wondering why she seemed so troubled. Was it something he'd done wrong?

[/center]

[Cloud of Diamonds]

The large queen sighed. Why did kits do random things for no reason? I guess it all comes down to the blessing of youthful energy, she guessed. Excitable little things. Before her time as a mother, Swallowpelt had hardly ever spent any time around kits. Like many things, they just made her more grumpy.

She watched bemusedly as her night-pelted son tumbled with his siblings. Crowkit. There were some days when Swallowpelt wondered how he was related to her. Must be Otterfur's blood, she guessed. It was the only way she could think of to explain his vast personality difference. But then, he was young. Maybe he would be more like her as time went on. She doubted it, though, and didn't particularly want any of her kits to be like her anyway.
After all, I'm hardly the most adored cat in PineClan, she knew. She grimly reflected that they might get teased when they were apprentices, because their mother is big and ugly. Oh well. I'll suck it up, as usual, she thought. Life will go on.

As she came back to earth, she realized Crowkit was in her face. His words shook her out of her reverie and were even enough to change her usual expression of sullenness to one of surprise. She couldn't help smiling a little at the expression of utter glee on his face. He sure liked flowers.

"Uh, thanks, Crowkit."

The PineClanner chuckled.

"I'm usually grumpy, Crowkit. It's just the way I am."

I like the flower."

She scraped the flower towards her with a paw. It was nice. Kind of fragile, but nice to look at. Of course, it'd probably die soon. But she wouldn't tell her son that. It would be too mean.

His last words made her stop dead for a moment in a pure "what?" moment.

So rarely had the queen ever been told she was pretty. Nope. Pretty much no cat was willing to lie to her on that one.

"Well, Crowkit...I...am happy you think I'm pretty. Most cats consider me otherwise, because of my scars and to a lesser extent my general build, y'see."

She looked at his face. Yup. There was some yellow stuff 'round his nose.

"My advice would be not to stick your face in them, then. Even if they smell really good."

[skyy]

ooc: Sorry for this terrible post.

bic!
The small she-cat hissed as Elmkit forced his big head in-between Crowkit and herself. She could not believe he was so arrogant and self-centered. She batted at his head before he pulled away and bragged about winning something that was nowhere near finished. The only thing that came good out of Elmkit jumping in was Willowkit managed to get on top of Crowkit.
It was short lived as Crowkit managed to throw her off and she struggled to get out from under him. She cried out as she found it close to impossible to get out of his hold. To Willowkit’s relief he let go to chase the biggest kit from the litter, Elmkit.
‘Crowkit is just odd’ thought Willowkit as he abandons his attack on Elmkit for a flower. She watched him take the flower over to their mother and Willowkit slid over to Elmkit. “Hey Elmkit,” whispered Willowkit in his ear, “want to sneak out of camp?” Her grey eyes sparkled at the troublesome plan. She flicked her tail and hoped that her mother and sister did not hear.
Willowkit flicked her ear as some of what her mother said to Crowkit came to her. 'A flower for mother, really Crowkit?'

[prowler.]

LYNXPELT

✖Lynxpelt awoke to the crisp day with an icy shock as freezing air poured into the abnormally crowded Medicine Cat's Den. Someone had evidently left just moments before and carelessly left the moss brushed aside, joints aching from stiffness the massive tomcat pulled himself upright, blinking deeply, a slight frown pulling at his features. For days now, every time Lynxpelt closed his eyes to sleep, dark birds fluttered behind his lids, ever persistent. Casting his eyes around the den, Lynxpelt dismissed his concerns with his sleepless nights and took in his company - several cats sick or complaining of colds or aches lay spread around, whilst Redclaw lay sleeping, as did Lynxpelt's own apprentice, Littlepaw. Lynxpelt winced at the last feline, looking hastily away - by duty he had taken on Littlepaw as his own apprentice to set an example - he was Head Medicine Cat, so he had to take on such a responsibility. But still, all he saw when he heard the name was his old apprentice Smallpaw and her fragile, dying body before him. He would not make the same mistake twice.

✖Four swift steps took him to the cusp of his den and on a fifth he met the brisk air of morning-to-midday. A haze hid the sun from view so the exact time was indeterminable, all the same, it was chilly and unforgiving-looking and Lynxpelt felt pensive about venturing forth when a warm den sat not far behind him. Still, he knew what he'd had planned for weeks for today, today he would go out and endure the young - he was scouting for the next Medicine Cat apprentice. It was only right that under such vital seasons that Redclaw began training an apprentice right away, Lynxpelt himself was fully overloaded between caring for the sick, collecting herbs and training Littlepaw to ease his load.

✖As he paused, he found himself gazing off across camp, where several feline figures moved. In particular, he found himself drawn to the three tinier figures - one in black stood out like a splash of colour in a grey world. He found himself moving unbidden across the camp, massive paws leaving traces in the cold dust of the camp floor. He swiped his tongue over his maw as he neared the group, eyes focussed inexplicably on the black kit. Suddenly he realized his intimate distance away from the group and looked up, fixing his gaze on Swallowpelt. Of course, Lynxpelt had more than heard of the she-cat; Otterfur's mate, the latest Queen of the clan and undoubtedly the kit's mother. Lynxpelt had been there during the birthing, overseeing it and giving her strengthening herbs moments prior.

✖All the same, he had not remained present after she was in the clear - not long enough to get wound up in the complexities of family matters, suchas naming. Despite a professional business, in which the reference was "Swallowpelt's kits", Lynxpelt had kept himself perfectly detached. Moments like namings reminded him bitterly of the possible unanswered question as to his own kits, somewhere out there in the world. But now, now was different - Lynxpelt needed information about these kits as, chances be like they were, they were one of the few litters to be around within PineClan for a long time. And something about that black kit...

✖"Names?" He said, abruptly, fierce golden gaze piercing the distance between himself and Swallowpelt, "What did you name these kits?" He asked, a more than obvious strong interest becoming prominent. As he awaited a reply, his gaze swept back to them - he was so certain, something about that little black kit... Yes, the one with pollen smudged all over his nose, despite his obvious current immaturity, this cat just emanated something special. Not like other cats, Lynxpelt had only felt this once before, back when... Back when he'd chosen Smallpaw, his own apprentice, so long ago. Turning away, he looked back up at Swallowpelt, shifting his massive reclined figure, broad shoulders set as he raised his brow questioningly.

ooc; sorry for kindof pushing my way into the thread e.e; i kinda have to, glowy knows why :'] i'll just quickly interrupt though, before flying out again and leaving the happy family to themselves

[/size]
[/blockquote]

[glowlynose]

Poor little Crowkit could not seem to wrap his mind around why he should not stick his nose in flowers. Sure, the stuff in the middle might make his nose look funny, but flowers smelled so good and were so pretty to look at! He sneezed and shook his head. Ah. That's why. No wonder my nose felt so funny.

"I'm glad you like the flower, mom." The little black-pelted kit beamed up at his mother. How could anyone not think she was pretty? Sure, she had a few scars here and there, but those didn't detract from her beauty in the least. As he looked up at his mother he couldn't help but wish that there was some way he could help her. If only she could see herself through his eyes. Then she might see the way the sun played across her, and how the breeze moving the limbs of the trees around made the patches of sun eddy and flow, as if her pelt was a river filled with little silver stars where the sun lightened the dark grey fur into shining silver. The scars were only little sandbars in the river, hardly noticable anyway underneath her long fur. His eyes glittered with the pictures of his vivid imagination. For a moment, he almost let himself believe that his mother was a great starry warrior, with stars actually in her pelt, powerful enough to bend the very sky underneath her paws as she stepped. But no, that would be ridiculous, wouldn't it?

"What did you name these kits?"

"Hi!" The little tom whirled around to greet the latest arrival to their group. The older tom was a stranger to Crowkit. He was a massive cat with strangely shaped ears and fierce golden eyes. The eyes themselves were very strange, oddly shaped and set deeper into the old tom's skull than usual. To the night-furred kit, they seemed to be lacking something important. Something that he was sure he'd seen in a cat's eyes before, but not here. Ah, but Lynxpelt's eyes were so close to holding that vital spark that Crowkit could nearly picture it in them. This brought a smile to his face, and he, unaware of how strange his prolonged eye contact with the older tom might seem, walked straight up to him to introduce himsef.

"I'm Crowkit. What's your name? That's my mom, Swallowpelt. I gave her a flower. Isn't it pretty? Do you like flowers, mister cat?" Crowkit smiled up at Lynxpelt and flicked the tip of his tail excitedly. He was making a new friend! The older tom smelled different from the other cats, like leaves and flowers and all the good things in the world. When the warriors and apprentices came back from a day of training, they always smelled rank with sweat and blood. Crowkit decided that he would quite like to smell like this nice old tom every day instead of like everyone else. It was a special smell. Admiration danced across the kit's aquamarine eyes - or was that just the sun catching the few metallic flecks in them?

"You smell nice, mister cat. I like you."

[/center]

[Cloud of Diamonds]

OOC: After this post it's Thistle's turn. Then Prowlie's.

She was a bit surprised to see the head medicine cat padding towards her. What did he want, the gray queen wondered?

That was quickly answered when he quite rudely shoved past her kits and in her face, demanding to know their names.

Leaning back slightly, her pine needle-eyes narrowed. Why did he care now? He had not inquired after they had been born, so why come back so many moons later?

The scarred PineClanner tried to work out the striped tom's intentions while he stared at her.

But wait...Crowkit was speaking? Oh, damn. He'd probably try and-

Well. Here was a surprise. Though she was trying to appear serious and reserved in front of Lynxpelt, it was impossible to repress the small smile that showed on her face as her dark-furred son gabbled on.

So friendly....so easygoing...yet again she found herself wondering how she was his mother. Yet she loved him so.

It was difficult not to bend over and snort when he finished talking.

A small laugh escaped her but the muscular she-cat managed to pass it off as a large cough.

Almost out of context she heard her daughter's whisper. Oh no, thought Swallowpelt, not now you ain't. Not when I have to talk to one of the most important cats in the Clan. She took a moment to aim her own green warning glare at Willowkit and added one at Elmkit for good measure.

"Well, you're already acquainted with my second son. The two behind you are my other son Elmkit and my daughter Willowkit."

She did her best to keep her flattish face neutral, though what she really wanted to do was complain about how he'd just shoved past her kits and then go sulk about the hopelessness of cats in general. But unfortunately, such fun things would have to wait.

[thistle.]

Elmkit let out a little scoff at his black brother's eccentric antics. Flowers? Who cared about dumb flowers? That was silly medicine cat stuff, nothing to do with training to be strong, battle-ready warriors. "Wha'd'ya doin' with flowers, huh Crowkit? C'mon, let's have another playfight!" he called, trying to coax his brother into a mock battle but without success. A few moments with no reply, his attention was diverted toward his sister, who he found he liked better. She had good ideas and was more eager for rowdy activities than poor Crowkit, always sticking his nose in flowers. "Hey Elmkit, want to sneak out of camp?" The tabby nodded enthusiastically and whispered back, "Yeah! We can go and watch the 'pprentices train and hunt! And we can-" Whatever he was going to say next was lost in Lynxpelt's sudden deep rumble. "Woah." He gazed up at the medicine cat's huge stature and stern golden eyes. "Who's he?" he asked Willowkit, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"Well, you're already acquainted with my second son. The two behind you are my other son Elmkit and my daughter Willowkit." Yay for introductions, although Elmkit would've preferred to talk to the red-brown warrior (or rather, a medicine cat, but he didn't know that yet) himself. After all, he wasn't a whining, pathetic kit anymore. Only a moon away from apprenticeship, he spent most of his carefree days sneaking around camp trying to figure out some tips. Maybe he could get some from this intriguing stranger. Pushing his way in front of Crowkit, he meowed, "Are you a really good warrior, sir? Can ya show me a fighting move? Like something that can claw a stupid FogClanner's guts out?" Elmkit batted at the air with unsheathed claws, a pretend growl rising in his throat.

[prowler.]

LYNXPELT

✖ Lynxpelt turned slightly as Crowkit spun and approached him, undisguised intrigue present in the young kit's eyes. That was a good sign, he realized quite suddenly - intrigue, it showed he was more interested than simply hunting, fighting and other more menial tasks. An intellectual ability to learn, to question. Or maybe Lynxpelt was looking too deep into this in order to see just what he wanted. As the young tom spoke, Lynxpelt noticed for the first time the flower at Swallowpelt's paws. A new light shone in his eyes - yes, he was certain this was the cat he had been looking for. The kit's words only redoubled his belief in such as they came.

✖ I'm Crowkit. What's your name? That's my mom, Swallowpelt. I gave her a flower. Isn't it pretty? Do you like flowers, mister cat? Lynxpelt straightened a little and allowed himself a light smile at the young cat's words. He obviously had no idea who he was talking to, not that Lynxpelt blamed them, the kits were barely old enough to be responsibly let roam around camp, let alone meet and get to know all of the more senior warriors and other felines in the clan. A quick glance told him the flower Crowkit had selected - Plumeria pudica, a purely pretty, fragrant flower that served little purpose in the medical world, but Lynxpelt believed had the potential to become a stress relieving herb, if used correctly. He reminded himself silently to continue his studies on the further use of such previously seen as "useless" flowers and herbs, as he believed not enough research was spread into the unknown as such.

✖ All the same, it was unusual to see such a pretty and well-kept flower - that was normally quite sensitive - alive in leafbare, any others of a typical batch of flowers of such ilk would otherwise long withered and died. This flower itself was still small and frail-looking, but Crowkit had shown an excellent eye to spot it amongst the chilled frost covering the camp. After a second moment's thought, he decided to reply, 'Yes, it's very pretty - and rare too in such weather. It's a Plumeria pudica, one of the nicest smelling fragrances the natural world could provide.' He smiled wistfully, remembering how in his younger romances he'd given such a flower to his then-mate Fate. 'I do indeed like flowers, you could even say they are my living. I'm Lynxpelt, he finally introduced himself, giving the slightest inclination of his head, 'Head Medicine Cat.' He added on, for formalities sake.

✖ He finally looked up and brought his attention back to the mother, Swallowpelt. Now this was always the tricky bit - mothers and fathers that couldn't understand why their kit shouldn't go on to fight for their clan, why they had to be doomed to live amongst herbs and flowers. Few parents understood why this was an honourable trade, vital to the clan's survival and wellbeing - they saw it instead as an insult, that the lives they had led weren't good enough for their kit. Lynxpelt nodded idly as he glanced toward the other two kits and felt slightly annoyed with himself that he hadn't really given them much more than a second thought. Turning toward them he watched as the other tomkit - Elmkit, was it? - butted his way past his brother and questioned Lynxpelt.

✖ A warrior then, Lynxpelt decided immediately - this cat was born for it, he'd decided. He had the exact attitude he'd seen so many times in warriors, no patience, no calamity, just rushing, wanting to go out and do this and that, learn to gut a cat and prove himself to the clan. Honourable, Lynxpelt decided, but not his department. He heard the questions however and gave a light, vaguely humoured smirk, 'by living, Warrior's duties are not my profession, but yes, I can fight better than I have ever needed to before.' It was true, Lynxpelt had never been in a situation where he was overpowered or outmatched in battle, not that that had happened lately, but it had frequently in his rogue days. He remembered his clash with the mountain lion, which had left him practically tail-less. He winced lightly at the memory - the one time he'd felt fear, the one time he'd felt matched in a fight.

✖ Quickly casting away such memories, he shook his thick fur slightly, only now it was visible where many scars of his own laced beneath his fur, albeit not as many as many other warriors had taken, but a fair few. 'However, I believe such methods would be best taught to you by your future mentors. Remember, if ever you are in a battle and you force your opponent to surrender without crippling them, do so - many of your enemies will be all hot air, goading and spiteful words; teach them that PineClan will not be mocked as such, but also teach them that we are merciful and all felines alike.' He rumbled, giving his last words on such a matter. He had reason of course to say such things to the future warriors of PineClan - too many days did he see cats that had been arrogant to back out of a fight once they got hurt and he was sure other medicine cats did also. In such a season, when herbs were painfully low, Lynxpelt knew that none of the clans could afford to waste herbs, so they all worked toward the same cause for now - saving lives.

✖ He straightened to his full height and turned to Swallowpelt. In this one conversation he had said more than he typically would've in an entire moon. Rolling his shoulders lightly to relieve the stiffness that gathered beneath his tired fur, he inclined his head aside. 'A word, if you wouldn't mind, Swallowpelt?' He suggested, not waiting for a reply as he padded several foxlengths away - well out of the hearing of the kits - and turned around expectantly.

[/size]
[/blockquote]