Chapter Three

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A distinct mew bubbled through the darkness, as faint as the wind that sung nightly in the camp

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A distinct mew bubbled through the darkness, as faint as the wind that sung nightly in the camp. "Dunekit. Dunekit, wake up."

The young tom's ears perked up and scanned the room for the sound. Dunekit's body tensed, though he refrained from moving anything other than his frantically twitching ears.

"Dunekit."

The kit jerked his head up, locking his gaze to where the serene mew resonated. There was only the flat floor and the den walls a stride beyond that. Dunekit ached to see the cat who called to him- even a vanishing silhouette would satisfy him. But he was the only wakefull soul in the desolate nursery as another kit snoozed in the corner, not awoken by the voice- if they heard it at all. Even his own mother was leaving the nursery to return to her warrior duties once the sun poured light into the ravine.

The bitter nostalgia of feeling lost returned to him, something he first felt when wandering outside of his shady den long ago. The feeling prowled him like a hungry coyote, striking silently with no howl. Dunekit had prayed that keeping himself in the nursery- or no further than the fresh-kill pile- would keep the canine at bay, but it kept lunging at him again and again, sinking its teeth into any day's gifted moment of contentment.

Dunekit's long legs lifted him from the cotton bedding. His only remaining response to this consuming dread was focusing on instinctual needs. He licked his lips, parched from the dry Fawn's Season nights. The kit shuffled out of the nursery, where the walls of the ravine spared him from the sun's heat. The kit leaned over the shrinking stream of water that cascaded through the camp and began to lap at the StarClan-blessed spring. When water fully satisfied his tongue, he took a few steps back from the stream and turned his head to the blue sky, embracing the glowing clouds with his eyes. No cloud threatened rain that would mask the bright sky. Dunekit had known the cool airs of his camp for six moons now, and today he would feel the air outside of the hospitable ravine. For the first time in a while.

With the euphony of lapping water, Dunekit leveled his head to see LightClan warriors joining to drink the water after contributing to the collection of fresh-kill. The kit hopped over the stream past the warriors, closing in on the aroma of prey. He clawed a corpulent mouse from the pile of fresh-kill and kicked it along until he was beside the nursery.

As Dunekit began to eat, heavy pawsteps made their place before him to drop its own share of nourishment.

"I saw you enjoying your last careless day as a kit," the cat mewed. "StarClan gave you a pleasant day to be made an apprentice."

Dunekit nodded, then swallowed some fresh-kill. His kithood was destroyed moons ago.

"Your eyes are glossed." Riverpelt bent over the mouse to grasp her son's focus. "Are you okay?"

Dunekit lifted a paw to wipe his eyes. "Staring at the bright sky."

"Ah," the mother conceded. "I'll ask for the ceremony to start whenever Slatekit has had some prey. Are you excited?"

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