Warriors: What Is There To Do?

Chapter 15- Colors

She sniffled. Rainkit thought she was sad. She never felt it before. From her mother's words, she had been born three sunrises ago. She hadn't opened her eyes yet. Skyheart is worried; apparently she was supposed to have done that by now. Her father is worried too.

'Don't worry; I just don't think it would be a good idea,' she would try to say, but words would never come out of her mouth. She wasn't sure if it was supposed to be that way... Skyheart didn't seem bothered that Rainkit didn't reply to her mews.

Her mother would tell her everything; maybe she thought that if she could make the places you could only see with open eyes seem nice enough then Rainkit would open them. It almost worked, but she was always stopped by this funny feeling... sort of like she was going to sneeze, but not quite.

What were colors? That was one of the things that Skyheart spoke of that she didn't understand in the slightest. Rainkit hadn't the slightest clue what blue, red, yellow, or orange were. Skyheart said the only color she could see with her eyes closed was black so she was comforted. But she didn't like the color black. It made her scared.

Her mother would comfort her, still half asleep, to not be afraid of the dark, before she drifted off again into the soft, painless bliss of sleep.

But the black is everywhere! It was like running away from your breath! Rainkit was sick of it.

The day that she had opened her eyes, the colors had made her head throb. Colors, everywhere! She didn't know what their names were, and she still hadn't after she had been left alone in the Nursery, shunned. She learned through the cracks in the reeds. That had been most of her life.

Her favorite color was green. It was very sparse in the Riverclan camp, with it being brown reeds and bracken, but she saw little bits: the small spouts of moss, the little blades of grass that would spring out between her claws, or the eyes of the medicine cat who tormented her. She didn't like that green, though.

Ever since she had opened her eyes, the best part about it had been the colors.

That was exactly what Splitpaw lacked right now: color.

It was very dark. Her eyes hurt.

She was a little scared.

There was one thing to keep her from going into a panic: Moonpaw's pelt.

It was soft, and warm. It reminded her that she didn't have her eyes closed: she was padding down a very thin, dark tunnel on the side of the mountain. They had finally made it to the Moonstone; the moon was almost all the way in the sky and they were tired beyond words. The Thunderpaths were silent, there were no monsters.

Moonpaw was pouting that he didn't get to see a monster eat a Twoleg. After he described what he thought it looked like, so was she.

She wished she at least saw a monster! It was empty... the only thing indifferent was the horrid, acrid smells and the rough black rock. They still sped as fast as they could across it.

The tunnel was dark. She couldn't see. And she was scared.

She kept her pelt pressed against Moonpaw's, not trying to make him uncomfortable, but she didn't think she would be okay if she was on her own right now.

She felt him stop in front of her. She stretched her eyes, relief flooding through her like the rain had earlier that day, as there was a faint glow ahead.

They walk up to it.

They stare.

It's smaller than Splitpaw had thought.

"Hey... Splitpaw? Do you think Starclan will... have a prophecy for you? For me?"

She shook her head. If Starclan had something planned for her, they would've visited her sooner.

"Not me, at least. Who knows... maybe you will be like that cat... who Firestar was in those Nursery tales that you told me last night."

He had insisted on telling her a few, upon hearing that she didn't know any.

"...If Starclan doesn't visit you... dream about me, okay?"