Jaggedstar's Twist

Chapter Three:

"But we were just playing!"
Furzekit groggily blinked awake at the exasperated tone of Tawnykit. Through the orange rays of the sunset, he could spot the she-kit laying down beside Hailspot with her head raised and neck-fur bristling.
He must've fallen asleep. He was curled up against Mothfur, who remained peacefully at slumber. Her gentle milky scent must've made him drift off into comforting dreams. Whitekit was beside him, though he was gazing over in the direction of the upset she-kit.
"You could've gotten hurt!" Hailspot's scratchy tone seemed to echo through the walls of the nursery. Tawnykit shrunk back, but her green eyes remained fierce.
"But we didn't, mama." She muttered.
Hailspot's gray-and-white fur began to bush up.
"Don't you be hissy," she snapped. "And don't you talk back to your own mother. You should be grateful that I gave birth to you."

Grateful? I wouldn't want you as my mama! Furzekit silently thought, flicking his tail. You're mean!
His green eyes brimmed with sympathy for Tawnykit. It must've been hard to have such a bad-tempered mother. Pity was clouded in Whitekit's eyes, and they seemed to be stronger than his.

Furzekit glanced back over at Tawnykit. The russet she-kit had scooted closer to her mother, and the last of the fury in her eyes faded.
"I'm sorry mama." She mumbled, shamefully glancing at her paws. "I shouldn't be a bad kit."
"That's right you shouldn't." Hailspot grunted. "Now go and rest. You're probably exhausted from . . . playing in that so called tunnel."
Tawnykit looked ready to object in a heartbeat, but then shook her head and settled down.
The story of the tunnels reappeared in Furzekit's mind when Hailspot had mentioned it.
"Tunnels were dug by what used to be tunnelers," he had heard Duststar said. "It was ended by a leader that was alive even before my own. There were too many cave-ins, and we couldn't risk losing anymore members of our Clan."

Furzekit agreed with him. He could imagine soil pouring into and burning his nose as he suffocated in the darkness underground. He shuddered, curling closer to Mothfur.
Everybody is a moor-runner now. He told himself. But I'll be the fastest one.

He glanced outside of the entrance of the nursery through the dim rays. The dusk patrol was returning to the WindClan camp, and Furzekit could catch a tang of mouthwatering rabbit as it wafted into the nursery. He spotted Shadewhisker padding to a bright ginger tom, admiring the plump rabbit that they had caught.

Furzekit never had the taste of rabbit yet. Mothfur had said that he and Whitekit couldn't eat prey just yet since the flesh would be too chewy for them.
He didn't mind relying on milk for the while, but he was eager to take a bite in whatever his very first prey would be.

Sharpfoot's silver pelt glowed in the dusky light. The long, narrow tom was muttering to a smaller light brown she-cat that sat beside him. Heatherpaw.
The she-cat must've been his apprentice then since she had padded away from the silver tom with a low tail.
Will he come to the nursery and see us? Furzekit perked his ears. Sharpfoot hadn't been in the nursery in forever.
To his disappointment, his father stalked out of Furzekit's sight.
An idea sprawled in his mind. He glanced at Mothfur. She wouldn't mind if he went out of the nursery just to see his father.
He wriggled free from under a large paw, then casted a glance at Hailspot and Tawnykit. Both were asleep,
Wriggling his hindquarters, Furzekit bursted out of the nursery. He tumbled through a patch of grass, then bumped against a furry side.
A pair of amber eyes met his gaze. A jolt of alarm sliced through his chest, and he scrabbled back with a squeak.

A white she-cat with brown speckled on her coat stared at Furzekit with a grin. "Why're you out here, aren't you suppose to be sleeping by now?" She asked.
Furzekit glanced over his shoulder. He caught a glimpse of his father's pelt along with a splash of two others settled beside him. "I just want to see Sharpfoot." He shrugged.
The she-cat nudged him. "You better make it quick then. He's had a long day and he can't wait until he can go in the warriors den and sleep peacefully."
She sounds like an elder. Furzekit thought as he began to creep towards his father. The she-cat sure was talkative.
Straightening, the tom-kit slowly approached Sharpfoot. He recognized the white pelt of Iceclaw and a darker brown pelt of some warrior he did not know. Their face was covered in a darker brown mask.
The three warriors were chattering along like birds while sharing a rabbit.
"That rabbit was pretty tough to catch, but it was worth it. Two plump rabbits today; I wish that happened everyday." Iceclaw spoke in a low tone, pride lighting up his icy eyes.
"Prey can't just come to you, you know." The darker brown tom replied.
Iceclaw shrugged. "I wish it did. It wouldn't be so much work."

The brown tom rolled his eyes. "Laziest warrior I've ever seen. What would you do for the rest of your life then if prey just comes to you?"
Sharpfoot was silent during the conversation, his amber eyes fixed on the glowing sunset.

Furzekit cleared his throat to grab the tom's attention. It seemed to work, and Sharpfoot jerked his head towards the noise. "Oh, hello Furzekit!" He grinned.
Furzekit felt a warm trickle of pride for his father's friendliness.
Iceclaw followed Sharpfoot's gaze. His piercing eyes narrowed. "What is he doing out here? Shouldn't he be in the nursery with Mothfur?"
Sharpfoot gave a nod. "Of course he should be. What do you need Furzekit?"

Disappointment jabbed through Furzekit. Casting a small glance at Iceclaw, he turned towards his father. "I don't need anything. I just wanted to see you."
"You can see me in the morning, Furzekit." Sharpfoot murmured, reaching over and touching his nose to his son's head for a brief moment.
Furzekit nodded. "What about Whitekit?"
"Of course he can come too. That's if he wants to." Sharpfoot replied.

"He sounds like a she-cat," Furzekit heard Iceclaw snort to the dark brown tom beside him. The white warrior glanced at Furzekit.
Sharpfoot glared at Iceclaw. "You sound like a lazy kittypet that complains about his food everyday."

He glanced back at Furzekit, nudging him towards the nursery. "Go." His tone seemed to harden.
Furzekit nodded. He couldn't help but feel another trickle of disappointment. He wanted to spend actual time with his father, not just a few heartbeats. He blocked out the sounds of the irritated warriors behind him. If it wasn't for Iceclaw, Sharpfoot wouldn't of have been in a bad mood.

Sighing, he slipped through the entrance of the nursery.
"Where were you?"
Hailspot's tone made Furzekit stiffen. Gulping, he turned to the gray-and-white she-cat. Her eyes gleamed in the dying light.
"I-I just wanted to go see Sharpfoot."
He heard Hailspot's tail lashing against the moss beneath her. "Well you shouldn't be disturbing him. He's tired from his duties."
"I just wanted to say hi to him!" Furzekit mewled out in protest. The very ends of his fur began to rise. Just then, a soothing stroke made his fur lie flat.
Mothfur's scent seemed closer to him than ever, and he slowly let himself slump against the pale she-cat.
"It's alright, Furzekit." She murmured comfortingly, then glanced at Hailspot. "He is fine, Hailspot. There's no need to fret."
Fret?! She would claw my eyes out if she had the chance. Furzekit's fur prickled, but it was lied flat as Mothfur groomed him.

Hailspot snorted from the corner. "Okay. He just needs to stop disturbing so many cats. He'll give them all a pain."
Mothfur ignored the comment and continued to rasp her tongue soothingly over Furzekit's pelt. Soon, he finally gave into sleep, letting his mother's sweet and milky scent wrap around him.