"You know you don't have to be a jerk about," a small kit mewed gently, coming up behind Broken Rock. "They're just trying their best, and it doesn't always work out."
Broken Rock, who had been curled up in a ball, snarled, standing up. "I don't want to hear it, Falling Bark! Just leave me alone!"
Falling Bark shook his head. "No... Rock, I'm you're brother, and you need someone to calm you down. Come on, how 'bout we play mossball?" He suggested
"It's Broken Rock," he scoffed. Falling Bark was genuinely surprised that Bright Stream would've given Broken Rock another name. It didn't seem likely. Either way, he listened as Broken Rock continued. "And I'm too /old/ to play mossball."
"Broken Rock, you're seven moons!" He exclaimed, rolling his eyes. "You're just shy of being a kit, you don't have to act like you're a cave-gaurd or prey hunter already!"
"Not exactly what I meant but whatever," Broken Rock muttered bitterly to himself.
Falling Bark sighed. "Get over it, Rock." Broken Rock opened his mouth to muttered a sharp retort, but Falling Bark already knew what it was. "Tell me, when and why did Bright Stream give you the name, 'Broken Rock'?"
Broken hesitated. "She... didn't. I gave it to myself."
"Now, why would you do that?"
"Because, had given me a name that set me aside from other cats. I just wanted a normal name. So I called myself Broken Rock."
Falling Bark narrowed his eyes slightly, as he tilted his head to the side. "And you... you expected her to call you that? Fluttering Bird? Half Moon? I don't think so."
"Well they already did," he mewed with a shrug. "So Whatever you want to believe isn't my problem."
Falling Bark sighed. "Rock that's not the-"
Broken Rock began coughing uncontrollably.
