Stupid stinki cat story meowww

3 - Wheat

A fluffy cream tabby settled among his campmates, packed in the main den.  Many of his campmates had already drifted to sleep or were chatting quietly to one another.  A grey tabby tom began picking his way over to the cream cat, careful not to step on anyone.  "I'm really sorry about things, Wheat."  The grey cat meowed, dropping a fish.

Wheat shook himself slightly.  "It's alright."  He mewed, blinking.  He had been supposed to make the walk to North Camp for the last moon of his training.  All trainees spent at least one moon in a camp other than where they were born, and North Camp was the last one for Wheat, then the storm blew in, stirring the grounded snow and adding more.  The snow had begun to fall before sunset and by the time it was dark, the snow fell so heavily that a cat could barely see his own whiskers.

The grey tabby pushed the fish toward Wheat and settled beside him.  "Onion says we'll have to wait out the storm and maybe even wait for the snow to melt some before we can head out."

Wheat took a bite out of the fish.  The den was growing warmer as the snow clogged up any holes in the den walls.

A quiet squeaking grew louder as three small kits ran up to Shrew.  One immediately wrapped his paws around Wheat's head.  Tilting his head, the kit slid off.  Wheat nudged him with his muzzle, thrusting the kit away.  Squeaking, the kit bounced around, then turned to Shrew.  "Flake says you're staying!"

Shrew nodded, licking a grey paw and drawing it over his face.  "We have to wait for the storm, then the snow."

"See?  I told you she wasn't lying!"  One of the kits meowed, a she-kit who had grey stripes like her father.

The brown tom kit that tackled Wheat pulled the same move on his sister, only this time his paws wrapped all around her and not just her head.

Wheat blinked at the three kits and was actually glad he was staying a while longer.  Though they were his mentor's kits and entirely unrelated, he felt like an older brother to them.  He'd already been in training when they were born and had became close to them as they grew older.  If he left with Shrew in the morning, the kits would be without their father and their friend for at least a moon, but with the storm, they both got to stay a while longer.

Shrew got to his paws and pulled his two kits apart.  "By the stars, Mud, can you please stop attacking every cat you touch?"

"No!"  The kit shrieked, sinking his tiny teeth into his father's foreleg.

"Right.  Wheat, I'll be back."  He huffed, walking away with Mud still wrapped around his paw.

The grey she-kit followed after, but the other kit, a brown and white tom kit, stayed behind and sat down beside Wheat.  "Can I have some?"  He mewed, prodding the fish with a tiny paw.

Wheat looked down at the kit, then to the fish.  He took a moment to realize what had been said to him.  "Oh, yeah.  You can have it."  He meowed.  Stretching out onto his side, he gave the little kit a few licks over the ears.  The kit's body vibrated as he purred, making small "Num, num, num" sounds as he ate the fish.  Wheat snorted in amusement.  This little kit, Stem, had been a runt, but now he was growing strong, even if he was behind his littermates in size.

"Stem."

Wheat and Stem both looked up to see that Shrew had returned.

"Your mother wants you back to the nursery."  Shrew continued.

"Aww."  Stem mewed, disappointed.  "Can't I stay here for the night?  I'll be good."  He blinked, his kit-blue eyes wide and round.

Wheat looked between Stem and Shrew, then mimicked Stem's pitiful, begging expression, flattening his ears, pointing his whiskers down, and rounding his eyes.

Seeing Wheat, Shrew let out an exasperated sigh, and opened his mouth, clearly about to refuse, but another voice spoke up.

"Let him stay, Shrew.  I can't bear to see those two looking so pitiful."  The rough voice of Raven, a once black tom gone grey with age sounded nearby.

Shrew dipped his head respectfully to the elder and settled himself once more beside Wheat, giving in.  He grabbed Stem with a paw and dragged him closer.  Stem stretched out his neck to take one more large bite of fish as he was being dragged away.  Wheat smiled at the sight, and took a bite of the fish for himself, then another.  Eventually, all that was left was bone.  As per routine, he grabbed a wad of moss from his nest and covered the bones of the fish so no cat would get poked in their sleep.  It was only polite to wait to clean up until morning, to avoid stepping on some cat's tail as they slept.

"I'll see if I can find anything fun to do in the morning to make up for not being able to make the trip."  Shrew whispered to Wheat.

Wheat looked over, noticing that Stem had already fallen asleep.  "It's really okay."  He mewed.  "The storm isn't your fault or anything."

Shrew shrugged.  "I still feel bad.  I remember how much of a big deal it felt like to me when I was preparing to go to my final camp."

"Yeah, but you had Flake to wait for."

The grey tom nodded.  "You are not wrong."  There was amusement to his voice.  "But it's still exciting either way, is it not?"

"No, it is, I just get a bit nervous around new cats."  Wheat admitted.

"I noticed, but that's why we do this.  So cats get to know cats from other camps, grow friendships, and, well, you've heard all this before."  Shrew rested his tail over Wheat's back in a comforting gesture.  "North camp cats are pretty friendly, and probably the most like us.  Their territory is more open, like ours, but they don't live underground like East Camp-  Trust me, I got claustrophobic in their tunnels, too.  They have separate dens, though, and they don't eat fish, but you won't feel so closed in like in the other camps."

Wheat nodded then stretched out his head to rest it on his paws.  He still felt unsure, but he at least had a while longer to prepare.