𝓜𝔂 𝓑𝓪𝓫𝔂. || A Warriors Story

𝐹𝑜𝓊𝓇.

A moon had passed, and in that time, Sweetmurmur's heart had been filled time and time again with the joy of watching Houndkit and Peonykit grow. She loved them endlessly, cherishing every moment they spent together. Houndkit's boundless energy and Peonykit's quieter demeanor became more pronounced as the days went by. It wasn't long before Sweetmurmur noticed Houndkit's increasingly rough play and how Peonykit seemed to avoid him more and more, preferring the company of the elders. However, each time she noticed, she pushed the concerns down, brushing them off as typical sibling dynamics.
     One bright morning, the sun casting a warm glow over the camp, Sweetmurmur woke to the familiar sounds of her kits. Houndkit was already bouncing around the nursery, his energy seemingly limitless,
     "Mama! Peony! Let's play warriors!" he called, his voice loud and exuberant. Peonykit, who had been quietly grooming herself in the corner, looked up but didn't move,
     "Maybe later, Houndkit," she said softly. "I'm going to visit the elders first." Sweetmurmur, who was just waking up, stretched and yawned,
     "Alright, Peonykit, but don't forget to come back soon," she said gently. "And Houndkit, try not to tire yourself out too much before your sister gets back." Houndkit barely acknowledged his mother's words, too busy pouncing on an imaginary enemy. Sweetmurmur watched as Peonykit slipped out of the nursery, her movements graceful and deliberate. A small pang of worry tugged at Sweetmurmur's heart, but she quickly dismissed it. They were just different, she told herself. Peonykit enjoyed the calm and wisdom of the elders, while Houndkit thrived on action and adventure. She would allow Peonykit the youth she wanted and would entertain her son.
     As the day progressed, Sweetmurmur found herself busy with the duties of the nursery, but her mind always wandered to her kits. It wasn't until later in the afternoon, when she saw Houndkit playing too roughly with his sister, that her worry resurfaced. He was wrestling with a her, and while it was clear he wasn't trying to hurt anyone, his strength and enthusiasm were overwhelming. Peonykit went from giggling and playing back to squeaking in discomfort and snapping at him for biting too hard,
     "Houndkit, be gentle!" Sweetmurmur called out, her voice firm but loving. Houndkit looked up, slightly puzzled, but nodded. He eased up on his play, but Sweetmurmur could see the confusion in his eyes. She sighed, wishing she could find the right way to help him understand. That evening, as the camp settled down, Peonykit and Houndkit returned to their nest, tired but fufilled look on their faces,
     "Peonykit, did you have a good time with the elders?" Sweetmurmur asked, nuzzling her daughter affectionately. Peonykit nodded, her green eyes shining,
"Yes, Mama. Brambletail told me a story about when he was a young warrior. It was so exciting!" She glanced at Houndkit, who was watching her with a mix of envy and curiosity. "I could tell you about it if you want," she offered. Houndkit's face lit up,
"Really? That would be cool!" he said, his earlier restlessness fading. He sat down eagerly, his blue eyes fixed on his sister. As Peonykit began to recount the tale, Sweetmurmur felt a wave of relief. For now, at least, they were together and happy. She knew she needed to address Houndkit's roughness and Peonykit's avoidance, but tonight, she chose to enjoy the moment. She settled down beside her kits, listening to the story and watching their interactions closely.