//Un//marked

// chapter 11 //

When the snow came it did not stop. Flake after flake, storm after storm; to little Dewkit, it seemed endless. Dark masses roiled the sky while the earth below became utterly pale. Even the guards, sitting steadfastly by their posts around Tumble-Down Den became alabaster statues.

Tucked into his warm nest, Dewkit could only think about how cold Hazel and Soren had to be.

Since their arrival at the new camp, things had not changed for the better. Even a quarter moon later a thin layer of tension filled the air, so fragile the slightest misstep would tear it apart. Dewkit did his best to stay away from the irritable mentors and the equally annoyed trainees, but fear of boredom quickly got him into trouble. Already Quartz had snapped at him, and Cinderblossom berated him for getting underpaw. Even Mothpelt and Beaver, who generally welcomed the kit's presence, seemed on edge.

Today he would stay in his nest. Today he would pretend he did not exist so Condor's sharp growl would not suddenly stop him in his tracks, or Sprucetail's command would not have him skidding to a halt.

He hated being a kit. He hated being the only kit.

The trainees did not have it much better, though. With leafbare here, Bronco declared a decrease in training in order to save on freshkill. Training drained the trainees and left them tired and hungry, something the alley cats could not afford. Already, the meagre freshkill pile had disappeared – and it was only sunhigh.

Dewkit felt his stomach rumble and curled himself up tighter. The first time he saw snow he was enchanted; now, with the threat of hunger hanging over him, he didn't feel quite the same.

"Staying out of trouble?"

The kit turned his eyes from the falling snow to the dark tabby sitting in the corner of the den.

"I got tired," he explained before turning back to the storm.

"And hungry, I assume," Killian observed.

Dewkit's stomach rumbled again. Cinderblossom had gone out at dawn to see if she could catch anything, leaving her kit under the strict watch of Killian. She seemed to trust him, though many of the others did not. Besides that, he was often the only cat in camp without an assigned task.

"Cinderblossom's out there somewhere," he replied. He hoped she would be back soon.

Killian shuffled closer. "Indigo is too. And Bramblefire and Mira and Leo. Condor too, if I'm not mistaken. And Nightchaser, of course."

Dewkit nodded. No one had seen Nightchaser for days.

"Want a bite?" The dark tabby dropped something before the nest and the hot smell of blood hit Dewkit unexpectedly. He tore into the small mouse ravenously, only stopping when he realized there was nothing left.

"I'm sorry," he mewed, looking at the bare bones. Small scraps hung here and there, but not enough to feed a full-grown cat.

"When was the last time you ate?" Killian asked, snapping up one of the bones. It crunched loudly between his fangs.

Dewkit paused. "Two dusks ago?" There had only been enough prey the day before to feed the trainees, who had gone without the day prior. Two small mice, a shrew, and a small bird.

"We need better hunters out there," Killian commented, another bone disappearing.

"They are out there," Dewkit said quietly. The dark storm clouds above hung ominously and the tom felt as if an incredible weight were pushing down on them all.

"I'm not out there." The dark tabby twitched his whiskers.

"No, you're here watching me," the kit replied.