Bluefur's Choice

Kithood

"Mosskit, stop harassing your brother," Bluefur scolded, lashing her tail.

"He started it!"

"Did not!"

"He did too!"

"No, I didn't!" Stonekit objected.

Bluefur made her voice as stern as she could. "Stop fighting, both of you."

"But he started it!" Mosskit turned to her mother. "He swatted me first!"

"No I didn-"

"Keep arguing and you won't get to see Runningkit's and Mousekit's apprentice ceremony," Bluefur growled, and with that there was silence.

Bluefur thought that she was finally going to get a little peace and quiet when Mistykit suddenly pounced on top of Stonekit from out of nowhere, squashing him. The young tom let out a wail. Bluefur rounded on Mistykit, fixing her with a stern glare. "I was just playing," Mistykit protested. "It's not my fault he didn't move!"

Bluefur sighed. Her kits were certainly a pawful. In the moons that followed Thistleclaw's appointment as Clan deputy, life went on. Since leaf-bare had released its cruel grip on the forest, her kits had grown, although they still weren't as big as normal three moon old kits should be. Bluefur shoved back a pang of guilt. Although it wasn't her fault she hadn't been able to produce enough milk, those prey-poor moons in her kits' early life had made them small, and now that prey was running again, they still hadn't quite reached the size they should have been for their age. Featherwhisker reassured her that in another moon or two they would catch up to where they should be.

They were starting to develop their own individual personalities- as much as kits could, anyway. Stonekit was the serious one, Mistykit was perceptive, and Mosskit could be timid at times and a rambunctious troublemaker at others.

Bluefur often wondered if Oakheart was thinking of them. She hadn't been to a Gathering since the night she had told Oakheart she would bring their kits to him. Does he understand why I didn't come? She thought of him waiting alone, among the snow swept stones of Sunningrocks, for the kits he would never see.

Soon she heard the sound of Sunstar's voice calling the summons for the meeting. Herding her kits to a good spot in the clearing, Bluefur settled herself next to Whitestorm. Thrushpelt soon joined them, and the kits let out excited squeaks when the sandy brown tom arrived.

"Thrushpelt!" With a squeal Mosskit leaped onto Thrushpelt's back, which earned her a severe look from Bluefur.

"Not now, Mosskit," Thrushpelt chided her lightly. "The ceremony is about to start."

"Oh, right." Mosskit scrambled off his back and settled herself next to him, sitting up as straight as she could. Bluefur's whiskers twitched as she shared an amused glance with Thrushpelt.

The camp grew silent as Runningkit and Mousekit padded up to the Highrock, followed closely by their mother, White-eye, who sat down beside them.

"Cats of ThunderClan," Sunstar called. "It is time for White-eye's kits receive their apprentice names. Come forward, you two."

"Look, it's Runningkit!" Mosskit exclaimed as the brown tom was called up first.

Stonekit piped up, his high pitched mew echoing throughout the camp. "I wonder what his apprentice name will be." Bluefur directed a quietening hiss at her kits as the Clan mrrowed in amusement.

She could still hear Mistykit's much softer mew to her littermates. "Runningpaw, I bet."

The kits fidgeted throughout the ceremony, and afterward they crowded around Thrushpelt. Meeting Bluefur's gaze with a mischievous glow in his eyes, Thrushpelt let out a mock growl and fluffed out his pelt.