Ana-Kitsune
Sage In the Making
Who: Foxkit, Brookpaw
Where: In front of the Queen's Den
invaderspotty
Summing up all the dignity he contained in his tiny frame Foxkit glared at the other cat angrily. The apprentice Brookpaw had for some reason taken to bullying the kit. It was the duty of the apprentices to bring food to the queens, and by association, their kits. Since they were old enough to eat solids the kittens in Foxkit's litter would share a piece of freshkill or two between them. Brookpaw had turned that into a game. Today he presented the runt a cricket.
The red-pelted cat began cleaning his paws, ignoring the cricket and apprentice both. He had learned that was the worst he could do to Brookpaw. This time the large gray cat would not let the level-headed kitten escape. "What's wrong Foxdung, not hungry?" He sneered, flicking the dead cricket into his face. "Why don't you eat up, you don't want to be a runt forever do you?" The cat was practically purring as several nearby cats turned to see what the commotion was. Their gazes ranged from indifferent to amusement.
Foxkit quietly finished cleaning his paw and set it down, finally looking up at the gray tom. "Brookpaw, thank you for your concern. But..." He reached down and gave the cricket a curious sniff as though he had just seen it. "It seems to me you've only managed to catch an old cricket." He gave the apprentice a sad smile. "Thank you anyways. You tried your very best I'm sure." his tone was honey-sweet. "Well, I wish you better luck tomorrow, maybe you'll even catch a young cricket." With that he rose and turned his back to the sputtering young cat, attempting to retreat to the queens den.
For a moment there was only silence. Until an angry yowl echoed through the camp and Foxkit had only a seconds warning before he was beneath a raging ball of fur. The cat was trying to get a grip of his neck and from his position Foxkit could only struggle weakly. All of his cool indifference melted away as he fought desperately against the larger cat, turning his body so his feet could push against his opponents belly, he kicked madly, claws out, but his claws were so small they only seemed to catch Brookpaw's fur. Clumps of thick gray fur flew in the air and stuck between the red-haired cat's claws.
The larger cat had gripped Foxkit's ear when suddenly another clan-member joined in on the fray, pulling Brookpaw away. Several more cats came forward, ending the fight. Foxkit's ear was bleeding as he hunched on the ground, hair on end and breathing heavily. Just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
Where: In front of the Queen's Den
invaderspotty
Summing up all the dignity he contained in his tiny frame Foxkit glared at the other cat angrily. The apprentice Brookpaw had for some reason taken to bullying the kit. It was the duty of the apprentices to bring food to the queens, and by association, their kits. Since they were old enough to eat solids the kittens in Foxkit's litter would share a piece of freshkill or two between them. Brookpaw had turned that into a game. Today he presented the runt a cricket.
The red-pelted cat began cleaning his paws, ignoring the cricket and apprentice both. He had learned that was the worst he could do to Brookpaw. This time the large gray cat would not let the level-headed kitten escape. "What's wrong Foxdung, not hungry?" He sneered, flicking the dead cricket into his face. "Why don't you eat up, you don't want to be a runt forever do you?" The cat was practically purring as several nearby cats turned to see what the commotion was. Their gazes ranged from indifferent to amusement.
Foxkit quietly finished cleaning his paw and set it down, finally looking up at the gray tom. "Brookpaw, thank you for your concern. But..." He reached down and gave the cricket a curious sniff as though he had just seen it. "It seems to me you've only managed to catch an old cricket." He gave the apprentice a sad smile. "Thank you anyways. You tried your very best I'm sure." his tone was honey-sweet. "Well, I wish you better luck tomorrow, maybe you'll even catch a young cricket." With that he rose and turned his back to the sputtering young cat, attempting to retreat to the queens den.
For a moment there was only silence. Until an angry yowl echoed through the camp and Foxkit had only a seconds warning before he was beneath a raging ball of fur. The cat was trying to get a grip of his neck and from his position Foxkit could only struggle weakly. All of his cool indifference melted away as he fought desperately against the larger cat, turning his body so his feet could push against his opponents belly, he kicked madly, claws out, but his claws were so small they only seemed to catch Brookpaw's fur. Clumps of thick gray fur flew in the air and stuck between the red-haired cat's claws.
The larger cat had gripped Foxkit's ear when suddenly another clan-member joined in on the fray, pulling Brookpaw away. Several more cats came forward, ending the fight. Foxkit's ear was bleeding as he hunched on the ground, hair on end and breathing heavily. Just as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
