to the rush of day (brightkit)

[sammykins]

Fog and mist were tricksome tempstresses. Elusive and fickle, never hanging about for long, yet just long enough to leave one under the illusion that all was well. Perhaps not safe, for fog was eerie and easily lost, but well and well-hidden.

Until the sun rose, that was.

Not that it made much of a difference to the tom unveiled with the dawn and the grey, early morning light. He had learnt long ago that the mist, regardless of where it hung in valley and crater, was a two-pronged ally. Darkness was his constant, twilight his comrade at arms on the long stretches of territory patrol, dusk his shield mate in battle. As a kit, he had been difficult to spot in the night. Now, many, many years on, he was nigh on invisible in the hours before the sun rose, and it had served him many a time.

When the mistress that was fog was heavy, though, he had to be extra vigilant. Not so much for the monsters that might lurk amidst it, but for the betrayal it could so easily wreak upon him should he be careless. An idle flick of the tail, a muscle twitched in overreaction, and the fog would swirl and shift and give him away before he could so much as utter a yowl in consternation.

Large paws crushed underfoot leaves that had long fallen from the forest canopy as they carried the dark knight's sturdy body from undergrowth to branch. The smell released by the decimated foliage was pungent, though not unpleasant, and Darklight's greying muzzle twitched, whiskers shivering with both the movements of his breathing and the motions of his body. Up, up, across and down, two branches across and a leap that stretched stiff, tired muscles with a pop that was only slightly less satisfying then the stretch the tom indulged in when he reached his destination.

The small outcrop in question was nothing of particular consequence. It was high but not too high (a kit of considerable age could clamber aboard it, if they knew of it's location), brushed by the local flora but not choked, and above all, it afforded just the right view so he could look upon his home of nigh on thirty-four moons. Thirty-four, and it showed in the slight greying of his muzzle, the silveriness that almost but not quite blended with the intriguing slapdash of white over nose and upper lip.

Darklight yawned, the sound ending in the sort of sigh only the weary and released from duty could utter. Needle-sharp teeth, slightly yellowed with age, glinted dully in the dreary dawn sunlight, and he shuffled about, large paws kneading with a sort of tired restlessness at the dirt underpaw. The sunlight was not yet at it's pinacle of warmth, but at this height, it was just enough for the stone to be pleasantly lukewarm rather than horridly icy. And if there was one thing Darklight prized above all else after the long, long hours of work, it was the symbolic restfulness that was sunlight. Lazing, lazing, in the sunlight.

So come the days where I may do nothing but. His thoughts were wry even as he thought them. To do nothing but indeed, now there was a miracle in and of itself. Not so much for the fact that there was any true danger - for now - but for the absolute reality in that it was unlikely that he would ever be capable of doing such a thing so exclusively. No, a warrior to the end was the dark tom, and die on his paws in battle was likely to be the only outcome.

Another yawn, and small pebbles of dirt crumbled under the weight of the tom cat as he lay on his side. Legs stretched out and yet arched just so, tail curled just enough to twitch. And face, always, always watchful, raised and turned towards the wild beyond that stretched the boundaries of their territory and past it, eyes barely open even as the older tom appeared to doze.

[whiteangel28]

Mist was indeed the fickle mistress that her father spoke of, a simple twitch or twirl of the tail giving away any known location of a cat, having a dark hide was also not the best way to hide yourself away in the white fog. Belly low to the floor, the kit kept icy blue eyes locked on the form of her father as he wandered his way into camp after the dawn patrol, finding himself on an outcrop and laying down to feign sleep even as he kept a silent vigilant watch over the camp. After a moment or two she nearly lost him in the still fading darkness, the mist covering the dark shape fully, but with the hide so dark she was able to keep a glimpse of him as she crawled ever forward on her belly.

But what her father would say was true, mist was a two-prolonged ally, and though most of her fur was white, the fire that blazed through her pelt had a bad habit of giving her away if she wasn’t careful. With a roll of her shoulders, she moved faster, her paw steps dancing in a practiced pattern as she came up behind the cropping, jumping silent landing instinctively away from things that could make noise, an old trick she had come to love in her seasons in StormClan. With one final bound she was at the top, springing forward on the unsuspecting old tom, twisting her body to land on his back her aim to jump off, before confusion twisted her face. Old trick? Seasons? What?

She was a kit and one that had barely been alive for simply newleaf, barely ready to become an apprentice! She felt as though…

With her mind crashing around her the skill that had been flooded into her body fled, the instincts not enough to allow an unpracticed kit to continue her twist, to land as perfectly as she would have should she have remained in her serene state of mind. Giving a yowl of surprise, the tiny kit slid to the side next to the elder tom, mewling in surprise and pain as she landed badly on her paws and slid over the edge slightly, scrabbling to find a hold to pull herself back up on the outcropping before she fell further and earned herself a trip to the medicine cat.

“Daddy, daddy help!” she meowed, paw reaching out for another grab at solid ground and instead snagging on her father’s tail. She had been warned about this before, not to do something she wasn’t ready for, but could she help it if she wanted to finally catch her father by surprise? With her goals firmly in mind, confusion wiping over them before they’re completed, it’s safe to say that the little kit has visited the medicine cat more than she cared to mention.

“DADDY!” she yowled, hoping her father wouldn’t take this opportune moment to teach her yet another lesson and have her dig herself out of her own mess, like he has the tendency to do. It wasn’t her fault Frostkit dared her to go find a fox cub!