//.not.while.I'm.around;; {Sharp/Open}

[Đarκsong]

Wiltedflower was trying to discreetly enter camp. She hoped no one would spot the kit she had in tow; Sharp. She had found him in the forest, and she couldn't bear to leave him. Still, the fear of Patchstar's reaction weighed heavily on her.

"Wait here." The queen instructed Sharp softly before slipping into the medicine cat's den.

She knew her herbs well, since she spent a good chunk of her life ill or injured. Thus, the absence of the medicine cat didn't phase her much. She grabbed what she needed, and padded back out.

"Eat these, it will ease the pain." Wiltedflower said, nosing a leaf with a few poppy seeds on it to Sharp. She was constantly glancing around camp, seeing if anyone was noticing. So far, no one.

[.&&. Snowsong.]

Obeying obediently, as if the she-cat was his birth mother, Sharp settled down within a minuscule bush, hoping to conceal himself and make any other passerby's believe that they were hallucinating. Thankfully, he didn't have to wait as long as he had thought.

Wiltedflower returned only a moment after, with a few seeds. He sniffed at them when she placed them in front of him, and he slightly flicked his lobes as he hesitated. But, trusting his new guardian, he soon dipped his apex and licked a few into his mouth, which, as the she-cat had said, eased the pain of the damage. "Thanks."

After finishing, his jowls somewhat gaped in a minuscule yawn. Glancing into the she-cat's eyes, he flicked his tail tip somewhat. He wondered how he would fit it and not stand out much.

[Twigtail]

Beetlewing was always considerably happier in the season of newleaf than leafbare. In leafbare, there was almost nothing to distract him from his constant paranoia. He reasonably was buying into conspiracy theories of late, seeing as Patchstar was behaving so erratically. Now, though, everything little that Beetlewing loved to look at and study in his rather un-catlike way was coming back to life after a season of death and depression. At current, he was following one of his little dears as it scuttled out of the dens.

He’d followed the spider from the rear of the warriors’ den. It scuttled over the grainy sand, pausing every so often as if it sensed the thing that followed it. The blue-gray tom scuttled straight after the arachnid, his large body almost pressed against the earth, his ears flattened in a pretense of keeping low. His owlish eyes were pinned wide as he followed the spider’s movements from darkness to light, taking little mental notes on its behavior. Beetlewing had already decided that this must be one of those spiders that went hunting for their prey; he had realized recently that there were two types of spiders, hunters and trap-setters.

Just then, as he had come to this conclusion about the little brown scurrier, the arachnid veered off its original course and began running with some strange appearance of purpose towards the medicine cat den. Beetlewing, who had near-silently followed the little creature for so long, paused. He wanted to resist the temptation to enter this den. He absolutely loved plants, not quite as much as insects, but enough to stare wistfully at the tidy little piles of herbs kept in the medicine cavern. Of course, it did not do for a warrior to sit mooning over lost possibilities. So he crouched several tail-lengths from the entrance, wondering what to do, as his spider disappeared.

The thing was, when that which he followed disappeared into shadow, another something detached itself from the same shadow. Trying not to start in surprise, Beetlewing pressed himself against the cliff wall, watching the feline figure with wide eyes. He recognized the uneven gait as belonging to Wiltedflower, the crippled queen. His ears, which had been flat, suddenly flicked up in interest. If ever there was a cat he’d try to really talk to, it would be this permanently injured tabby. He never tried to approach her, though. And he didn’t now.

The big warrior just watched as the tabby left the medicine den, and it wasn’t until she disappeared that he wondered about precisely what she had been doing in there. Was she injured? Perhaps he, Beetlewing, could be of some use to his Clan-mate! His big paws scuffled quietly against the sand as he followed the queen up to a bush. Why there? the tom wondered. Why not the nursery? But it wasn’t his place to pry. He paused, wondering whether or not to proceed.

[Đarκsong]

Wiltedflower had also brought out some dock leaves, thus she began chewing them and applying them to Sharp's various wounds. She made sure to keep the lapping of her tongue gentle on the kit. Every few licks she glanced up to see if anyone was watching.

One of the times she glanced up, she found her gaze matched with the large orbs of Beetlewing. The tabby queen froze in place. Then, she relaxed because it was only Beetlewing. The tom seemed to keep to himself most of the time, and probably wouldn't rat her out anyway.

[.&&. Snowsong.]

The gentle rasps from the tongue of his guardian soothed him, allowing him to release the tension from his muscles and allow his entire figure to relax. A minuscule sigh escaped his lips as he lied down, resting his apex upon his paws and closing his eyes to allow the strokes to calm his being.

Another scent, a faint and faraway one, drifted into his nostrils, and his lobes somewhat twitched, noting that he knew that someone else besides his guardian was there. But, he minded not. Though he was concerned about it, he didn't allow himself to get worked up over it.

As the herbs began to affect him, Sharp shifted for a moment, getting into a comfortable position to rest. "Do I have to go to another spot to sleep, or can I sleep here?" he said, blinking his optics open to peer out from the bushes above him. He felt so tiny, compared to Wiltedflower, as well as the Camp, but he didn't allow that to drag his hopes down.

[Twigtail]

Hearing an unfamiliar voice, Beetlewing scuttled back a few steps, the fur along his spine prickling with his usual nervous overcaution. Who was that? But he reminded himself, after a moment of fretting, that he didn’t really know most cats in the Clan at all. It shouldn’t be such a big surprise that he didn’t instantly recognize somebody’s voice. But this somebody… what were they doing in a bush? Were they injured? Worry persisted in the large blue-gray warrior’s mind, but it had shifted its focus from the unknown to the wounded. He knew that Wiltedflower had seen him there; it must be okay for him to hang around.

Moving with very deliberate slowness, the gawky warrior scuttled closer to the bush and the queen who was hanging around it. A soft mew escaped from his muzzle to let her know that he was coming closer. He didn’t want to surprise anybody, goodness, no! He just wanted to come a little closer, get a look at this stranger who was apparently hiding in the depths of the foliage. Beeltewing crept a little closer, crouched so his belly skimmed the sandy earth, and his gaze settled on a piteous scrap of a kitten, all beaten and torn.

Beetlewing’s eyes were too large, pulled too tightly open, for him to widen them any more. The most he could do was have his big golden eyes pop a bit out of his head. This really was a stranger! Or, well, if it wasn’t, it was an injured kit, which was alarming enough! His ears flattened again as the warrior glanced at the crippled queen, hardly realizing his jaw was gaping. But his open jaws let the heady aromas of herbage enter, and he realized the kit was being treated for its multiple injuries. The adult tom’s big eyes shifted from one cat to another, and even as he realized he wasn’t going to be useful here, he still spluttered, “Wha…? What happened?”

[Đarκsong]

"No, you won't sleep here. You can sleep in the nursery with me later." Wiltedflower told him softly. She continue to treat his wounds, constantly nervous about Beetlewing's, or any cat for that matter, approach.

She jumped a bit when the blue-grey tom came closer and gaped at her and Sharp. The queen stuttered on her words as well, "Um....I....he...you see he....." Shaking her head, she gathered her thoughts, "I found him injured out in the forest....please don't tell Patchstar." The last bit was muttered lower, so as not to alarm Sharp.

[.&&. Snowsong.]

The larger tom had appeared, causing the poor kit's heartbeat rate to jolt to an extremely swift speed. Was the tom going to do anything to harm him? After all, those bulging, owlish orbs were wide open, as if glaring menacingly at him as the larger tom gaped. It frightened him, to an extent.

The other side of him said that the tom was harmless, only concerned about him. And, when the older tom questioned the she-cat, it seemed that this side was proven the dominant, mostly correct side.

But, having been through life's obstacles and betrayers, Sharp didn't trust the older tom. He slipped closer to Wiltedflower, almost pressing against her right front leg as his gold-rimmed emeralds stared at the new arrival. "Wh-- Who are you..?"

Despite the fact that his guardian seemed to feel -- well, not threatened -- about the older tom, he didn't trust the gray male. His lobes somewhat pinned against his skull, but he showed no hostility; only fear.

[Twigtail]

The two cats he was confronting looked just about as scared as Beetlewing himself; at the very least, the kit did. The large warrior’s bugging eyes flicked from Wiltedflower to the kitten, then back to the queen. The tabby was concerned about a tattle-tale? Ha… that was a laugh. As if Patchstar wasn’t the biggest, most prominent character in Beetlewing’s nightmares. “I won’t tell Patchstar,” the warrior promised quickly, but immediately as he said it, he felt the weight of secrecy lower onto his high, stooping shoulders. It wasn’t as if Beetlewing told any cat anything, but he’d never known something… and had the inability to tell any cat. He’d never been part of anything as sneaky as a secret before.

The blue-gray tomcat’s eyes shifted back to the piteous scrap of kitten that was staring up at him with wide eyes. He could be brave and keep a secret for this kitten, couldn’t he? This poor shivery thing that, with its fearful demeanor, reminded Beetlewing vaguely of himself. At the kitten’s question, the warrior started again with a nervous little hop. Hey, he hadn’t expected the little one to start talking. “I’m Buh…” In his rush to answer, and his preoccupation, the warrior half-forgot what his name was. He paused for a moment, and his title flashed back. “Beetlewing.” Yes, that was it. Quite suddenly, the older tom was feeling even more nervous and bashful than usual; it didn’t matter that the stranger was a kitten. Seeing the bigger male’s success with cats he knew, it was no small wonder he got shy with the little one.

“But…” Peeling his amber eyes away from the kit, the warrior preoccupied himself with Wiltedflower, and the scope of the situation. “How are you gonna hide the kit from Patchstar?” he wondered. The queen must have some idea, because she couldn’t just bring a new cat into the Clan without anybody noticing. Somebody in the nursery would see the tiny tomcat, or some other kitten was going to go blabbering, and somehow it would get to the capricious IvoryClan leader. Beetlewing shuddered to think what the pudgy tom would do when he found yet another stranger in their midst. The black-and-white tom wasn’t known for kindness to foreigners. But surely Wiltedflower knew this already, and had some brilliant idea on how to do this. Beetlewing just wanted to know what was going on, and shuffled his paws uncomfortably on the ground, still aware of the kit’s eyes on him.

[Đarκsong]

Wiltedflower was relieved that Beetlewing would keep the secret. She licked Sharp's pelt reassuringly, as almost to say Beetlewing will not harm you. At the mention of a plan, the queen said, "Well, I figured that Patchstar is so detached these days that he wouldn't notice unless someone told him the kit isn't mine."

It was true, the chubby leader spent most of his time in his den. He often forgot the names of cats he had know for moons. It wouldn't be too surprising for him to forget about a kit, "You know, I did have a litter a few moons ago...." It made Wiltedflower quite sad to think about it, but it was perfectly timed with the age of Sharp, "...I could just say all of my kits didn't die. Patchstar would never know that."

"The hardest part will be keeping the rest of the clan from ratting us out." She added. Well, probably so long as she got the other queens and kits on her side she'd be fine.

[.&&. Snowsong.]

His lobes pricked up and his eyes brightened somewhat. Sharp still felt threatened by Beetlewing, but not that much anymore. A faint smile began to play upon his lips again, and his orbs began to scan the area, forgetting the petrifying feeling he felt before. It was all awe-inspiring.

Then her overheard Wiltedflower mentioning how her plan to keep him would be foiled. "I'll try to make sure they won't tell! Well. They don't mind little kits, right? If I become good friends with them really fast, they might not want to rat you out." His lobes slightly pinned down, embarrassed at how ridiculous he could have sounded. "I just hope nobody hates me when they first see me."

He glanced at the larger, older tom. Seeing that the tom wasn't threatening them, and willing to keep a secret for them, seemed to comfort Sharp somewhat. He could trust at least one cat around here, which brought his confidence up of being able to truly trust the others of the Clan.

[Twigtail]

”Oh… okay,” Beetlewing mumbled in reply to the queen’s plan. It did make sense, come to think of it; Patchstar probably didn’t even know half the warriors he commanded, Beetlewing included. No, a kitten should be fine. But Wiltedflower, and the kit with her, were right about the other thing, too. The other cats would possibly be problematic, but there wasn’t really anything anybody could do about that, was there? They’d just have to leave their hopes with StarClan that nobody would say anything.

When the kitten spoke, Beetlewing’s owlish eyes unwillingly returned to the little creature. Then, and he couldn’t help it, he felt a ripple of sympathy go wavering through his heart, making his chest ache for the tiny tom. What if the other cats did hate this poor, pathetic kitten? Cats could be cruel, spiteful creatures, Beetlewing knew, and capricious to boot. Again, it was another thing that they would have to leave up to fate and faith. Feeling like he should say something to the kitten, though, the warrior mewed, “If it means anything,” --which it probably didn’t, now that the older tom thought about it-- “I don’t hate you.” It sounded stupid and weak, though, even to the speaker’s ears, so he ducked his head and turned to plod away.

He had only taken a few paces away from the pair when, flicking his head back, Beetlewing stammered, “Good luck, though.” With an embarrassed flattening of his ears, the big warrior quickly turned and loped away, back into the belly of the camp. Standing there, he looked around for a moment. He didn’t see his spider anyplace, but he did see a dwindling fresh-kill pile. Striding quickly, the big tom made his way out of camp for some hunting: the only thing he was really any good for at all.

[Đarκsong]

Wiltedflower smiled for a moment at Beetlewing as he walked away. At least that was one decent cat in the clan. She supposed Sharp should rest, so she told him, "Come on, we'll go to the nursery and rest." The queen then began leading him there, sure to have him walk beside her to stay hidden.

She was sure the nursery would be alright. The only cat in there was Rainclaw since a bunch of kits became apprentices recently. It would be a lot easier to convince one cat than a nursery full. Wiltedflower decided she would then slowly talk with the other members of the clan, much as she didn't like to.

"By the way," She whispered as they walked, "You'll be called Sharpkit now."

((ooc: End after next post, that ok?))

[.&&. Snowsong.]

[[ Sure, I don't mind. ]]

A smile brightened the little kit's facial features as the larger, older tom spoke. "Thanks." It was somewhat humorous to watch the tom get embarrassed and slip off to the forest.

Then, Sharp glanced at Wiltedflower as Beetlewing's tail was engulfed by shadows and undergrowth. His lobes pricked up as she spoke. After she finished and he had listened carefully, intently, he got to his paws and bounded silently, stealthily, after her.

As they neared a den, he scented the air. It seemed to have the scent of milk lurking about it, and he felt quite comfortable as he saw the protection the den had. So, this was the nursery. A decent, comfortable place indeed, it seemed.

When they continued to walk toward it, his ears somewhat flicked. The queen was speaking again, and he listened carefully again. "Sharpkit?" he asked in a murmur after she finished. He gave the name a nod of acceptance.