Little bits of writing!

OC Story!

Waxfang pads over with Gullthroat shadowing her closely. The two's tails intertwine carefully. Saltspray smiles in their general direction.

"Saltspray," Gullthroat smiles politely, "are they bothering you at all?" Saltspray grins at him.

"Of course not," she asserts quickly, nodding, "I was just wondering..." The dilute calico pauses deliberately to smile wide. "Do they want to play moss ball?"

The kits rally. They leap and jump and scramble around her in a disfigured circle. "Yes, yes!" Otterkit all but shouts. The other kits copy the words, each exclaim louder and louder.

"Sorry," Waxfang dips her head apologetically, "they're... they... they're three moon old kits, you know?" The she-cat looks positively drained, blinking sleepily.

Saltspray nods, looking to Gullthroat. "Can I be left out of dawn patrols," she asks pleadingly, "please?"

Gullthroat seemingly weighs the possibility, before flashing a small smirk. "Fine."

Beaverkit scurries out of the nursery, carrying a moss ball nearly bigger than her. Beakkit snatches it, and sets it at Saltspray's paws. His little grin is everything, so wide and joyful.

"Teams, teams!" the little tom-kit declares happily, "I should get to pick my team, since I'm the only tom." Anolekit stands, whisking her tail.

"That's no fair!" she protests, glowering at her brother, "it's not our fault you're a dim-witted tom. And plus, you have clear favorites. It should be by chance." There is a silence, and then Saltspray flicks her tail.

"I have an idea," she offers, "shell skipping." The kits turn confused gazes of Saltspray. She sighs, though underneath her surprise she has really expected this.

"Shell skipping," she repeats patiently, "is where you make a shell circle and skip around it. When I say stop, those who are on the color shell of my choosing are out." Otterkit opens her jaws to protest, but Saltspray quickly cuts her off.

"Wait," the warrior says, whisking her tail in a motion to stop, "I can't look, not even a peak. If I do, I'm out." The kit's eyes turn from confused to eager, and they scamper off to find shells around camp.

"Blue, green, orange, purple, but whoever finds a pink one is the most lucky... It holds power unrivaled by anything on this earth, in this mangrove. It is nearly impossible to find." The kits have a challenge, something to work for, and their giggles fill the air as they look everywhere for a pink shell.

Beakkit contributes a blue shell, though he ignores Saltspray's praise to run off again to find the famous pink shell. Beaverkit finds an orange shell, shining beautifully in the sun, but tosses it into the mud puddle in search of the pink shell. Though Otterkit finds another one, Saltspray is infinitely disappointed.

Green and purple are found both by Beaverkit, but the pink shell remains unfound. Saltspray waits, grinning at the spectacle the kits are making, but no kit pops up with a pink shell.

"Found it! Found it!" Vulturekit pops from the bush with the pink shell clasped in her jaw. Her little tail is curled and her eyes are wide and shining with excitement.

The other kit emerges, huffing and puffing, tails low and sweeping. Vulturekit puffs out her chest in pride, tail puffed out up in the air.

Anolekit grins however, holding another shell, a lighter more mundane shade of pink. "We both found it!"

The remaining three kits forget their sorrow, looking quizzically at Saltspray.

"How is that possible?" Saltspray gapes, eyes wide with mock-surprise, "in all my one hundred moons of living-"

"One hundred?" Anolekit's jaw is on the ground, open so wide Saltspray is sure she could swallow a grouper whole in one gulp, "But you aren't an elder!"

Saltspray catches Waxfang's eyes, which holds a look so relieved. She grins in her direction, eager to keep the string of white lies going.

"You all must listen," Saltspray settles her eyes on the kits as they scootch together, eyes wide, "When I was an apprentice, I found the pink shell. I thought it was unimportant, but took it. Every cat that gets a pink shell is rewarded with a super power. I get older without my muzzle graying or my joints getting sore. I can still perform my duties."

All the kit's eyes widen. Vulturekit jumps up, smiling widely.

"Really?" she breathes, eyes hopeful, "what will mine be?" Saltspray shrugs, still looking a bit shocked.

"Well, that's the fun of it; you never know. Could be super strength, geniusness, immortality, the ability to talk to dogs-" Every little kit wrinkles their nose, making Saltspray snort.

"But it's extremely rare. Don't worry."

Anolekit breathes a breath of relief, sitting again. Saltspray whisks her tail grandly.

"Well, on with skipping shells, then?" All five kits waggle their heads, grinning.

"No! I have to find out my powers," Vulturekit protests, shaking her head in disapproval.

"Yeah!" Anolekit joins in, lips pursed into a frown. Her cream and black tail flicks back and forth almost challengingly. Saltspray is determined to steer the game back to the original plan, however.

"Well, is there a better way to find out?" Saltspray questions, casting a silence over the gaggle, "I mean, maybe you can read minds. You can see if I'll pick blue or pink or green. What a fine way to find out!" The kit's eyes, Saltspray is sure, will pop straight out of their skulls.

"Starclan, you're right!" Beakkit chirps excitedly, "I'll put the shells up!"

With that, the kits race to set up the new game as Saltspray watches, grinning.