Skullkit felt a chilling breeze whip by, ruffling his tabby fur. He yawned, before returning to glaring at the other kits. They were outside of the nursery and the queen Droughtclaw's kits Ripplekit, Snowkit, and Pinekit were romping on the dusty ground. Those idiots, Skullkit thought as the three made utter fools of themselves. How was he even grouped in the same rank as them? Sure, he was a kit, but at least he didn't think that the fresh-kill fell from the sky.
"Skullkit, come and join us," Ripplekit called. The little gray she-kit acted as the unofficial leader of the younger kits. Skullkit thought that Ripplekit was born thinking that she was the only one who is important in the Clan. Many a time, he had witnessed the kit deliberately disobey Coldstar.
The tom shook his head, eyes revealing great scorn that went unnoticed by the subjects of his disgust. "No," he said, uttering the one-word answer with a smooth, icy voice. "I have more important things to do than that pointless game of yours."
Snowkit, always loyal to his sister and with a thorn-sharp tongue, mewed, "And what things do you have to go do? Eat mouse bile?" Ripplekit and Pinekit burst into fits of laughter. Skullkit let a growl rise to his throat, deep and rumbling which was unnatural for such a kit. He couldn't stand then with their ever stupid thoughts and jibes. The tabby pounced onto Snowkit, pinning him down roughly. He ignored the wailing and yowling of the other two, telling him to get off their brother. That fluffball was going to pay!
The silver and white tom stared at Skullkit with wide fearful eyes. "Please, don't hurt me!" he pleaded.
"Why should I?" the brown and white tabby snarled. He lifted one paw, claws unsheathed, prepared to deal a blow to the helpless kit.
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