Darkkit growled, mashing up wet leaves in his paws. He was frustrated. Unhappy. A snarl escaped from his mouth. “Give those back.” Darkkit darted his eyes to the voice. It was Looncall, the grumpy old medicine cat. “Make me.” Darkkit said. Looncall looked at Darkkit and blinked. A hiss began to tease at his mouth. “Fine.” Looncall snatched the herbs from the kit. They were smashed up, mixed with dirt, and torn apart. To put it bluntly, ruined. “Where did you get these?” Looncall asked, his squint gripping and his tone frigid. Darkkit hesitated for a moment. “I-I found them in your den.” “When were you in my den?” “I got stung by a bee.” Looncall hissed. “You certainly live up to your name, Darkkit. Stay out of my den. I don’t want to see you around me anymore.” Looncall padded out of the nursery, sneaking judgeful glances at Darkkit. Darkkit sighed. He was bullied so much just because of his name. He was tired of it. He was so, so tired of it.. “Are you okay?” A gentle voice echoed. It was Crescentkit. “Yeah! I’m GREAT!” He said, his tail between his legs and tears forming at his eyes. “Then why are you crying?” Crescentkit asked gently. Was he crying? No, he’s strong. He didn’t cry. “I’m. Not. Crying.” He said, storming out of the nursery. Crescentkit was left standing in the nursery, staring after her brother.
I know that it’s Loonface, but Looncall seemed to work better in my story. First: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1029534759 Next: In Progress Ping list: @Hayden_J_Black_ @_Spottedshine_ @Bipples-
