Cricketsun’s Task

*🎶 They say he likes a good time. He comes alive at midnight; my momma doesn't trust him🎶*

## Prologue

The midnight dew swept across the valley, shaking the small ferns in the area with a vigorous writhe and twist. A slunken haze drifted, fatigue springing around every corner to be. Figures glowed in the moonlight, each of their silky heads dotted with cashmere stars, wrinkling as they watched the faded cream moon rise up towards the heavens, shining its pale light shimmer onto the faces that dare watch it’s slight feministic beauty unravel. The silence was broken with hushed mourners voices, scatting at one another with bitten tones in each cat’s healthy desire. Crickets hummed noisily, irritates at the other noises that disturbed their own.

In the greedy voiced air rang a deep bellowing yowl that set every once chattering utter to a silence. A deep glossy colored pale cat lunged with a swift grace up to the rocks that pointed much like teeth. Their eyes glowed yellow, dim in the light with a pale eerie solemn tone to them. Every breath was held, gaze holding stiffly onto the figure. With a rash of her voice, the feline sat up, showing the much more distinct features of feminism, relating to the silky voice of the cat as they spoke,

“And with this conclusion, we beg upon our ancestors of Starclan to look forth upon this tumultuous night as we grieve. The solidified purpose of this mourning is for our former leader, Kittiwakestar. This leader was brave, wise, and over all else, compassionate for his clan. Kittiwakestar always shielded us in battle and here...” her voice progressively got louder, “Here we mourn. The loss of our leader is much to bear, having been with many of us since our youth years. Unfortunately it is with great displeasure that he could have passed away on this very night. For in only eight moons time, Beeblaze has prophesied that a leader of high would come forth and lead us to the sacred grounds.”

The chattering began to arouse for a moment as they talked about Beeblaze’s supposed prophesy. The speaker silenced them once again with a lash of her tail.

“I, Russetface, will be astonished to take Kittiwakestar’s place as leader. This is quite a task to uphold and I have some pretty big paws to fill. Things will not be the same around here without Kittiwakestar but I promise to take you all under my golden wings to protect us.”

With a dip of Russetface’s skull, the crowd gave a mixture of cheers with a few murmurs of disapproval. Russetface wasn’t the deputy of Jabberjayclan seeing as the deputy had been killed only a few days before and Kittiwakestar had been unable to find a suitable replacement. Russetface’s face burned with ambition as she left to join the crowd of regulars.

Some gave her cheerful waves as she passed towards the leader’s den; others gave her scowls or downcast glares. Russetface cast aside the gloomers, a smirk residing on her face shortly after she passed out of sight from the cats.

One cat, however, did not attend. This cat was named Cadaverscale, a queen residing in the nursery at the time. Kittiwakestar was her mate; Cadaverscale couldn’t bear to look at the solemn faces and petty wishes. She stayed curled in the edge of her den in solitude.

## 1 - Fresh Air

*🎶 Sang off-key in my chorus ‘cause it wasn't yours. I saw the signs and I ignored it 🎶*
The morning air was crisp and fresh, devious cackles of mockingbird’s ferocious song, the tweets high and soft. Cats began to rustle from their dens, making the spaces now vacant; the clearing filled with old and young, shaking their pelts with the breeze, inhaling the herbal pine scents. Conversation struck out amongst plenty of the cats, beginning to enjoy a long-awaited spring meal. The nursery was filled with plenty of young kittens as well, eagerly playing around with vigorous voices gallivanting across the nursery floor.

Among the noise and haste of felines sat a kitten, quite younger than the rest of them; they were only three moons, barely knowing how to waddle around without falling and could hardly use his vocal cords to create words. This kit's name was Cricketkit, named after his deceased father's brother, Cricketsong. Cricketkit was an odd small kitten who - despite being a kit - was timid, shy, and had no interest in playing with the other older kits.

He was an only child, awkward for his age as many of the other kits came in sets of two's or three's.

## 3 - Midnight Haste

N/A

== 4 - Attack On Vigil ==