Queen's Delight!!! |open

She giggled, shaking her head gently. “Don’t worry! I understand, it’s… frustrating, and maybe kind of heartbreaking,” Rookbriar answered with ease. “It might not be easy to get direct answers from cats, but I doubt it’s a subject that gets dropped for very long. Tell you what, later, I’ll go out for some fresh kill for the seven of us - you, the kits, and me - and I’ll keep my ears ready in case I overhear someone talking about it. If I do get any information, I’ll come back to you with it. No one will bat an eye at me, and then you and I can work on this whole thing together.”

Maybe the proposition was dramatic and possibly eccentric, but that was the sort of cat Rookbriar had always been. She wondered how much she’d be able to get away with as casual conversation before it became suspicious or strange for her to ask about. After all, as a queen, she was spending most of her time in the nursery with her kits. She was feeling left out of the Clan’s daily activities, surely they would understand that.

Rookbriar giggled, enjoying both the imagery of the proud cloud that was Amaris, and at the idea of the nursery being a gossip hotspot. She enjoyed the idea, both for moral reasons and because it would give them something to do in the lulls of queenhood. “Maybe part of your warrior name should be cloud,” she mused, “though I’m not sure if it would be part of your prefix or suffix.” Her ears twitched, reflecting on the audible growl of the other queen’s stomach.

“Have you tried freshkill? I heard kittypets are fed some sort of bland pebbles,” she wrinkled her nose at the thought, and tried to imagine what the best prey to start her off on in terms of taste was. Should it be strong to emphasize the difference? Though, maybe it would be better to start with something more plain, so she wasn’t overwhelmed. Was Amaris accustomed to fish scent? Would birds or rodents be better suited to this first taste of the forest? Her head spun with the questions she asked herself as she slowly wiggled her way free from the sweet cuddles of her kits.

She ducked her head in brief embarrassment before opting to laugh it out. “Oh! Sorry about that! I’ll be right back, it’ll be like a surprise.” Rookbriar trotted off, exiting the nursery with some hesitation as she glanced about the camp before approaching the freshkill pile. As a queen, she needn’t wait on anyone before eating, but she felt strange all the same throughout both moons of her pregnancy and the moon since her kits had been born. Now that they were slowly starting to eat the prey themselves, she only felt stranger.

It didn’t bother her much now, though, knowing she was picking up prey for an expecting queen and her own kits. The camp was void of gossip at the moment, likely stunned into silence over the newcomer, so once Rookbriar was content with her choices, she quickly returned to the nursery. Gently, she settled down a few options before Amaris. “Okay! We have hare, sparrow, mouse, and trout! Pick whatever you’d like to try first, it’s all fresh,” she purred, settling herself down back amongst her kits. She’d coax them into their meals once they were awake.

She watched Amaris’s taste-testing, resulting in a laughing purr as Amaris found a love for trout. “I’m glad you found something you really enjoy! In the future I’ll try to bring you types of fish, then,” she chirped, setting aside the mouse for her kits - feathers were perhaps too advanced for them to get through at this point in their lives. She quickly took a few bites of the sparrow, setting aside the prettier feathers. “If we get the chance, I’d love to take you out to show you how to fish! I have a hard time being patient enough for it, but it can be pretty calming once you get into it.”

She took a pause from sorting pretty feathers, ears held at attention as Amaris spoke. “Oh! So you already know a bit about fishing?,” she asked, surprise capturing her like a plunge in the river. “I can’t imagine those fish making a very good meal, besides maybe for the trout! Don’t worry, we’ve got bigger fish to hunt here.” With a few quick gulps, she finished her sparrow and continued to sort the feathers by how pretty she felt they were. Only the smoothest, softest, and prettiest feathers were saved in a small pile whilst she unceremoniously discarded of the others.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think kittypets knew how to hunt. Did you ever go after anything besides the tiny fish?”

Rookbriar wrinkled her nose, her ears flattening. “That’s awful!,” she exclaimed, as if it might not be obvious to others. “At least in Clan life, we take care of our Clanmates. We’re taught to take care of ourselves but more importantly, to be able to provide for the Clan.” She extended a paw and pushed the remains of Amaris’s finished meal towards the entrance of the nursery. She’d go bury it later. For now, she was simply trying to wrap her mind around the life of a kittypet - the mind of a twoleg was so much more complicated.

“Why stick around for so long if they already let you roam at your leisure? At that rate you could’ve formed your own Clan where the twolegs live - even the dogs could!” The idea amused her vaguely of a dog Clan - horrifying were they to cross paths - but the injustice of it all dominated her mind, her ears flicking in disapproval.