a moment of relaxation [open]

[hester]

in kestra's hectic schedule as a nanny for the next generation of her tribe, moments of relaxation and silence were precious and rare, and were always after sunset. now, the sun was only a red stain on the horizon. surprisingly, today the kits had gone to sleep quietly and without much complaint. usually, at least one kit woke up each night with a nightmare. in fact, kestra expected many nightmares in the coming months. many of the kits had never been through a winter. the chilliness of the air and the wind scared them, as they had only known the warm breezes of the summer months. kestra knew the pattern well - when the snow came, some became almost hysterical with fear, fear they would quickly overcome, and other adventurous ones found it a new, fun way to play. she wasn't sure which one she preferred. all kinds of kits presented troubles. however, kestra reminded herself, right now was not the time to think about kits. yes, her whole life was caring for kits. but she had to have at least a moment to herself.

approaching the flower field, the white she-cat paused for a moment, staring at it. it wasn't a sight that surprised her too much - she had enough experience to know the effects of winter on a landscape - but it always managed to shock her just a little bit. usually, the flower field was a beautiful place, the colors so bright and harmonious, prey wandering around, dizzy in the sunny paradise (prey she could never catch, with the amount of training she had). often she brought the kits out here to play. very like the prey, they enjoyed frolicking about the area, enjoying the sights and smells, chasing after butterflies and birds and anything that crossed their path. often the curious little furballs got stung by bees and kestra would be forced to bring them back to camp and discipline them, telling them that they should have been more careful. really, the nanny found these curious kits (the ones that didn't whine, anyway) a little cute. she normally found kits pathetic, after having dealt with them her whole life, but she admired their curiosity. it reminded her of herself, when she was a kit. those were the good days, believing that she could escape the tribe and start her own life. though the tribe oppressed her and treated her like dirt, it was still the only way she could survive. now, faced with this dry field, kestra laid down, resting her head on her paws.

[zephyros]

footsteps pounded against the ground and the tom they belonged to, flicked his tail and let out a yawn. the life being a leader of the tribe was all fun and games most of the time, but the other moments it was just so dull and...boring. he had no power, not really, since most of it lay in the paws of the elders who 'advised' him and in the gods above that he was supposedly suppose to even represent. hell, half the time even those priests and priestesses have more power than him. that's why he took punishing those that went against the rules so seriously - it was the only interesting thing that he rally had sole power over. sure the elders and priests can give him their input, but in the end, it was all up to him.

and sometimes he felt that the punishments were still too good. the females that went against the tribe's ways and tried to have freedom for themselves? the ones that wanted to hunt and fight? the tom wrinkled his nose in utter disgust at the thought. why should they get their nice sleek, beautiful coats messed up with the fowls of the world outside the camp and with the stains of blood? why should the mothers of the tribe's kits be out there in the constant battlefield along with the fathers? who would protect the kits if both the mother and father are dying?

it just made no sense to him and he detested the way valentine had started putting that mindset out there. but he knew why vulcanrin out him in this position to begin with: zephyros was the only tom strong enough in the tribe to adhere to the rules that had governed their tribe since the beginning. the aggressors might be out there mad at them and thinking nothing but pompous asses, but they had a system that worked - that made sense. males were meant to give the seed and then fight to protect the seedling. the females nurtured and grew the tree from the roots, guiding it and trimming the branches when needed.

why was that so bad?

the tom's gaze looked ahead of him and he saw a shape out in the field of flowers and as he approached, he recognized the form as that of a she-cat amongst his tribe and he grinned, checked himself overt to make sure he was looking his best, and approached her. "what are you doing so far from the camp, and so alone?" the tom flickered his tail, his gaze sweeping the world around him, as if looking for any sign of the tom that was meant to be chaperoning her around outside the tribe. but his voice stayed calm and charming, with only a slight threat underneath. he was leader and he could easily force her to head back to the camp right there. but...why ruin such a nice day?