Tourmalinekit crouched claws digging into the damp sand as the dawn's early rays filtered over the horizon. The clearing was desolate but for a single seagull, perched stop a tittering heap of stones. It was preening, running its long beak through monotone feathers. She'd always liked birds, they were better than cats in many ways, they didn't wish her dead for one, and they were oh so beautiful. Mal often wished she was a bird, freed by feathers carried by wings, her very own song guiding her way. They had prettier names too, ones that didn't wrap themselves around your tongue as you tried to speak them, their syllables getting lost along the way until you could barely remember where you started. Tour-mal-line-kit But birds, they had short names, crow, owl, hawk, sparrow, sweet like honey. Mal took a tentative step towards the seagull, its head was tucked behind one wing as it continued its work. Each cat was like a bird, in their own way, so loud, so demanding, and so desperate to fly. She would be a crow. Outcast and shunned, left picking scraps, with a voice almost as hated as her reputation. But with marvelous onyx feathers, turning sapphire blue in the sunlight. Another step forward, her paw pads sinking into the silt, her tail held just above the ground. The seagull did not stop its labor. Bellflowercrown, would be a hawk, deadly, beautiful, feared and revered, the bane of UrchinClan. The bird was silhouetted against the rising sun, finally it lifted its head, crimson eyes meeting her own mismatched pair. Threnodykit, would be a wren, aggressive, territorial, yet with the most melodic song in the forest, a silver tongued songbird. The seagull called once, a piercing shriek, before lifting its wings and flapping into the sky, Mal pounced hoping to catch the bird mid-flight, her claws barely brushing its tail before it was gone. She longed to steal its wings, but knew she had no chance at her own flight, a grounded crow in a den of eagles, had little chance to survive.
