since mulchkit can't close her demon-possessed eyes, cat-mother doefang devises a clever solution featuring leaves and moss!! thus mulchkit's leaf sleep mask
first mulchkit monday of 2026 huzzah!
as always check meowt @mulchkit-archive for all mulchcontent and see below for context abt my beloved demonkitten
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For all of half a second I pondered the concept of Warrior Cats jayvik twitter RP accounts and then I couldn't stop laughing because the idea is so absurd. Never going to happen but if it did it would probably just be like this.
BTW I'd like to clarify once more that this Dmitri is a genuinely kind fellow who Jayce just hates because he's insecure lol
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Snowstreak trots cheerfully along the eastern border, following the path of the bounding river. Ice is crusted, sharp and silvery, along each bank; but thin enough the water still runs clear, in its deepest parts.
The day is bitterly cold, but Snowstreak hardly feels the chillâ it is such a pleasure just to run, and feel her muscles moving smoothly underneath her pelt.
She pauses, where the river bends around a jutting rock, and rubs her cheeks against the stone, huffing with pleasure at the renewed Sedgeclan-Scent she leaves behind. Ours, she thinks, and her purr comes out a steam, in that awful cold.
Butâ it isnât just Sedgeclan sheâs smelling.
Snowstreakâs pelt prickles, uneasy. Cats, for certain. And no one that sheâs met before. Her leg twinges; shaky, suddenly, and weak, though the injury has long since healed.
She could run, now- she should run- but if there really are rogues, trespassing on the territoryâŚ
Snowstreak takes a breath, cold air catching in her throat. âIs someone there?â
Her voice hangs there, a solitary thing in the wide, white spread of the tundra.
And thenâ a mewling, high and plaintive; and the very distinctive sound of one cat hushing another.
âIf someone is there, I donât want to fight!â Snowstreak starts forward again, heart still racing . âBut I can! Iâm a Sedgeclan warrior- I mean, a warrior of Sedgeclan- andââ she trails off, not certain how to finish the sentence. She wouldnât have known what that meant- a warrior- before Coniferstar.
Anyway, whoever it is doesnât answer; even the mewling has gone quiet. But the smell of strange cats is stronger, now, and Snowstreak follows it, her tail quivering. A warrior of Sedgeclanâ and that means she has to defend it.
âPlease,â comes the answer, soft, and stops Snowstreak mid-stride. âI donât want a fight, either. Justâ donât come any closer.â
The days are short, and very dim, this time of year; the sun, never very high, sends long, dragging shadows out across the tundra, like the marks left by some massive claw. Snowstreak squints into one of these, her eyes straining against the snow-blue shade.
âOh,â she says. A scrap of ginger furâ and ten bright eyes, shining back at her from the dark. âThere are kits with you.â
The strange she-cat does not respond.
Snowstreak sits, and wraps her tail around her paws. Coniferstar had said something, about this. Some Warrior thing, once.
âI guess,â she says, âyou donât have any reason to believe me? Butâ if those are kits with you, thenâ I really promise I wonât fight you. Itâs myâ uh, duty, to protect them.â
âYour duty?â The stranger says; a molly, with a young, uncertain voice.
Snowstreak nods. She can see, now, as her eyes adjust, a young, ginger molly, and four kits tucked behind her; big enough to be eating whole prey, their eyes fixed on her wide and curious.
âIâm a warrior,â she says, again. âWeâre supposed to protect all kits. Andâ elders, too, I think. But there arenât any here.â
âOh.â The stranger studies her, a moment. âWellâ we can protect ourselves. I can protect them.â
âBut you must be hungry? Hang onââ Snowstreak half-turns, and then looks back. âI mean, wait there. Iâll be right back.â
She dashes off, and returns a moment later with some prey sheâd caught, and stashed, earlier that day; a little ground-squirrel, still fat despite the season.
The molly, to her relief, is still there, when she returns.
The kits start to squabble, again, at the smell of blood; even the mollyâs eyes gleam, as Snowstreak jogs back into view.
âHere.â She drops the squirrel on the ground between them, and paces back a step, to give them space. âIt must be hard, hunting for that many kits. You can have this.â
There is a pause; the molly watches her, fear warring with a naked, open want.
âOh,â one of her kittens says, his voice high and piping. âCanât we, mama? Canât we please?â
Snowstreak nods encouragement; takes another step away, not wanting to crowd them.
After a moment, the molly shuts her eyes. âAlright,â she says, âof course. Thank youâ go eat.â
The four kittens scramble up, at once, and dash towards the squirrel. They must be a few moons old, already, lanky with their growthspurtsâ but thin, where their fluffy, kittish pelts are starting to give way to adult fur. She can see their hips, and shoulderblades, bones too-stark as they bend to share their meal.
âThereâs more prey back at our camp,â Snowstreak says, looking at their mother. âWe donât always have enoughâ but everyone always gets a share. Andâ theyâd eat first. Every day. Thatâs the rule.â
âThe rule,â the stranger echoes. Her muscles are bunched up, visibly, beneath her pelt; ready to spring to her kittens' side, at a momentâs notice. But she hasnât yet. Surely that was an alright sign? âYou said you were⌠a warrior? I donât understand.â
âI didnât either,â Snowstreak says. âAt first. Coniferstar- he leads us- he explained it all. Itâs⌠cats living together. By a code. We look after one another. Weââ
She doesnât want to mention starclan, yet; the spirits of the dead, the prophecy that had led their leader to this place. To her. To save her life. She knows how it'll sound.
But there is want, shining in the strangerâs eyes. She swallows, and looks down at her kittens eatingâ with none of the usual kittish squabbling. Only a silent, ravenous focusâ Snowstreak wonders when theyâd eaten last.
She says, âI know it sounds strange. It did to us, too. Butâ Coniferstar says, the⌠it sounds better when he talks about it. But thatâ hardship. Um, the tundra. Because itâs hardâ it makes us strong. He saysâ after every frost, a thaw. Andâ thatâs what⌠we are. I think. The thaw.â
âThe thaw,â the stranger says, and looks up to meet Snowstreakâs eyes. âAnd you believe that?â
Snowstreak holds the mollyâs gaze. âI do. He saved my lifeâ my mate and I. Justâ let us show you. You can go, if you donât like it. But I really think itâsâ I think itâs something special.â
The kits have taken the squirrel mostly to pieces; quick as owls, at their meal, barely even chewing. One of them- a bright, white-spotted ginger- drops a last, red scrap at his motherâs paws. âYou should eat too, mama,â he says, and Snowstreak sees the hunger in the mollyâs eyes, as well; sees the rippling of her spine, as she bends her head to snap up the piece of prey.
âThank you, Mure.â She eats more slowly than her kits; as if trying to stretch the meagre mouthful out. To make it last. When sheâs finished, she licks the blood fastidiously from around her mouth; not leaving a single drop.
And then she looks up, to meet Snowstreakâs eyes.
And says, at last, âalright.â
Loner Wormturn joins the clan with her kits.
Wormturn- Female - 39 moons
Former Loner
Loyal
Keen Eye
au where thornclaw became mates with sorreltail instead! Timberkit was born instead of seedpaw and molepaw. He doesnt die at all, so his name would be Timbertail!