Goslingkit
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Hell, why not.
This was the thought that was whirling around in Goslingkit's mind as she stepped foot into the RiverClan medicine cat's den, upper lip curling as she darted brief glances around the corners of the shaft. Her second visit, this was. She didn't want to be here, as a matter-of-fact - so what if she had tossed Twigkit into that boulder? Stupid weakling should never had complied to take part in the little spar: he could have just said 'no,' and maybe the tortoiseshell would have changed her mind. Heh. His fault for agreeing to it, the clutz. Licking her chops with a yawn, Goslingkit took a quiet seat over in one of the den's further corners, orange eyes like a pair of bloodmoons in the gloom. "Hey, freak," she laughed gruffly, words directed toward Twigkit. "How's that paw coming along, eh?"