Sheerkit, a former RiverClan cat who kept her name, even though she's about six moons.
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Sheerkit sat back on her haunches. She needed to find something to eat, but she didn't feel like it. She sighed, flicking her tail, sending up a spray of powdery snow. Somehow, it reminded her of how she'd played with Nutkit in the nursery, but now, she was alone. Nutkit was gone, her mother lied, and everybody else was dead. Well, probably not Sapphirekit, though she supposed he'd be called Sapphirepaw now.
The loner dropped back on to all four paws, waving her tail across the snow for several moments longer, then she stood up and paced in front of her den, deep in thought. She was bored, and the smokey gray molly needed to talk to someone. It'd been awhile since she'd talked to anyone, and she was a bit too social to go so long without being around somebody.
The she-cat paused, then stepped forwards, her ears pricked. She thought she heard something, and curiosity gleamed in her hues, though it could easily be mistaken for a mischievous look. She slowed her pace, looking over her shoulder, now nervous. It could be a trap.... She thought, lowering her head and beginning to curl her lips back in the beginnings of a snarl.
“Mouse-brain! Now you could be ambushed!” Sheerkit hissed to herself crossly, lashing her tail, then looking around for whatever it was, even though she didn't know if there even was anything there, or if it was dangerous. She looked around, trying to look bigger and braver, and not like a target.