Strawkit hung back in the shadows, the tom glancing nervously from Duckkit to Magpiekit and wondering if he could also sidle up to the group of kits and make a place for himself. His sisters seemed absent and Magpiekit himself seemed rather calm enough that Strawkit wouldn't have to worry about being startled by sudden movements and loud noises. All the same the thought of going out into the open where his father might spot him and he would have to suffer under the indifferent gaze had him curling back further into the shadow of the rock.

Oh! Magpiekit's eyes brightened with gratitude; he was almost expecting a no, but this was a welcome change. "Thanks," he breathed a sigh of relief as he moved forward to eat, gobbling down his bites as if he was starving, only stopping to notice Strawkit in the distance. Oh? He didn't know the cat, but he knew the way he hid away as if trying to make himself disappear. He knew that feeling well enough.

Looking up, he met the tom's gaze before giving him a nervous smile. "Did you want some?" he offered. There was still enough, certainly enough for the two of them. Of course, if Wheatkit or Cornkit were awake, he'd save some for the but they wasn't here and he didn't feel all too guilty about eating his own fill first.

“OH, we’re eating?” Brat asked, bursting into the nursery. If she could’ve entered tap dancing, she would’ve. “Oh, wow, nice digs,” she commented, looking around at the cave and making herself at home among the younger kits. She would be apprenticed soon, and so she felt herself their guide of misbehaving and poor behaviour. Who else would corrupt their polished souls? “Beats ours, huh, Straw? Oh wow, you guys’ve got the DELUXE walling!” She ran her paw along the rough, jagged stone. “No dampness or nothin’, not even mould. This sells like crazy on the black market. This place is great.” At her mention of her brother, Brat trotted over to him and whisked him around into a quick little spin, ending with her cheek pressed to his and a big, genuine smile on her face, full of love. “Hey, strawman.”

Doing a quick little dance, she faux-tap danced back to the middle of the cave. “You gonna eat that?” she asked Magpiekit, getting close to his face and not giving him time to answer before she took a bite. Chewing, she wandered again around the room. “You’re the, uh — you’re the traitor’s boy, aren’t ya?” The words — traitor’s boy — were clearly her father’s. Whenever she used his language, with her guttural, peasant accent, it just sounded jarring, like a Victorian ragamuffin talking posh. “Must suck.” Reaching out, she ripped off another fistful of flesh and sat down to eat it from her paw, tilting her head at Magpiekit. In many ways, they were natural adversaries from two enemy families. In many others, they were the same. “Y’know,” she gestured at him with her clawful of flesh and laughed, “you prob’ly spend more time with our dad than we do. Isn’t that crazy?” It was unclear if she was bitter or not; her smiling eyes didn’t change, but they were slightly dark.

Magpiekit was happy to share, at least with Strawkit, who seemed pretty easy-going, rather unassuming, but Brat was...a whirlwind. He didn't know how to feel about her exactly, because on one hand, she was nice enough to defend the two of them against those annoying apprentices who just thought they were sooooo much better than everyone else of course, but then again, this cat also called him a traitor's boy, and gods, he hated that. Who was he to call him a traitor's boy?

"Hey, no one said you were allowed to eat with us," he hurrumphed, looking rather red in the face now, "and I have a name! It's Magpiekit!" He glanced to his sister, gesturing for her to come and eat, before giving Brat a glare. "I guess now I get why everyone calls you a brat," he mumbled under his breath, still looking a little miffed after being called that name.

Wheatkit rose to her paws giving a big yawn and stretch, she padded over plopping down sleepily next to her brother taking a sleepy bite of the prey, she left her fur on the side of her face sticking up not bothering to fix it. there was something, off about her lately she was calmer, less talkative, but she played it off well at the moment having just woken.