#brownmouse

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

He make a big stretchy!

@wills-woodland-warriors

--

Saw this base and had to use it

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Dark Forest Resident: Brownmouse

Aliases / Nicknames: Brownie

Gender: tom

Sexuality: pansexual

Family: unknown mother, Redback (father), Moontail, Pebbleface (sisters), Daisyspark (brother), Brightsplash, Scarheart, Fernrun (nephews), Bristlespots (niece), Mistpaw (grandson)

Other Relations: unnamed mentor

Clan: Wolfsfootclan

Rank: messenger

Characteristics: cold, good speaker, addicted to eating plants

Number of Victims: 4

Number of Murders: 4

Murder Method: amanita mushrooms (indirectly, accidently)

Known Victims: Heronkit, Greenkit, Brownkit, Sleekkit

Victim Profile: friends, kits he babysits

Cause of Death: venomous snake bite, seizures, kidney failure, heart failure, overdose  

Cautionary Tale: N/A

Story:

Brownmouse was always the baby of his family, but that never brought him much attention.

Mistpaw died almost a year before he was born, with Brightsplash dying shortly after from a heart attack, at only fifteen moons old. The family was devastated by these losses, and turned all their attention to Bristlekit.

Bristlekit, his niece, was only sixteen moons older than him. By the time he was born she was all that seemed to matter to his family.

Sweet Bristlespots caught extra prey, she fought off a rogue on her own, blah blah blah.

So Brownpaw distanced himself, and found out that he really liked eating plants. He enjoyed the taste and texture, and the sound as they blew in the wind.

Brownpaw might not have been a skilled warrior like his niece, but he became the fastest cat in his Clan, often sent out on scouting missions or to send messages.

He became the first messenger in his Clan, but even that didn’t take away from Bristlespot’s attention. It barely made a change.

One night, after Brownpaw had strained his paw, he was left to watch after the kits while the rest of the Clan was at the gathering. It turned out he was really good with them, and he began to spend time with them for fun.

He taught them what plants to eat, and what plants weren’t safe. But when you tell a kit not to do something, it only made them want to do it more.

While he was digging up some edible mushrooms, the kits made a plan and walked off to find something to eat.

Brownmouse turned around to find the kits, and panic set into his chest as he looked for them. Calling out desperately, he finally found them with the stems hanging out of their mouths and mushroom bits around their paws.

They ate some amanita mushrooms, and Brownmouse breathed out a sigh of relief before lecturing them.

See, he had eaten these mushrooms before. And aside from a sore stomach and minor vomiting, he was fine.

So he assumed they would be fine, and he brought them back to camp after a long talk with them about not listening to him.

Later that night, Brownmouse woke up to the medicine cat, Paleslip, demanding him to come to the medicine den.

He followed, confused and dazed from sleep, and what he saw would haunt him for a long time.

Heronkit lay in the moss, convulsions passing through her small body, her mouth frothing as her eyes rolled back in her head.

Brownmouse turned around, tears spilling from his eyes, as he begged Paleslip to save them. She shook her head, saying it was too late, and let him sit beside Heronkit until the end, which came shortly after.

She led him to the back room of the den, and Brownmouse’s heart dropped.  

Sleekkit lay in a coma and Brownkit apparently went into a hallucinogenic episode before her heart failed.

Greenkit had to be given deathberries after he asphyxiated.

Paleslip said she brought him in to say goodbye to his friends, but Brownmouse took this as a punishment.

He had killed kits, his friends! He ran out of the medicine den, and outside the den he saw Weaselhail, Greenkit’s mother, sobbing into her mate’s fur.

She turned to him with cold eyes, and before he could open his mouth to say anything she snapped at him that he’d killed her baby, that he was a monster. That it should have been him, and that if she saw him again, she’d slit his throat.

Brownmouse’s paws carried him out of camp and blindly through the forest. He screamed and screamed until his throat was hoarse, and he dug his claws into the ground until they bled.

he spotted a clump of mushrooms growing beside a damp tree stump. The same kind as the kits had eaten.

He pulled them up from the ground, eating them even as he vomited and grew dizzy. His chest burned and he ran through the forest, the branches snagging and peeling at his pelt as thorns dug into his skin.

It was too late to stop when he saw the snake, its fangs piercing his throat. His body felt numb and tingly, hallucinations and seizures passing through him.

Additional Information:

--Submission by @wills-woodland-warriors​

--He’s a daylight messenger, and he spends most of his nights in twolegplace with his twolegs

--Ref by Turukhan

--His Kittypet name is Brownie!

--Do you think he belongs in the Dark Forest?

--Brownmouse and Fleathistle used to both be in love with eachother when they were apprentices. They would sneak out to meet eachother and talk at gatherings, but after Hornetleg assaulted Fleapaw they both grew apart because Fleapaw began to isolate himself, but Brownmouse never stopped loving him.

[wills-woodland-warriors]

Fools Puddles | short story part three (final) 

FleaThistle woke up with half his body soaked and, the mud falling off of him in clumps. His body stung and ached, and he had a jolt of panic as he remembered. 

“RaspberryKit?” He called out, paws scrambling in the think water to stand up. 

“Papa!” The cry was cut off by a ‘shh’ sound, and FleaThistle’s looked up at the top of the pit where his kit was. 

HornetLeg was sitting behind him, his paw on the small kits tail. Scratches ran down RaspberryKit’s tiny body, his eyes blown wide in fear. 

“What are you doing here,” FleaThistle glared at his former mentor, trying to keep his voice steady. 

“Don’t you want to spend time with me?” At FleaThistle’s snarl, he shook his head and continued, “Tsk. I thought since you took my kit, id take yours.” 

Panic and anger ran through FleaThistle, and his claws were unsheathed in the water. He couldn’t get up the pit in time to reach HornetLeg before he hurt RaspberryKit. 

GremlinFrost had gone for help, and from the sound of bubbling puddles they couldn’t be that far from them. Someone would find them. 

“You left TawnyKit in a pit, she nearly drowned!”

“Mistakes happen,” HornetLeg groomed his ear, not a care in the world for the shaking kitten at his paws. 

“Mistakes? She’s your daughter. She’s three moons old, for stars sake. She couldn’t even swim,” he shook his head, baffled at the toms words. 

He rolled his eyes, digging his claws into the kits tail until he heard a yelp. 

FleaThistle bit his tongue, his whole body tense and ready to leap up at any point. He shifted, and was reminded of the injured leg that was tainting the water red. 

“Why are you doing this?” FleaThistle shook his head, voice more resigned. He couldn’t make HornetLeg mad. 

“Because you took everything from me. My reputation, my life, my kit,” HornetLeg hissed, eyes narrowed and cold. 

FleaThistle felt lightheaded, and planted his paws in the mud so he didn’t sway. “Are you kidding me. Are you kidding me,” he laughed awkwardly, strained. 

HornetLeg simply stared at him hatefully. 

“You hurt me so many times, you beat me regularly, you ruined my life and friendships. You made the clan hate me, and for what? So you could have an apprentice you didn’t have to train?” 

HornetLeg opened his mouth, but FleaThistle continued on. 

“So that you couldn’t have any responsibilities. You ruined my life, and you ruined TawnyKit’s as well. And I found a family, I found peace here. Now you want to hurt my kit?” 

He could hear his heart beat, and his blood felt hot as he stood up to his mentor for the first time. 

RaspberryKit blinked between the two, his ears pinned down and nose twitching in anxiety. His bottom lip was swollen, as if it had been scratched. 

FleaThistle heard paw steps, and voices carried away by the wind. HornetLeg heard them as well, stepping off of the kits tail and backing away as he gave a low and long hiss. 

FleaThistle couldn’t see what he was so afraid of, but he heard pawsteps and then FadingStar was leaping into the pit, splashing water everywhere as he slammed into him. 

“You’re okay!” He breathed a sigh of relief, burying his head in FleaThistle’s shoulder. His breath was warm against his skin, a stark contrast to his cold fur. 

FleaThistle smiled, licking his mates cheek. 

At the top of the pit, BrownMouse was grooming RaspberryKit and whispering gently to him. He nudged the kit, turning him away from the fighting behind him. 

FleaThistle heard hissing and spitting, and yowls as claws were raked through skin. He heard MyrtleWing and AlderStar arguing over who should kill him, and JackDaw snapping at them both to “stop their fox snouted whines” before he killed them both. 

FadingStar finally released him as the cries stopped, and stepped back as AlderStar appeared at the ledge, his golden-yellow legs stained with blood. 

FadingStar supported FleaThistle, pushing him up carefully so that he didn’t hurt his leg. AlderStar pulled him up by the scruff. 

RaspberryKit ran to his feet, asking if he was okay. He reassured him, licking at the messy fur. 

He was a little banged up, mostly with small scratches that would heal in a couple days. 

Lightheaded, FleaThistle sent small thanks to LilyDawn under his breath.  

Beside them, out of the kits view, he could see a glimpse of a mangled body, and of JackDaw stepping away from it, blood dripping from his muzzle. 

As he stepped back, a light weight draped across his shoulders as JackDawFoot pressed against his side, head resting on FleaThistle’s back, the fluff obscuring his vision in a half-hug. 

“I’m glad you’re okay,” the tom said quietly, barely above a whisper. 

“Thanks, dad,” FleaThistle swayed on his feet, exhaustion setting in as he leaned against his family. 

His eyes drifted closed, blinking slowly as he watched RaspberryKit attempt to stand on BrownMouse’s head. 

______ 

I’m exhausted so I have no clue if this is even coherent but there’s a squirrel in my wall screaming at my cat for the past several hours and I tried lol 

BrownMouse, FleaThistle, LilyDawn and HornetLeg belong to myself. 

RaspberryKit  is co-owed by myself and the lovely @liberhoe, who owns FadingStar 

JackDawFoot, AlderStar and MyrtleWing belong to @residents-of-the-darkforest 

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

@wills-woodland-warriors what do Prancekit and Minnowkit look like, and what are their genders?

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Brownmouse: Hey Webster, can I ask you a question?

Webstripe, not looking up at him: What it it?

Brownmouse: What were the names of your best friends growing up?

Webstripe, still not looking up at him: Oh, Thrushfire and Antstorm! Man those guys were the best, we had so many fun times toge- wait, why are you asking?

Brownmouse, who is very obviously and heavily pregnant: Just got curious is all :3

@wills-woodland-warriors

AWW

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Grousemane kits! (With Brownmouse surrogate)

Since males are almost always a copy of the mom / trans father, there’s probably only one tom in this litter (being the brown one).

Meet Starlingkit, Buzzardkit, Aspenkit, and Dustkit! Though I’m not sure yet who is who. @starfalcon555 what do you think?

——

ref by cryptidclaws

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

@wills-woodland-warriors have you considered BrownMouse x NightStar? Both are pretty himbos

So much kind heart, so much dumb ass

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Kit Badger Rides (short story)

“No, Starlingkit, this way! Buzzardkit, you can sit down later!” Grousemane couldn’t decide if he wanted to huff in annoyance or laugh in amusement. The kits were still young, and now that they were able to sort of walk, they were eager to get around and explore.

Aspenkit, the only one that had stuck with her father, made a chirping sound, glaring at her littermates, who, at her noise, scurried back over to their father’s tail. “Thank you, little one.”

They were on their way to meet Brownmouse for possibly the first time. Brownmouse had nursed them, then passed them to the poly once they were weaned. Grousemane wondered if they would remember him at all, or the older kits that were, shortly, raised alongside them. He was thankful that Brownmouse hadn't made his den too far, making it easier and safer to navigate the four small ones.

When he found the den, he called into it, and a moment later, Brownmouse emerged. His eyes lit up when he saw the kits. Starlingkit scurried behind Grousemane. Aspenkit sniffed his paw cautiously, while Duskkit hissed. Buzzardkit didn’t seem to notice him, instead watching as a brown leaf fell from a nearby tree.

“They’re so grown!” Brownmouse gushed, lowering himself onto his belly. “What did you name them?” 

They hadn’t received their names until after they were weaned. Grousemane had wanted the whole poly, especially Myrtlewing, together when that time came. “Buzzardkit for the one that looks like me, Starlingkit after scaredy mouse–after my littermates, Duskkit for the angry one, and Aspenkit for their sister–after Myrtlewing’s littermates.”

“Wow!” Brownmouse watched them as though his eyes could see nothing else, following their movements. When Aspenkit moved closer, he began to wave his tail in the air, and squealing, she leaped after it playfully. “Who would have taken Myrtlewing as the sentimental one?”

“Hootpetal’s idea.”

“There you go,” Brownmouse rolled his eyes affectionately. 

The kits grew comfortable quickly after sniffing Brownmouse’s pelt. Clearly, they didn’t remember him–they were probably still too young to remember this moment one day either–but by his scent, they knew that he was familiar, and that meant that he was safe.

“Are they here?” A kit’s voice, older than his own, asked. A moment later, a head popped out of the den entrance, joined by his brother, who’s own head pressed his against the den wall to make room, squishing his littermate. 

“Kits!” The second cat, Minnowkit, exclaimed, pushing past Prancekit and rushing eagerly to the kits, who either hissed or scampered beneath Grousemane’s belly.

Minnowkit frowned. “But they know me!”

Prancekit padded forward more slowly. “When they were like a moon old!”

“They should still know me,” Minnowkit stated righteously. “I was with them all of the time!”

Brownmouse nudged him playfully. “Why don’t you create another memory to help them remember?”

At Minnowkit’s look of confusion, he added, “they’re just big enough for badger rides now.”

“Yes!” Minnowkit pressed his belly to the dry, grassy floor. “On my back!”

The kits only blinked.

“Like this,” Prancekit told them, lowering himself as well. “Climb on, and we can run around! Don’t you want to play?” 

“Play!” Starlingkit squealed happily, scurrying to clamber on top of Prancekit’s back, who carefully raised up and began to stomp around. He was cautious and moving leisurely, the kit still too small for the faster rides.

“I said it first!” Minnowkit complained.

“Shh,” his father told him. “They’re interested now, see?”

Aspenkit and Buzzardkit were watching Prancekit and Starlingkit with wide, curious eyes that they then turned on Minnowkit. Minnowkit eagerly returned onto his belly, and Aspenkit and Buzzardkit wobbled over hastily, pushing for a spot on. “You can both fit,” Minnowkit reassured them. He couldn’t move around as fast as Prancekit with the added weight, but that was just as fine. The steadier, the better, especially with two of them.

“Don’t you want to play, Duskkit?” Grousemane asked his son, the only one that was not currently enjoying a badger ride. When Duskkit looked at him, Grousemane frowned. The kit’s lip was protruding in a pout, and wobbling. “We can make space for you, you can play.”

Duskkit only shook his head, sitting with his head ducked. “Ah, okay, I got it.”

“What’s wrong?” Brownmouse asked, searching the kit’s pelt. 

“Just missing home, I think,” Grousemane explained. “They’ve never been so far before, not when they remember.” He nuzzled Duskkit’s head. “Do you want to go home to mommy and daddies?” 

Duskkit nodded vigorously. 

“Okay. Playing can stop for now.”

“What?” Minnowkit huffed from nearby. “But we just started!”

“It doesn’t necessarily have to stop just yet,” Brownmouse suggested. “I’m sure the kits wouldn’t mind a ride back home, after all they’re legs are so tiny.”

“Yes!” Prancekit and Minnowkit cheered. Grousemane noted that this would be their first time being at the Eye-out Thorns. He hoped Myrtlewing didn’t frighten them too much.

“Do you want a ride, or carry?” he asked Duskkit. 

“Carry! Carry!” Duskkit practically shouted. Obliging, Grousemane picked him up by the scruff. 

“It was great seeing them again,” Brownmouse said with a smile. “I’m sure they will grow into wonderful cats.”

Grousemane felt as though he were glowing, so full of love for the four. “Yours too,” he replied, then led the way across the grass.

==================================

@wills-woodland-warriors