Robinkit squirmed a little. She could feel branches sticking into her limbs, and soft feathers surrounding her, like an army ready to protect their queen. She sighed. Eyes not yet opened, curiosity burned in her mind at what the outside world looked like.
She often had visitors. All new voices, rough and soft, but nevertheless, just voices. She could almost picture her mother, though. A kit always had a special connection with their mother. Was it worth the comfort of darkness to see her?

Two moons had passed. Cats were beginning to get worried that Robinkit would never adjust to the clan life, as she had not yet even opened her eyes. How could she learn in time?

One night, Robinkit dreamed.
She was running, fast. It was a race. She was the quickest kit in the nursery. Way faster than Silverkit, Songkit and Littlekit, despite the difference in age.
As she crossed the finish line, Robinkit yowled in delight. She turned around to taunt the other kits. But when she turned, they were gone. Robinkit shrugged and carried on walking.
Eventually that walking turned into running once more. She enjoyed the feel of the wind against her whiskers. She could easily have been mistaken for a Moorclan kit. She closed her eyes, breathing in the sweet scent of lavender.

Then she realised she was no longer touching grass. Eyes wide open, Robinkit realised she was desperately flailing in the air. The world was spinning around her as she realised she had run off of the edge of a cliff.