Swiftkit's POV

I dash around the camp dens, gasping, as the group chases me, yowling insults. They never gave up on chasing me and hurting me more than claws ever could.

"Runt!" shouts one kit, the leader of the group. "Reject!"

I feel claws swipe close to my tail and push faster, racing around warriors. They don't bother to help me. They never do. They just sit and watch, laughing.

The leader, who is a dark brown tabby with amber eyes, pounces and lands heavily on top of me. I let out a yowl of pain as my paw is twisted awkwardly beneath me.

"Get off!" I yowl. "Not fair!"

"Is too," the leader, Pinekit, laughs. "After all, no one cares what happens to you, runt. You'll always be the odd one out, the third wheel." All the kits laugh.

"What is the meaning of this!" A loud hiss of anger echoes around the camp. Everyone goes silent.

A grey furred, short pelted she-cat walks out of the medicine den, glaring at everyone in her eyesight. "I asked you a question," she snaps to the group.

"S-sorry, Graywind," Pinekit stammers. "We were just helping him up. He fell. Right guys?" He looks around at his group, who nod vigorously.

"Helping him by sitting on him?" Graywind snorts. "Hah. Tell me another. Back to your mothers! All of you!"

The kits scramble to get away from the angry medicine cat. Even the warriors avert their gaze, not wanting to feel the wrath of their medicine cat.

"Come here, Swiftkit." She beckons to me with a flick of her fluffy tail. I pick myself up and limp over, wincing at the pain in my paw as I set it one the ground.

I follow Graywind into her den and she sits me down on a nest.

"What did those other kits do to you?" She asks as she rummages through her herbs.

"They chased me," I sigh. "Called me names. Knocked me down. Not that it matters."

"What names did they call you?"

I blink, surprised by the question. "Well..." I pause, not wanting to say what they said. "Welltheycalledmeruntandrejectandmousefodderandfoxheartandtoldmeiwasstupidasathunderclancat," I blurt quickly, not stopping for a breath.

Graywind stares at me. "I did not understand what you just said," she meows.

Taking a breath, I repeat it normally. "That called me runt and reject and mouse-fodder and fox-heart and told me I was stupid as a ThunderClan cat."

The medicine cat's eyes widen. "I do think I should have a talk with them," she says in a clipped, unfriendly tone. "In fact, I might as soon as I'm done treating you. Show me your paw."

I stick out my paw as she examines it.

"You just twisted it," she announces. "It should be fine. Just stay off of it for today and most of tomorrow."

I nod and try to get comfortable in my temporary nest with a sigh. Why is it so hard to fit in? I think. I mean, it's not like I'm much different than the rest of Shadowclan. I glance over to a small pool of water in the corner of the den. Maybe it's my pelt. Or my eyes. Is there something wrong with me that I'm not aware of?

I close my eyes and sigh again. My fluffy white pelt is what makes me stand out, I think. Maybe it's my eyes. I've noticed many cats look at me, no, my eyes, in disgust. I continue to think to myself.

I listen to the soft sounds of camp.

I listen to small rustle of herbs as Greywind moves around and sorts them.

I listen to the laugh of the kit gang outside.

I think about my appearance, and what it might mean.

And, as I'm falling asleep, I think about my eyes.

My vibrant blue eyes.