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+---- Thread: gift of the night / o, injured child (/showthread.php?tid=3930)
gift of the night / o, injured child - Chevalier. - 07-26-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 420px; font-size:10px; font-family:verdana; text-align: justify;line-height: 110%; color:black"]There is little of life one might call predicable, each strand woven into the tapestry a wonder within its own right, given to a soft light or the bitter taste of hardship. For one so young they had felt both, had felt the gentle touch of love in the caress of a mother, cupping their cheek with a soft smile upon her lips, humming so softly for them alone, and yet had seen it destroyed, their home gone in minutes before bewildederd eyes.
All too young to remember much each memory was a treasured jewel held close to their heart, small scenes played back in those moments when the quiet became cloying, choking off their air as they struggled to keep going, eyes prickling with tears. It had been warm, find sand made golden beneath the unforgiving light of the sun, broken only by the tents, temporary housing offering shade and shelter. Each had been unique, the fabric of each holding its own colour to separate them, the hum of life within each bright and joyous, barter easy for sharp tongues. About it all had been the distinct smell of spice and fruit, mingling together with that of roasting meats and bread.
It had been a small thing, nothing more than the simple life of a traveller easy to pack away when the time came for them to move on, yet it was one they longed for, home-sickness a heavy weight upon their heart.
Merely by chance, some stroke of ill-fortunate, Harland lifted their gaze from where it had settled upon the ground they tread, the hard earth so different from the fine sand, the grass tickling along their skin, a frown curling their lips. Eyes widening they could only stop their forward momentum, mouth falling open with a soft murmur of sound, unsure of how to proceed. He was larger than the child was, the teeth shown between dark lips in a wide grin all too sharp, a pale tongue – pointed and forked, why was it so like a snake's? - flicking out to run over them.
“Hello there little lamb,” his voice was liquor and smoke, smooth as it escaped upon a soft purr, a paw rising to lift their chin. They were unable to stop him, body growing strangely numb as he looked upon them with eyes that seemed so like flint, consuming any light which wandered too close, filled with something they could only think of as hunger. No warning was given before it happened, the teeth grazing along their neck until it had broken through, a savage twist of the head opening their throat.
A gasp. It was all they could manage, the ravaged skin laying open before he was upon them, the hard ground rushing up to meet them, head ringing as it struck hard. For what seemed hours he stood over them, claws toying at the skin he had ruined, simply watching the life drain, uncaring of the fact the child struggled to keep going, each breath rising in a broken sob. They were so scared, had no desire to die, paws flailing uselessly, trying to push him away, to get him off.
Oh how cruel is luck, a mistress with no care to those under her, not even a child.
“Oh come now little lamb, you're not to die here, not yet,” a soft growl, warm breath ghosting over their ear, flicking back feebly as they flinched, trying to get away. There was no use. Coppery upon their tongue, metallic and thick, coating their mouth until it was all they could focus on. “Your life is mine, lamb, don't ever forget.” There was no need to pretend any longer, the sharp tone in which he spoke biting at them, tears leaving wet tracks as finally they fell, a soft moan escaping their teeth.
They could not speak of when he left them, sprawled upon the ground with their throat laid open, the skin slow to knit itself back together again, stomach filled with the blood of their attacker, churning painfully as their body accepted the gift forced upon them.
[ this is a mess but i wanted it done. they're laying on the edge of the territory in a pool of blood, their throat is slowly healing but it will need to be tended to so it can fully heal, their attacker is long gone as well ]
Re: gift of the night / o, injured child - GABRIEL - 07-26-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Personally, Gabe believed life all too predictable, though if it made any sense, he found it so because of its many shots from left-field. Maybe he had the years of expecting the unexpected to skew his perspective; rolling with the punches had always been innate, but when life decided to toss shit at him from every direction, he considered himself a bit of a veteran dodger. Beyond that, he wouldn't compare life to a tapestry, if only because it'd be one fugly piece of work, and Gabriel couldn't see much of art in the days anymore. It wasn't the same fatigue he felt however many months ago, drained by one too many shitshows, but it was debilitating, kept him awake in ways even his ridiculous sleeping schedule couldn't.
Seemed like he was destined to always lose sleep over something, though nothing could steal his rest better than a child. Specifically, a down-trodden child, and the planet had no shortage of those. One Gabe had adopted, who'd needed his path righted before he'd gone too far down to change course; another, Gabe kept an eye on, and who put him even more on his toes because of his manifesting abilities. Then there were the countless young faces he'd see back in the old group he ran with, some accusing, some relieved, and others just- defeated. Each wore him down as the wind did stone, until he couldn't recognize himself anymore, and one clusterfuck later, Gabe was here.
Apparently it was too much to hope that he wouldn't wring himself dry over more children, although in all honesty, he hadn't even wished for that in the first place. As far as he was concerned, he was already a bit of a lost cause, but that didn't mean the kids had to be.
Unfortunately, most of his expertise was in protecting and guiding, not- healing, so much. Patching up the small things he could manage, but wounds more severe than that needed more experience that he didn't have. This would have been easier if he were with someone else, because he could go fetch who was needed; however, the hybrid was alone with the collapsed child, their neck open, crimson haloing their body. "Hey, can you hear me, kiddo? I'm not here to hurt you. Just stay calm for me. Don't try to talk." He couldn't do much to slow the flow with his owl feet, so Gabriel had to awkwardly improvise, attempting to stem the bleeding via pressing the side of his face firmly against the wound. Not the best way, no, but one of their many medics would arrive soon.
[align=right][i]——INFO
Re: gift of the night / o, injured child - MOONMADE - 07-26-2018
[size=9pt]If he could wish for one thing, it would be to render kids impenetrable. Immune to anything the world sent their way. But the Genie seemed to be on vacation, so Moon could only hope he booked a return flight and stew in his own bitterness in the mean time.
It was hard to look at. Some little thing, collapsed in on itself, surrounded by a crimson puddle. When Moon first saw them, he was sure they were dead. That amount of blood, for such a small creature? But then he heard Gabriel speak to them, and of course it was Gabe. That feathery fucker must have some sort of censor attached to his big head that goes off whenver there's a fucked up kid within a ten mile radius. Honestly, Moon's grateful for it. As much as he keeps up the I Hate You act, having Feathers around to watch over youth who were previously left unguarded, no shelter from the World's worst inhabitants, was something they needed. And Gabriel wasn't the worst candidate for that role.
A litany of hushed curses under his maw, Moon carries himself forward on gentle footsteps and smooth movements. As much as he can manage, that is; his paw is still royally fucked, but he needs to keep himself quiet. He doesn't want to freak the kit out, but he knows there's still a chance he might. "It's alright, kid," he says, thoroughly refusing the bile that creeps up his throat. It's hard to make Moon sick, but this is something else. "I'm gonna' fix you up, okay?" He says, dropping the make shift bag from his neck and quickly rooting through it. "It's not even that bad, you'll be fine." Lies are the best medicine.
He takes a piece of cloth from his bag and folds it in a triple layer. He knows the cats in this clan don't usually carry stuff like this, but back home, lions would appear in the Doctor's den with a torn up throat by the hour. He's learned that it's worth carrying around with him. "Gabe, lift your head on three." He holds the cloth directly above the kit's neck, and, quiet, he counts down. On three, as soon as hybrid moves, Moon swiftly covers the wound with the cloth. He holds down with one paw, gentle not to hurt, but with enough pressure to hopefully stall the bleeding. He takes his cobwebs and wraps them through the cats fur, grasping to the sides of the cloth to keep it in place. There's just one thing he needs, now, but when he glances back to his bag it's nowhere to be seen.
Frustration hits him like a freight train and he clenches his teeth tight. No poppy seeds, not even any marigold to make a poultice for the bleeding. He knows the kit's already in pain beyond belief, but once the shock and adrenaline fades, it'll be so much worse. He releases a quick breath filled with barely concealed agitation. He's a fucking idiot. In a voice hushed so as the frantic feline doesn't hear him, he turns to Gabriel. "I need someone else from the medic team. Peri, Lessa, fuckin-- Anyone. I'm all out of herbs."
It was hard to look at. Some little thing, collapsed in on itself, surrounded by a crimson puddle. When Moon first saw them, he was sure they were dead. That amount of blood, for such a small creature? But then he heard Gabriel speak to them, and of course it was Gabe. That feathery fucker must have some sort of censor attached to his big head that goes off whenver there's a fucked up kid within a ten mile radius. Honestly, Moon's grateful for it. As much as he keeps up the I Hate You act, having Feathers around to watch over youth who were previously left unguarded, no shelter from the World's worst inhabitants, was something they needed. And Gabriel wasn't the worst candidate for that role.
A litany of hushed curses under his maw, Moon carries himself forward on gentle footsteps and smooth movements. As much as he can manage, that is; his paw is still royally fucked, but he needs to keep himself quiet. He doesn't want to freak the kit out, but he knows there's still a chance he might. "It's alright, kid," he says, thoroughly refusing the bile that creeps up his throat. It's hard to make Moon sick, but this is something else. "I'm gonna' fix you up, okay?" He says, dropping the make shift bag from his neck and quickly rooting through it. "It's not even that bad, you'll be fine." Lies are the best medicine.
He takes a piece of cloth from his bag and folds it in a triple layer. He knows the cats in this clan don't usually carry stuff like this, but back home, lions would appear in the Doctor's den with a torn up throat by the hour. He's learned that it's worth carrying around with him. "Gabe, lift your head on three." He holds the cloth directly above the kit's neck, and, quiet, he counts down. On three, as soon as hybrid moves, Moon swiftly covers the wound with the cloth. He holds down with one paw, gentle not to hurt, but with enough pressure to hopefully stall the bleeding. He takes his cobwebs and wraps them through the cats fur, grasping to the sides of the cloth to keep it in place. There's just one thing he needs, now, but when he glances back to his bag it's nowhere to be seen.
Frustration hits him like a freight train and he clenches his teeth tight. No poppy seeds, not even any marigold to make a poultice for the bleeding. He knows the kit's already in pain beyond belief, but once the shock and adrenaline fades, it'll be so much worse. He releases a quick breath filled with barely concealed agitation. He's a fucking idiot. In a voice hushed so as the frantic feline doesn't hear him, he turns to Gabriel. "I need someone else from the medic team. Peri, Lessa, fuckin-- Anyone. I'm all out of herbs."
Re: gift of the night / o, injured child - Cosmic - 07-26-2018
"I'm not on the medic team, but I can help." I offered, my voice soft as I quietly and slowly approached, eyes glancing over to the injury. God, that was painful. And to a child? Who the fuck does this kind of shit?
I was somehow always prepared for events like this, and I gave Moon a nod of appreciation, Gabe too, for having acted so quickly to help the poor kitten. As a first responder, it was nice to see others who knew what they were doing and helping out and doing their part. I could tell that the wound would definitely need to be kept watch on after this, and that it was missing marigold to fend off infection.
"Hey, Moonmade." I turned to the lion, offering him my own small bag of herbs filled with just about anything necessary to treat almost every medical emergency. I always had it on me, and even owned a private garden in my room just for growing herbs.
However, I decided instead to pull out the marigold for him, offering it to the Halo. Once he took it, I fished around for a few poppy seeds, only enough so that it would safely ease the pain the kit would experience. I held them as I waited for him to do his job, and then offered the poppy seeds, should he need them.
"You'll be alright, I promise." I attempted to soothe the patient with reassuring words and calming statements. It was the best we could do at the moment.
Re: gift of the night / o, injured child - Tex - 07-26-2018
↠↠
tex had learned a long time ago that life can always be so predictable for her, no matter what. the reason for this is because she has taught herself to always expect any and all scenarios she possibly could regardless of whether or not they are good or bad outcomes. this is a tactic she utilizes in combat more than ninety percent of the time since that is her life in a nutshell. fighting to survive is all she knows on how to live your life; constantly treading uphill to at some point tumble down just to tread upwards again - that's her life and that's how it is always going to be. she would be unable to lie in saying that she had a few brief good moments; but all the struggle and hardships that occur well eradicate any trace of anything in her life being good; except for the people she's grown to tolerate and may even slightly care about.
when it comes to children, tex never admits or feels as though she has a soft side for them. she saw them as the next generation of individuals who may change their world for the better, thus their lives are significant. regardless of how the world may change, they are the ones who will be making it in the future when everyone else is gone. one could only hope that it changes for the better. the agent also knew that when you're young, you're normally inexperienced and weak; it simply depends on how you were raised or how you take care of yourself. no one, regardless of their age or any other factor should be underestimated; she knows that full well.
so when the agent stumbles across the three, she makes her way over to investigate. seeing a drastically injured child is nothing new to her unfortunately, but it was good to have that mental wall already established in the many cases when she has to seek aid for them. when the apparent medic made mention that he was all out of those medicinal herbs she sighed. of all the times for a medic to not have all relevant materials, this was definitely not the time. she glanced towards the injured youth and shook her head. no matter how strong you are, you can always end up being targeted; but those with totally no power to do are the victims most of the time. she just wanted them to hurry up and get this kid some proper medical attention before he fucking bleeds to death. fortunately player comes in for the clutch with his medicinal supply. finally, a medic who wouldn't be useless. "no point in dying here, kid." the agent would say towards the bleeding child. tex wasn't one to give words of encouragement to anyone, but she supposed this would be one of the very few exceptions despite how rough it may be. at least she tried.
//ic opinions
↞↞
tex had learned a long time ago that life can always be so predictable for her, no matter what. the reason for this is because she has taught herself to always expect any and all scenarios she possibly could regardless of whether or not they are good or bad outcomes. this is a tactic she utilizes in combat more than ninety percent of the time since that is her life in a nutshell. fighting to survive is all she knows on how to live your life; constantly treading uphill to at some point tumble down just to tread upwards again - that's her life and that's how it is always going to be. she would be unable to lie in saying that she had a few brief good moments; but all the struggle and hardships that occur well eradicate any trace of anything in her life being good; except for the people she's grown to tolerate and may even slightly care about.
when it comes to children, tex never admits or feels as though she has a soft side for them. she saw them as the next generation of individuals who may change their world for the better, thus their lives are significant. regardless of how the world may change, they are the ones who will be making it in the future when everyone else is gone. one could only hope that it changes for the better. the agent also knew that when you're young, you're normally inexperienced and weak; it simply depends on how you were raised or how you take care of yourself. no one, regardless of their age or any other factor should be underestimated; she knows that full well.
so when the agent stumbles across the three, she makes her way over to investigate. seeing a drastically injured child is nothing new to her unfortunately, but it was good to have that mental wall already established in the many cases when she has to seek aid for them. when the apparent medic made mention that he was all out of those medicinal herbs she sighed. of all the times for a medic to not have all relevant materials, this was definitely not the time. she glanced towards the injured youth and shook her head. no matter how strong you are, you can always end up being targeted; but those with totally no power to do are the victims most of the time. she just wanted them to hurry up and get this kid some proper medical attention before he fucking bleeds to death. fortunately player comes in for the clutch with his medicinal supply. finally, a medic who wouldn't be useless. "no point in dying here, kid." the agent would say towards the bleeding child. tex wasn't one to give words of encouragement to anyone, but she supposed this would be one of the very few exceptions despite how rough it may be. at least she tried.
//ic opinions
↞↞
Template by Quill
Re: gift of the night / o, injured child - Chevalier. - 07-26-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 420px; font-size:10px; font-family:verdana; text-align: justify;line-height: 110%; color:black"]It might have been little more than sheer dumb luck or a twist of fate, cruel and unforgiving as it turned about them, uncaring for the fact this as a child, simply continuing work they had disrupted by escaping it's clutches.
Slow is the rise of their chest, each breath wet and gasping, half-lidded eyes barely seeing the world, a smear of colour they could make no sense of. All too quickly it faded until it was him once more, a stranger though it was hard to push aside the feeling of familiarity, that something within eyes which gleamed bright gold had sparked a faint memory, a living shadow which moved smoothly, silence to each step. Worry bubbled within their chest, the faint whine which rose from them breaking into a cough, the ragged intake they took after a high pitched and pained thing. Too many teeth were present in a grin which seemed to have been cut there, stretching too far and it seems as though the face might split, the skin pulled too taunt to hold.
And then it is there once more. Pressure upon their throat, different, nothing sharp about it but their mind couldn't quite break from the memory, put within Gabriel's place the one who had left them in such a state. “N...n...no.” Upon their lips copper lingered, the word little more than a faint rasp as they struggled to push back, to remove him, each feeble attempt only leaving their paws to twitch, shifting only slightly. There was little more they could do, each push to force themself to move could only end in failure, their breath rushing through their clenched teeth in a soft whimper.
It hurt. Everything hurt. It felt as though snakes had coiled about their throat, tightening with each second that passed, the little energy adrenaline had lent their body fading until the heat rose, a fire burning across the ravaged skin. Laid bare it was too easy to see the damage, muscle torn apart to a point such damage is likely to leave them with problems, but it too shows their luck. Centred around the front of the throat the bite had missed their jugular vein, if only by a short distance, such has no care for the child all the same. Rough coughs rose as the blood pooled in their throat, the words of those which crowded about them little more than a faint ringing, lost as their mind struggled to stay awake.
Harland had not been a fighter, had never seen the devastation of combat nor felt such pain, yet something within them screamed for them to keep fighting, to not give in. And so they refused to, body finally falling limp as their brain came to register the fact those around them sought to help and not hinder, focusing simply on breathing, on the pressure against their throat, anything but the pain.
Re: gift of the night / o, injured child - GABRIEL - 07-26-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; font-size: 9.4pt; line-height: 1.4;"]Maybe he did have some kind of distress radar, although most likely, it was simply his weird sleeping schedule paired with his frequent patrols driven by paranoia and restlessness. Being awake at odd hours of the day and night -or sometimes not sleeping during either times- gave him the sole other option of checking the territory, and though he complained about it frequently, if it meant he could find the injured before their conditions worsened, then it was a fair trade. If only he could've been around for everyone, but for obvious reasons, that wasn't possible. It would be better if he could at least catch the wounded before their attackers struck, except again, the odds of that were low enough to be considered wishful thinking. Though it would be incredibly satisfying to get his talons on the sick bastard who did this.
The feeling only intensified as the child attempted to speak, and Gabe hushed them gently, unable to imagine the sort of pain they must be in. Hopefully, they would find respite soon, and within a few moments, he heard someone arrive, the gait and scent belonging to Moon. He never thought he'd be so relieved to see the kid, but jesting aside, Moon had a life to save, and he said nothing as the lion rambled off comforting statements while digging through his things. When the kid spoke to him, Gabe hummed in reply, lifting his head once he counted to three, immediately backing away to allow Moon more room and ignoring how the blood had begun to dry in his fur. Not enough supplies. Shit. "Don't worry, Twigs, I'll-"
Another voice. It's Playerone, and he watches her approach, offering supplies, presumably some of what Moon needed, although he was certain it would nonetheless be a help to fetch one of the others. He made to leave for that, nearly bumping into a lioness he didn't recognize, and Gabe didn't hesitate to say, "If you're not helping, then get out of the way. You're taking up space." The hybrid then set off to fetch the first person he could find, whoever that might be.
[member=598]imperia[/member] [member=1523]lessa[/member]
[align=right][i]——INFO
Re: gift of the night / o, injured child - imperia - 07-27-2018
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Imperia arrives in a flourish. Slightly out of breath from sprinting all the way over from the cleric's den back at the main camp, the lovely creature all but collapses beside Moonmade in her haste. In spite of her fatigue, the girl maintains her balance as she slows to a halt and crouches beside the young patient. "I apologize for taking so long," she says, her voice a breathy whisper. Her leather satchel seems to overflow with herbs, the stuffed contents bursting from within as she opens it up. She carefully pulls out cleaning supplies to sterilize the wound, some cobwebs to pull the traumatized flesh back together, and some bandages for after.
Now that she has managed to catch her breath, the silver she-wolf takes a moment to examine the young child at her paws. They cannot be any older than four or five moons and, amazingly enough, seem to be holding on in spite of the horrific neck wound. "Good job putting pressure on that," she says to Moon, although she does not look at him. All her focus remains on the child. Hopefully, in the time it took her to arrive, the blood already started to slow and clot. "I want to reapply some cobwebs to close the wound and some clean bandages. And then we need to transport them to the clerics den as soon as possible so I can prepare a poultice to stave off infection." She says this is a low voice, leaning towards Moon so that only he can hear. It feels strange having all these people watch her. She is so scared of making a mistake, and the audience only makes her anxiety worse. But she has got to stay strong, if only to save the child. The only way she can gain field experience is if she experiences things in the field. Even if she lacks confidence in her abilities.
Imperia turns to Playerone and Gabriel. "Can you two find something sturdy and flat to carry them on?" she asks. With neck wounds, it is important that the victim lies flat with minimal movement. Any sort of jostling that might reopen the wound or increase the heart rate risks bleeding out of filling their lungs with blood.
/ sorry if this sucks
Re: gift of the night / o, injured child - MOONMADE - 07-27-2018
[size=9pt]Yeah, so, fuck him for not having the herbs. He gets it. He can see the look Agent Texas gives him, but there's a kid bleeding out on the ground and so he doesn't exactly have time for the back-and-forth. Instead, he has time to grit his teeth to the point of a pulsing throb in his jaw and think about how much he fucked up. Too much time, actually, and by the time Player hands him the bag of herbs, Imperia has arrived. He thanks his Clanmate, regardless. It's good to have so many people around who know what herbs to look for. But they should also have a Halo around who knows where his fucking herbs are.
"It's fine," He replies, even though it's not so fine, but the she-wolf doesn't seem so stable at the moment and he's not exactly in a position to criticize, is he? He listens intently as she speaks, and her lack of confidence in herself is obvious. He wants to soothe her but he doesn't know how the fuck to, so he just kind of touches off her shoulder for a moment too long as he nestles down beside the kit. Working quickly, he rips the cloth from Harland's neck and begins layering Imperia's cobwebs onto the wound. From this angle, he can see his face, and the fear that's knitted throughout it is just a little bit heartbreaking. He swallows, rough. "Hey, buddy," Moon says, voice gentle as he spews useless words to reassure and distract. He applies the last layer of cobwebs and steps away from Imperia so she can bandage it up. "See this one? She's the Medic that actually knows her shit. Supershe-wolf. She's gonna' get you as good as new."
"It's fine," He replies, even though it's not so fine, but the she-wolf doesn't seem so stable at the moment and he's not exactly in a position to criticize, is he? He listens intently as she speaks, and her lack of confidence in herself is obvious. He wants to soothe her but he doesn't know how the fuck to, so he just kind of touches off her shoulder for a moment too long as he nestles down beside the kit. Working quickly, he rips the cloth from Harland's neck and begins layering Imperia's cobwebs onto the wound. From this angle, he can see his face, and the fear that's knitted throughout it is just a little bit heartbreaking. He swallows, rough. "Hey, buddy," Moon says, voice gentle as he spews useless words to reassure and distract. He applies the last layer of cobwebs and steps away from Imperia so she can bandage it up. "See this one? She's the Medic that actually knows her shit. Supershe-wolf. She's gonna' get you as good as new."
Re: gift of the night / o, injured child - lessa - 07-27-2018
✯ — It was Calum who spotted the group first. The sharp-shinned hawk let out a loud shriek towards the marten, before practically diving onto the scene. Sort of nice, considering he carries Lessa's own medkit, though there seemed to be supplies on scene, however a little late. The Halo herself pushed herself into a run - she really should start exercising now that she was among a clan's medic team once more - and had to nearly skid to a stop when she caught up with her winged companion.
"Th-the medkit... Has a poultice r-ready," the marten announced, her visible eye flashing with alertness and worry.
She always kept a little jar of marigold poultice in her kit; just in case. Better to have it on site in an emergency. Without another word, the Halo unharnessed the kit from Calum, quickly removing the little container with practiced ease. Lessa spared a glance at the other medics for a brief second, then gently applied the poultice over the child's - why is it always a child? - throat.
"I-if there's so-something flat," she murmured, turning her eye towards Imperia, "I h-have a blanket... We c-can set atop it." It was not large - she could only fit so much - but it was good for someone of a kitten's size.
"Th-the medkit... Has a poultice r-ready," the marten announced, her visible eye flashing with alertness and worry.
She always kept a little jar of marigold poultice in her kit; just in case. Better to have it on site in an emergency. Without another word, the Halo unharnessed the kit from Calum, quickly removing the little container with practiced ease. Lessa spared a glance at the other medics for a brief second, then gently applied the poultice over the child's - why is it always a child? - throat.
"I-if there's so-something flat," she murmured, turning her eye towards Imperia, "I h-have a blanket... We c-can set atop it." It was not large - she could only fit so much - but it was good for someone of a kitten's size.
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