"Scarkit?" the voice of a young kit broke the endless silence. "Crowpelt's kit? He's the one who defeated him? He's just a kit!"
"He's not even a year younger than you and you've almost destroyed the world twice!" came the voice of a older tom.
The old tom approached the young kit. He stared through the bars to the small thing that had caused so much trouble. This young she-cat had never seen the light of day but still everyone outside felt sympathetic towards her.
"They wouldn't be sympathetic if they met her," the grey tom said in his head.
"I sincerely advise you to not think that thought. I don't like it," the coal-black kit said as if she could read minds.
"Well what can you do about it? You are in a cell. You don't have a wand. You are a kit."
The kit sat down as if to ponder what the guard said. She thought for some time. The guard was getting restless. He had to patrol the whole of this prison not just this kits cell.
The guard started plodding off towards the other side of the prison.
"I've got it!" the kit exclaimed.
"Something I've got which you haven't. It's quite simple when you think about it."
"Well then, what is it? I haven't got all day."
"Come here so I can whisper it. I don't want the other cats to hear about my secret weapon."
The guard looked around. The other prisoners were either raving mad or had lost the will to live. He didn't think the cats here would eavesdrop but listening to this little kit was better than patrolling these corridors aimlessly.
The old grey tom walked towards the young kits cell wondering what she was going to say.
"So what is it?" the guard whispered impatiently his ear next to the young kits mouth.
"What I have got is something you and the other guards don't know about and defiantly don't have."
"What is it?" whispered the guard impatiently. Maybe patrolling the corridors was better than listening to this mad kit.
"It's a… brain,"
"What?!" said the guard but it was too late. The kits claws were already dig into his neck. The guard was shrieking in pain but nobody heard him. He was the only guard on duty and the prisoners were either raving mad or had lost the will to live.
Laughter rung through the guards ears. It was the last thing he'd hear before he passed into Starclan. The laughter of the kit, the laughter of the prisoners. It seemed that a lot of the prisoners weren't raving mad and hadn't lost the will to live. That would make an interesting report the guard thought as he passed into Starclan.
"Scarkit will wish he had died once he meets me," the kit exclaimed. "He will wish he had never heard the name Shadowkit!"