Recent content by fleabounce

Fleabounce's head tips Snowypaw's way—she watches from the corner of her eye as Snowypaw admits the root of the issue. A love of little kits, the desire to see each and every little step in the journey of their growth. It is an understandable issue, but an issue nonetheless, and an issue that...

Moor-scent catches Fleabounce before she sees the boot of the highlands: it is all tufty dry grasses and burgeoning lilac. It pauses Fleabounce in her rabbit's stride, hindlegs still long behind her and one of her forepaws held gently over the mire. Then, the moment passes and Fleabounce...

Stepping into the nursery is akin to stepping into a different world. Despite the shade, it feels brighter, buoyed by the sweet scents of milk and down feathers. Nothing bad can happen here—it is impossibly safe, moreso when taken in the context of the surrounding marsh. Fleabounce knows better...

The sentiment is a lovely one, sitting and watching the shapes the sun makes with shadows. Fleabounce takes a moment to follow Trufflefern's eyes—tries to see what it is that captures Trufflefern's attention. Fleabounce doesn't share in the wonder of it, not as Trufflefern does, but her smile...

Under the watery and thin dawn light, still cold-boned from the night's chill, Fleabounce wishes she could banish her concern. She lays folded—paws beneath her body, and her short tail standing at miniscule attention behind her. The sunbeam she has chosen beckons her to sleep, and calls almost...

The hesitation catches Fleabounce's attention more than it should. Scorchfrost's stammers, and Fleabounce doesn't lean closer—not visibly—but the whole of her sharpens: a spider feeling the first uncertain twinges of step on its web. He speaks of regret, or of something near enough to be...

“The youth will allow themselves to be eaten by foxes whether we watch them or not. It is part of their countless charms,” Fleabounce nods in self-agreement as she speaks and squints at Scorchfrost in wry amusement, “I’ve appointed myself the solemn duty of trying to talk sense into them. I...

Lilacfur doesn’t allow herself to get overwhelmed or overly emotional—she squares herself into authority, and Fleabounce is proud enough that, however briefly, it washes away the worry that had taken her before. Lilacfur could handle this as long as she could keep her head afloat. Fleabounce...

There is an undeniable worry that lances through Fleabounce’s heart. It grows in size with every step-step-hop she takes closer to the freshkill pile. It grows until, as Fleabounce comes before Lilacfur, her haunches are bristled and the softer wrinkles on her face have further creased. She...

Scorchfrost joins the ground with the same gracelessness of a fledgling daring to leave the nest for the first time. Fleabounce shifts to accommodate him; the motion so often repeated that it is done thoughtlessly. The elder’s den is insulated from the rest of camp—Fleabounce could well and...

Curious eyes and ears gather. Fleabounce nods a silent greeting to Snowpaw and Magpiepaw in turn. “It is true,” Fleabounce answers Snowpaw’s disbelief with gentleness, “My mother said I was bigger than a flea when I was born, but that I bit just as hard. But I was never Fleakit or Fleapaw...

Warmth is quick to find Fleabounce. Amusement and affection mingle pleasantly behind her ribs; she feels the heat of it seep from inward to out. Her eyes crinkle at the corners. Singekit was both unapologetic and unashamed as he sat himself down. Kits only sought Fleabounce if they were curious...

It is pity rather than empathy that spikes through Fleabounce’s heart as she watches condescension startle. Fleabounce doesn’t approach—not immediately. Whatever is said in exchange between Starlingheart and Smogmaw is lost to Fleabounce, but she assumes it to be something either private or...

“Caution alone rarely begets change,” Fleabounce adds, her small paws folded at her front. Her placid voice comes from somewhere deep in her throat, “You’ll find that most of our rules—those from the warrior code and those conducted in individual clans—are born from some kind of tragedy.”...

When asked on the nature of the pain, it takes some restraint for Fleabounce to not answer with an immediate both. Like a bruise and like an open wound—sometimes worse than Fleabounce knows how to quantify. She doesn't say such things, as it wouldn't be helpful and, shamefully, would border on...