- Jun 9, 2022
- 602
- 408
- 63
From the enclave small enclave that was his home, he manages to understand the entire world.
Once, the entire world had been a small cluster of caves. Though their walls were much too uniform— sanded down to an even finish— to be anything formed by natural causes. If he wanted to dig his claws in, the feeling is tacky and dry. And then he would be scruffed by a naked paw more spider than cat, then set somewhere where his claws would scrape something twice as sturdy, and half as interesting.
The ground shifted depending on where he’d trod. Sometimes, it was wood without splinters, smooth and dark. Other times it was not-quite fur, springy beneath his paws and at times, catching uncomfortably on the curl of kitten claws. Best of all were many things, wrapped in a svelte velvet that he may scratch at or nap on. At times, he would be rewarded with careful touches upon his skull, digits carving their way into places he didn’t think needed carving into until then, and it had him content and purring. Other times, the beast comes not to reward, but to rip away.
It was confusing, in the same way that the world had suddenly grown when the wall was split apart, and he saw the green shag of the outside world. Confusing.
He’d held his paws close as he was carried— and they were tiny, he’d realized, as he couldn’t muster the courage to gaze upon anything but his mother. Her paws were red and warm in a way his never would be, but at least he had a face to match.
Yes, he would much rather look at her as if he never has before, than see all that is new to him.
She’d set him down gently. Then the mat of green had rubbed uncomfortably at his pads. The walls around him were half-built, winding towards the open blue, and then suddenly ceasing. The strange ground did not start, and then stop. It carried on. Past the pickets, it carried on, and yet it never ceased its strangeness. He can see unfamiliar fronds rising to break the mold, leaves bigger or wider than the plain that otherwise might have been serene. The blue of the sky is a blue he’s never seen. And in it sits a bright ball of fire.
“ Don’t look. “
A paw much larger than his has blotted that light from his vision. He was already tearful, and the world was cloudier for it. “ Why– Why does it hurt? “ he’d asked her, because she knew everything, of course.
Her smile had been easy. It always was. “ The sun burns so fiercely that it can hurt, “ she’d told him— and he’d thought that was quite terrible. She had continued on though. Boldly, as she should be. “ It is kind in its intentions, though. Aren’t your bones warmed? “
The kitten’s terror was not so full-bodied anymore. And he’d supposed— if he were to think— yes, indeed they were. A nod, small like he was.
On her face, warm satisfaction. A point made. “ And when that warmth is gone, you will miss it dearly, dear! “ On her breath had been a flurry of giggles, feather-light in that way they always were. Her paw lowers to the paleness of his cheek, and he meets her as it goads him upward. “ But as long as it’s with you, you will be just fine. Only if it dies, would we all surely follow! “
He cannot match his mother’s smile just yet. With eyes wide as moons, he leans close. “ Will that happen? Will it die? “
Strangely, she ponders this, and then with a shrug, “ No. Probably not. “
He had never forgotten that. The sun.
He still did not like the mat that prickled beneath his paws or the too-blue upper wall. He saw no reason to hide such a thing, said with a scrunch of his brow and pout of his lip. And then half his vision had been her; a pale face in his sight. “ The sky is like my eyes, isn’t it? “
The sky is what it was. And he’d seen this observation to be true. “ It is, “ he tells her. The sky is not too-anything. The sky is just right.
She had whisked away, and her child was not far behind. Found in a patch where the green tinged yellow, she sprawled with each of her limbs, the wisp of her tail flickering an invitation. He accepted, not for the ground, but for her. Nestled where belly meets shoulder, he lies, a bundle of auburn and white.
His mother had sighed. “ It’s like fur laid across the entire world. “ And he’d supposed that in a sense, he did feel held at all sides. Perhaps if he shut his eyes and opened his ears; it would be easy to think himself back into their nest. Again, she laughs lightly, the sound soothing. “ Of course, cats couldn’t be green. “
The only cat he knows is his mother. He would not know what's impossible. “ Never? “ he had asked.
Call and response. “ Never. Not unless there is something terribly wrong, “ she had said.
He ponders this for a moment. Or perhaps, for a little more.
When he opens his eyes, the world does not scare him so much. The grass does not disconcert him so wholly; familiarity makes the blades dull. The odd pricklings in between... perhaps something to be avoided, for now and until he was told. The sky reminds him of his mother's eyes.
The world is much less scary, like this.
Once, the entire world had been a small cluster of caves. Though their walls were much too uniform— sanded down to an even finish— to be anything formed by natural causes. If he wanted to dig his claws in, the feeling is tacky and dry. And then he would be scruffed by a naked paw more spider than cat, then set somewhere where his claws would scrape something twice as sturdy, and half as interesting.
The ground shifted depending on where he’d trod. Sometimes, it was wood without splinters, smooth and dark. Other times it was not-quite fur, springy beneath his paws and at times, catching uncomfortably on the curl of kitten claws. Best of all were many things, wrapped in a svelte velvet that he may scratch at or nap on. At times, he would be rewarded with careful touches upon his skull, digits carving their way into places he didn’t think needed carving into until then, and it had him content and purring. Other times, the beast comes not to reward, but to rip away.
It was confusing, in the same way that the world had suddenly grown when the wall was split apart, and he saw the green shag of the outside world. Confusing.
He’d held his paws close as he was carried— and they were tiny, he’d realized, as he couldn’t muster the courage to gaze upon anything but his mother. Her paws were red and warm in a way his never would be, but at least he had a face to match.
Yes, he would much rather look at her as if he never has before, than see all that is new to him.
She’d set him down gently. Then the mat of green had rubbed uncomfortably at his pads. The walls around him were half-built, winding towards the open blue, and then suddenly ceasing. The strange ground did not start, and then stop. It carried on. Past the pickets, it carried on, and yet it never ceased its strangeness. He can see unfamiliar fronds rising to break the mold, leaves bigger or wider than the plain that otherwise might have been serene. The blue of the sky is a blue he’s never seen. And in it sits a bright ball of fire.
“ Don’t look. “
A paw much larger than his has blotted that light from his vision. He was already tearful, and the world was cloudier for it. “ Why– Why does it hurt? “ he’d asked her, because she knew everything, of course.
Her smile had been easy. It always was. “ The sun burns so fiercely that it can hurt, “ she’d told him— and he’d thought that was quite terrible. She had continued on though. Boldly, as she should be. “ It is kind in its intentions, though. Aren’t your bones warmed? “
The kitten’s terror was not so full-bodied anymore. And he’d supposed— if he were to think— yes, indeed they were. A nod, small like he was.
On her face, warm satisfaction. A point made. “ And when that warmth is gone, you will miss it dearly, dear! “ On her breath had been a flurry of giggles, feather-light in that way they always were. Her paw lowers to the paleness of his cheek, and he meets her as it goads him upward. “ But as long as it’s with you, you will be just fine. Only if it dies, would we all surely follow! “
He cannot match his mother’s smile just yet. With eyes wide as moons, he leans close. “ Will that happen? Will it die? “
Strangely, she ponders this, and then with a shrug, “ No. Probably not. “
He had never forgotten that. The sun.
He still did not like the mat that prickled beneath his paws or the too-blue upper wall. He saw no reason to hide such a thing, said with a scrunch of his brow and pout of his lip. And then half his vision had been her; a pale face in his sight. “ The sky is like my eyes, isn’t it? “
The sky is what it was. And he’d seen this observation to be true. “ It is, “ he tells her. The sky is not too-anything. The sky is just right.
She had whisked away, and her child was not far behind. Found in a patch where the green tinged yellow, she sprawled with each of her limbs, the wisp of her tail flickering an invitation. He accepted, not for the ground, but for her. Nestled where belly meets shoulder, he lies, a bundle of auburn and white.
His mother had sighed. “ It’s like fur laid across the entire world. “ And he’d supposed that in a sense, he did feel held at all sides. Perhaps if he shut his eyes and opened his ears; it would be easy to think himself back into their nest. Again, she laughs lightly, the sound soothing. “ Of course, cats couldn’t be green. “
The only cat he knows is his mother. He would not know what's impossible. “ Never? “ he had asked.
Call and response. “ Never. Not unless there is something terribly wrong, “ she had said.
He ponders this for a moment. Or perhaps, for a little more.
When he opens his eyes, the world does not scare him so much. The grass does not disconcert him so wholly; familiarity makes the blades dull. The odd pricklings in between... perhaps something to be avoided, for now and until he was told. The sky reminds him of his mother's eyes.
The world is much less scary, like this.