- Oct 17, 2022
- 458
- 78
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MAYBE I'D BE A SAINT IF I WEREN'T ————————————
A lot of what is wrong with Snakeblink (other’s assessment, not his) is a direct result of his own idiosyncrasies; he has no one else to blame for them but his own self and the way he has interpreted lessons taught to him, often in ways that aren’t entirely wrong but definitely not what was intended by whoever taught him in the first place.
One thing he knows for sure he takes from his upbringing, though, is that he cannot sit still when there is work to be done — and there is always work to be done. His mother was a loner raising a leafbare litter of four with the help of neither a mate nor a colony; the first lesson she taught her kits, after the basics of survival, was that idle paws did not fill empty stomachs. Water Snake and his three siblings grew up constantly occupied (for those of them who grew up), and many moons after the death of his mother Snakeblink still hears her voice in his mind, gently chiding, when he sits by while others work: do you not have anything better you could be doing, little snake?
There’s always something better to do; for the sake of the clan, Snakeblink ought to do it.
He has gone on patrol today; he has brought back prey for the pile, and guided his apprentice through her attempts at catching fish. But he still feels restless with the need to do something, and the knowledge of all the little tasks that come with the change of season is like a burr caught between his shoulder blades, impossible to reach by himself. He will leave camp again, at least not for a patrol: Turtlepaw needs her rest. But maybe—
With the cold weather and dead vegetation, the warrior’s den’s nests have grown dry and uncomfortable. They usually clean them out and remake them from fresh newleaf moss at this time: the rogues put a damper on that plan. He ought to start on that. Perhaps he could freshen up the nests of some of his fellow warriors while he’s at it; they might appreciate it.
Plan in mind, Snakeblink slithers into the den and grabs his own nest between his teeth, walking himself out backward while dragging the flattened moss. He turns once he’s exited the den, aiming to pull the old nest out of camp; but his movement is a little too sharp, and the old moss breaks apart near immediately. He’s left with a mouthful of dry plant while the rest of his nest flies away from him—
And into Alderblaze’s unsuspecting face.
”Ah, frog-dung,” he swears tiredly, dropping his useless bit of old moss. ”Apologies, Alderblaze, I got— over-enthusiastic.”
One thing he knows for sure he takes from his upbringing, though, is that he cannot sit still when there is work to be done — and there is always work to be done. His mother was a loner raising a leafbare litter of four with the help of neither a mate nor a colony; the first lesson she taught her kits, after the basics of survival, was that idle paws did not fill empty stomachs. Water Snake and his three siblings grew up constantly occupied (for those of them who grew up), and many moons after the death of his mother Snakeblink still hears her voice in his mind, gently chiding, when he sits by while others work: do you not have anything better you could be doing, little snake?
There’s always something better to do; for the sake of the clan, Snakeblink ought to do it.
He has gone on patrol today; he has brought back prey for the pile, and guided his apprentice through her attempts at catching fish. But he still feels restless with the need to do something, and the knowledge of all the little tasks that come with the change of season is like a burr caught between his shoulder blades, impossible to reach by himself. He will leave camp again, at least not for a patrol: Turtlepaw needs her rest. But maybe—
With the cold weather and dead vegetation, the warrior’s den’s nests have grown dry and uncomfortable. They usually clean them out and remake them from fresh newleaf moss at this time: the rogues put a damper on that plan. He ought to start on that. Perhaps he could freshen up the nests of some of his fellow warriors while he’s at it; they might appreciate it.
Plan in mind, Snakeblink slithers into the den and grabs his own nest between his teeth, walking himself out backward while dragging the flattened moss. He turns once he’s exited the den, aiming to pull the old nest out of camp; but his movement is a little too sharp, and the old moss breaks apart near immediately. He’s left with a mouthful of dry plant while the rest of his nest flies away from him—
And into Alderblaze’s unsuspecting face.
”Ah, frog-dung,” he swears tiredly, dropping his useless bit of old moss. ”Apologies, Alderblaze, I got— over-enthusiastic.”
——————————————————————————————————— so god damn lonely
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Newleaf, new start! It's spring cleaning time! The camp could use some sprucing up, nests need to be remade and collections must be cleaned out and refreshed!
@Alderblaze -
— Snakeblink • he / him. 51 ☾, riverclan warrior
— a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
— gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo