- Aug 4, 2024
- 40
- 9
- 8
Howlkit slinks out of the nursery on quiet paws, its amber eyes narrowing against the soft, filtered sunlight. The air outside feels too empty, too wide, after the close quarters of the den, and it can't shake the feeling that too many eyes are watching, even if most are too busy with their own tasks to notice the small, dark figure slinking along the edge of the camp. Its movements are quick but calculated, its body low to the ground as it skirts past the bustling warriors, unnoticed for now. It hates being around others for too long—the constant noise, the press of bodies, the weight of expectation. The nursery feels suffocating. It's too much. Everything is too much. It grits its teeth, jaw clenched tightly as it slinks past, scanning the camp with a sharp, wary gaze. No one seems to be paying attention, but Howlkit doesn't trust that. Its eyes flicker, always searching for the slightest hint of threat.
As it reaches the far wall of the camp, it spots what it's been looking for—a small crevice nestled in brambles, half-hidden by the overgrowth that clings to the camp's walls. Perfect. Without a sound, Howlkit slips into the narrow opening, feeling the cool shadows envelop it, hiding it from view. Thorns tug gently at its fur, but it's a small price to pay for the security of being alone. In here, no one can find it. No one can bother it, or so it thinks. The silence is comforting for only a moment before Howlkit's ears prick, detecting the soft sound of paws nearby. Its hackles immediately rise, a growl bubbling low in its throat, though it keeps its body pressed tight against the stone, hidden. It waits, muscles tensing, as the faint pawsteps draw closer. They're quiet, but not quiet enough. Howlkit's lips curl back in a silent snarl, its sharp gaze darting toward the source of the disturbance.
It's a kit. The faint scent is vaguely familiar, but Howlkit's mind is too clouded with irritation to place it. All it knows is that it's been followed—and it does not like being followed. Howlkit waits until the intruder is close enough, then strikes. Its body lunges from the shadows, teeth bared, a quick snap of aggression, the sound more animalistic than it intends. "Why are you following me?" Howlkit hisses, its voice low and venomous, the words spat out like a curse. The idea that someone else is so close to a place it deems safe makes its fur bristle, and it glares with all the intensity its already rather large body can hold. If the kit responds, the large kitten doesn't hear it, but then again, Howlkit isn't listening for an answer anyway. Its gaze is sharp, almost too sharp for a kit its age, and it feels the familiar burn of frustration bubbling up again. Its breath comes in quick, shallow bursts, and for a moment, it feels like it's back in the nursery, surrounded, trapped, suffocated. The thought claws at its chest, and it bares its teeth again, though it makes no further move to attack. It unsheathes its claws, though, and that allows it to settle itself somewhat.
"Just leave me alone," Howlkit mutters through gritted teeth, its voice quieter now but no less edged. Its tail lashes behind it, flicking sharply against the brambles as if to punctuate the statement. It knows it's being irrational, knows this kit probably doesn't mean any harm and couldn't do any harm even if they did, but that knowledge doesn't stop the flood of anger and fear that courses through it. Everything feels like a threat. It always does. "Go away," it mutters again, though this time there's a tremble to its voice, just beneath the surface. Its claws dig into the ground beneath it, and it pulls itself back into the crevice, deeper into the shadows where it feels safe. Its heart is still racing, pounding in its chest like it's being chased, even though it isn't. Why does everyone have to follow it? Why can't they just leave it alone? It presses itself deeper into the thick brambles, trying to make itself as small as possible, to hide from the world that feels so heavy and overwhelming.
@Woollykit
As it reaches the far wall of the camp, it spots what it's been looking for—a small crevice nestled in brambles, half-hidden by the overgrowth that clings to the camp's walls. Perfect. Without a sound, Howlkit slips into the narrow opening, feeling the cool shadows envelop it, hiding it from view. Thorns tug gently at its fur, but it's a small price to pay for the security of being alone. In here, no one can find it. No one can bother it, or so it thinks. The silence is comforting for only a moment before Howlkit's ears prick, detecting the soft sound of paws nearby. Its hackles immediately rise, a growl bubbling low in its throat, though it keeps its body pressed tight against the stone, hidden. It waits, muscles tensing, as the faint pawsteps draw closer. They're quiet, but not quiet enough. Howlkit's lips curl back in a silent snarl, its sharp gaze darting toward the source of the disturbance.
It's a kit. The faint scent is vaguely familiar, but Howlkit's mind is too clouded with irritation to place it. All it knows is that it's been followed—and it does not like being followed. Howlkit waits until the intruder is close enough, then strikes. Its body lunges from the shadows, teeth bared, a quick snap of aggression, the sound more animalistic than it intends. "Why are you following me?" Howlkit hisses, its voice low and venomous, the words spat out like a curse. The idea that someone else is so close to a place it deems safe makes its fur bristle, and it glares with all the intensity its already rather large body can hold. If the kit responds, the large kitten doesn't hear it, but then again, Howlkit isn't listening for an answer anyway. Its gaze is sharp, almost too sharp for a kit its age, and it feels the familiar burn of frustration bubbling up again. Its breath comes in quick, shallow bursts, and for a moment, it feels like it's back in the nursery, surrounded, trapped, suffocated. The thought claws at its chest, and it bares its teeth again, though it makes no further move to attack. It unsheathes its claws, though, and that allows it to settle itself somewhat.
"Just leave me alone," Howlkit mutters through gritted teeth, its voice quieter now but no less edged. Its tail lashes behind it, flicking sharply against the brambles as if to punctuate the statement. It knows it's being irrational, knows this kit probably doesn't mean any harm and couldn't do any harm even if they did, but that knowledge doesn't stop the flood of anger and fear that courses through it. Everything feels like a threat. It always does. "Go away," it mutters again, though this time there's a tremble to its voice, just beneath the surface. Its claws dig into the ground beneath it, and it pulls itself back into the crevice, deeper into the shadows where it feels safe. Its heart is still racing, pounding in its chest like it's being chased, even though it isn't. Why does everyone have to follow it? Why can't they just leave it alone? It presses itself deeper into the thick brambles, trying to make itself as small as possible, to hide from the world that feels so heavy and overwhelming.
@Woollykit
