- Jun 7, 2022
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Hatching Bird was only six moons old when he left home. His parents were dead- "A monster got them," he would tell anyone who asked, though the matter of his parents was rarely brought up. He was orphaned, left to fend for himself- to abandon the den that had once housed multiple generations of his family, in search of a means to his survival. Only just becoming the age one typically learns how to catch his own prey, the blue smoke wasn't given the time to learn such skills - resulting in clumsy failure after clumsy failure.
But the tom needed to survive, so he found more creative ways to get what he needed. He would steal prey, would fight other cats, would fight for the sake of others who couldn't - or, rather, wouldn't. And, it was sort of fun, at first - the thrill of sneaking off with someone's kill, the thrill of winning a fight, his first battle-scars. The name 'Hatching Bird' would soon bring an air of fear, of caution, to those who heard it.
"I heard he's the size of a lion!" He once overheard a young kit- merely a moon younger than he was, the day he left home- tell his mother, as he was passing through forested-lands, "That's why everyone's scared of him!" The kit's mother simply agreed, telling the scrap of fur that he 'best behave, then' or Hatching Bird will come after him.
However, with the passing seasons, it wasn't long before the tasks of his life- and the ever-shifting stories of just who exactly Hatching Bird was- grew tiring. Boring. Monotonous. His scars could only hold so many fond memories, before they too grew bland, in Hatching Bird's mind.
The rogue needed a change in pace - a new adventure.
Storm-hued paws step into marshy lands, the blue smoke covered by the area's shadows as he catches the scent of nearby cats. Intrigued, he wanders on, led only by the scent's trail. It isn't long before he finds his way to what seems to be territory belonging to a group of cats. Perfect. His new adventure awaits.
"My name is Hatch," he introduces himself to those who began to gather around him, a nod of his head following his words. He omits his full name - this new adventure is a chance to rid himself of the tales of Hatching Bird, after all. "And, I wish to join your group."
But the tom needed to survive, so he found more creative ways to get what he needed. He would steal prey, would fight other cats, would fight for the sake of others who couldn't - or, rather, wouldn't. And, it was sort of fun, at first - the thrill of sneaking off with someone's kill, the thrill of winning a fight, his first battle-scars. The name 'Hatching Bird' would soon bring an air of fear, of caution, to those who heard it.
"I heard he's the size of a lion!" He once overheard a young kit- merely a moon younger than he was, the day he left home- tell his mother, as he was passing through forested-lands, "That's why everyone's scared of him!" The kit's mother simply agreed, telling the scrap of fur that he 'best behave, then' or Hatching Bird will come after him.
However, with the passing seasons, it wasn't long before the tasks of his life- and the ever-shifting stories of just who exactly Hatching Bird was- grew tiring. Boring. Monotonous. His scars could only hold so many fond memories, before they too grew bland, in Hatching Bird's mind.
The rogue needed a change in pace - a new adventure.
Storm-hued paws step into marshy lands, the blue smoke covered by the area's shadows as he catches the scent of nearby cats. Intrigued, he wanders on, led only by the scent's trail. It isn't long before he finds his way to what seems to be territory belonging to a group of cats. Perfect. His new adventure awaits.
"My name is Hatch," he introduces himself to those who began to gather around him, a nod of his head following his words. He omits his full name - this new adventure is a chance to rid himself of the tales of Hatching Bird, after all. "And, I wish to join your group."
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