- Dec 15, 2022
- 121
- 23
- 18
That they are alive is both a blessing and yet another twist of the knife. Each breath in is a crisp, stabbing reminder of his mortality. Cold air stung his nose and his maw until it warmed up on its way down his throat. That combined with the cold leafbare sun high above his head leaves this place a surreal, painful reminder of what he had earned in that battle. And all that he had lost.
Because the snow-stained moor grass is crisp and crunchy beneath his paws, and the snow at the edges of camp had been smoothed and flattened by countless paws. And each time he moves from one extreme to the other, it reminds him of Larkfeather. They had raced around in weather much like this, Yewberry watching, and– Galeforce, he thinks. Coyotepaw, the SkyClanner. Time had been frozen. This– this stuck sensation, helpless, as the patrols came and left and Sparkkit was left in envious wait. Juniperfrost had promised him a sea of gold, rippling like the river. Sparkspirit. . . isn't sure he'd ever truly seen it. Had he been looking?
Now the world is frozen again, and so too is he.
His paws shift on their own, piling up the loose snow. Curling them, pressing in, until the small mound breaks away from the ground and he's left with a small, misshapen snowball. So he tries again, and again. Dig in, press, curl, lift, each one better than the last, until there is a veritable army of snowballs beside him and his mind is peaceful once more. The anguish has smoothed from his expression by the time he gets it perfect. A sizeable snowball, almost as round as the sun itself, and hefty enough that it takes some effort to roll away from his body and off towards the center of camp.
Because the snow-stained moor grass is crisp and crunchy beneath his paws, and the snow at the edges of camp had been smoothed and flattened by countless paws. And each time he moves from one extreme to the other, it reminds him of Larkfeather. They had raced around in weather much like this, Yewberry watching, and– Galeforce, he thinks. Coyotepaw, the SkyClanner. Time had been frozen. This– this stuck sensation, helpless, as the patrols came and left and Sparkkit was left in envious wait. Juniperfrost had promised him a sea of gold, rippling like the river. Sparkspirit. . . isn't sure he'd ever truly seen it. Had he been looking?
Now the world is frozen again, and so too is he.
His paws shift on their own, piling up the loose snow. Curling them, pressing in, until the small mound breaks away from the ground and he's left with a small, misshapen snowball. So he tries again, and again. Dig in, press, curl, lift, each one better than the last, until there is a veritable army of snowballs beside him and his mind is peaceful once more. The anguish has smoothed from his expression by the time he gets it perfect. A sizeable snowball, almost as round as the sun itself, and hefty enough that it takes some effort to roll away from his body and off towards the center of camp.
- OOC. —
-
🗲 . ˚ . SPARKSPIRIT. HE - HIM - HIS. 14 MOON OLD MOOR RUNNER OF WINDCLAN. VERY LOYAL TO HIS CLAN. PENNED BY REVELATIONS. ————
✦ ECHOLIGHT xELMBREEZE. ADOPTED BYYEWBERRY. BRIGHTFAM, BUT SOMEWHAT ESTRANGED DUE TO HIS LOYALTY TO WINDCLAN. ———————— - "speech"