COMING OF AGE | robinheart

[ALGAEKIT]

To Algaekit, Robinheart was the sun. Her mother served as a source of ultimate warmth, as though it had come from a light honeyed and kissed by the morning, something so tender and unconditional. He had never known Brookstorm, and thus, could never conceive of her absence as a rift from the tradition of having both parents present in the mix. To her, Robinheart was all that he needed. The attack of the hound had sent the very first trickles of fear into her tiny body, shivers as though leaf-bare had wracked her, sucking her dry of the unbridled joy that had once roosted within her ribs. Today, Algae found herself staring deeply at Robin's tortoiseshell hues, pitches with russets like sunburns streaking through the night. Sea-blues traveled to the mangled leg that splayed at Robin's side - he knew it had not been like that before, that something had gone terribly wrong that day. "Maaaaama." The dilute calico trilled, ivory whites like the dawn consuming most of the shade of the dusk, leaving only small freckles and crumbs where it had missed in its avarice. Curled ears served as a constant reminder of the missing piece of Robinheart's tattered heart. "Are y' ... okay?" She blinked again.

@robinheart ​

 

[robinheart]

If Robinheart is the sun then her kits are the stars - pieces of her and moon-like Brookstorm illuminating their lives. Numerous (that number being three) and ever glowing. Shining and twinkling in newness and wonder. The tortoiseshell finds herself in awe of the trio every day. Without them she thinks she wouldn’t have had much to live for after Brookstorm’s passing. A life imagined without them was more painful than the break in her leg and punctures in her flesh.

Soft trill commands eager attention and the queen is all too accommodating to give her eyes and ears to her youngest kit. Algaekit - named by the mother she’ll never meet and after the leader he will soon enough get to know. ‘Are y’… okay?’ the child asks in careful speech, calculated and correct. It surprises the tortoiseshell queen, who instinctively shifts closer to her child and releases a soft hiss as pain shoots up her hind leg. Don’t move Robin, she reminds herself. “I will be, Algaekit. Mama got hurt but Moonbeam and another medicine cat named Gentlestorm are making sure my leg heals,” she whispers her response, blinking away the mist that had accumulated in her citrine eyes.​

[ penned by kerms ]​

 

[ALGAEKIT]

Even with unhoned senses could Algaekit figure that her mother was in trouble, though it was not a shrill whetting of pain, but rather the aftermath that had lingered uncomfortably by the mouth of the den. It was a feeling far greater than the kitten could conceptualize, as though he stared upon the sky, but even that was a mere simulacrum of the whole canvas. He understood the ramifications of the hound's attack, though the sorrows that tailed along like sad shadows did not occur to him. (It was better this way, to leave his childhood as untainted as was possible.) "Okay." He chirped with voice beading in his naivete, but such affirmation did not devour the light of concern that remained within azure gaze, though it did quell the depths of childish concern. She granted Robinheart a small smile, pressing softly into velvet features, molded clay countenance. He headbutted his mother's side in a show of affection, a show that although life sharpened itself on its trenchant humor, she still had himc- and he still had her. At least Moonbeam and Gentlestorm would take care of her and make sure she would heal. Soon - hopefully within the next cycle of the molten sun - she would be back to the nursery. Algaekit prayed for it, in the meager verses of silence she could muster within her. "Love you." She mewed, muffled within gossamer warmth of tortoiseshell flank.​