- May 31, 2023
- 187
- 55
- 28
There are too many emotions to name swirling in Scorchpaw's chest. There has not been a reason to smile since even before her departure with the rest of WindClan's chosen saviors; her last few days in camp had been tear-littered and hard to bear. The loss of her mentor; the loss of her father; the loss of her credibility when she spoke out of turn for him. Was it really so easy to be disloyal? As her cream-dipped paws stalk across foreign land, she thinks of Cherrypaw; as the nights grow long, she talks to Cherrypaw; as the sun comes up in the mornings, she feels paralyzed by the idea that falling out of grace could be so easy. Had Badgermoon wanted power as she wants the companionship of the opal-furred molly? Where even was he? None of the journey cats had spoken a word about the tuxedo tom or his partner among their ranks. The fact enrages her. It heats her grief into malleable anger that she can form into points and turn on others.
They've set up camp for the night and Scorchpaw cannot sleep. The trees crowd Silverpelt, and she loathes the way it makes her feel claustrophobic. She wonders if Luckypaw feels the opposite, forced out into the open after working primarily underground for so long. It's been so long since they've really talked like they did when they were kits. Ever time she has looked at him lately, she has felt the sharp claw of jealousy stab through her tender heart; he was quickly outrunning her, with his rabbit catch (when was the last time she'd caught prey?) and his confidence (how had he spoken up for this journey before her?) and his mentor who was still around (what more can be said there?). But they have at least one thing in common, now: they have a traitor's blood in their veins.
She'd wager to say they have more than that in common, and it is that search for comfort that draws her near her paler-furred littermate now. The journey has already been hard, and it is made harder by the grief they both must carry. But other thoughts mingle at the back of her skull, and it is those that she wishes to voice. The ember-furred girl nudges Luckypaw's ear with her nose. "Are you awake?" she meows quietly, no room for a smile on heavy black lips. Whether he answers or not, she curls into place beside him, their pelts sharing some small, comforting warmth. "I can't sleep."
/ retro to river crossing! @LUCKYPAW
They've set up camp for the night and Scorchpaw cannot sleep. The trees crowd Silverpelt, and she loathes the way it makes her feel claustrophobic. She wonders if Luckypaw feels the opposite, forced out into the open after working primarily underground for so long. It's been so long since they've really talked like they did when they were kits. Ever time she has looked at him lately, she has felt the sharp claw of jealousy stab through her tender heart; he was quickly outrunning her, with his rabbit catch (when was the last time she'd caught prey?) and his confidence (how had he spoken up for this journey before her?) and his mentor who was still around (what more can be said there?). But they have at least one thing in common, now: they have a traitor's blood in their veins.
She'd wager to say they have more than that in common, and it is that search for comfort that draws her near her paler-furred littermate now. The journey has already been hard, and it is made harder by the grief they both must carry. But other thoughts mingle at the back of her skull, and it is those that she wishes to voice. The ember-furred girl nudges Luckypaw's ear with her nose. "Are you awake?" she meows quietly, no room for a smile on heavy black lips. Whether he answers or not, she curls into place beside him, their pelts sharing some small, comforting warmth. "I can't sleep."
/ retro to river crossing! @LUCKYPAW
![4d5460.png](https://dummyimage.com/600x1/4d5460/4d5460.png)
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—scorchkit. scorchpaw
— she/they ; apprentice of windclanclan
— short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
— "speech" ; thoughts
— penned by meghan
— chibi by giinya, ref & profile art by me