- Aug 31, 2023
- 33
- 2
- 8
tags. ↟↟↟ The night was thick. The cool leaf-fall air was slow to show itself. In the far-off distance a strange cooing of some animal could be heard in the pine trees. He opened his eyes and glanced around at the warm curled up bodies in the nursery. Then he slithered away from his mother’s side.
Pinekit couldn’t sleep. His days lacked the novelty and intensive training that collapsed apprentices in their dens. They lacked the duties of patrolling, hunting, and politics that weighed on warriors and made their muscles ache for a good night’s rest. He played moss ball all day, but the game didn’t tire him like it once did. Camp was starting to seem too small and too cramped. Claustrophobia was setting in. He could run from one end of the hollow and back with little difficulty. He had explored every nook and cranny the camp had to offer. He wanted more.
Slowly, on awkward paws, he moved for the opening of the nursery. The entrance of the den was a circle of soft moonlight. Pinekit crept ever so slowly. He stretched a single paw far in front of him and placed it on the nursery floor. Then he waited a whole ten seconds with his ears perked. When he heard no signs of anyone stirring, he gradually stretched forward to follow his outstretched paw. He continued this tedious mode of movement until moonlight touched his ears.
The camp was quiet. It lacked its usual bustle. The only noises to be heard were the soft snores of clanmates and a night bird’s coos in the distant forest. It was the same hollow he’d spent all his life in but somehow it felt unfamiliar. Pinekit thought of what to do in his restlessness. No one was watching. It could be his chance to break a rule and no one might know. He could finally get a coveted glance at what existed beyond the thorny bramble walls of camp. Would it be worth it?
His paws began to move before he considered his actions thoroughly. He surrendered to temptation and his own curiosity. The farther he padded from the nursery the less careful his pawsteps became. Soon, he was moving freely, and he scampered to the edge of the hollow by the entrance of the camp. Before him, the tunnel of brambles and thorns seemed to lead into complete darkness. Pinekit halted. His green eyes stared wide as an owl’s into the tunnel. Complete unknowness awaited on the other side.
Unexpectedly he felt the freeness and the brightness of his curiosity start to drain from him. The thick night was overbearing. He recalled the warnings – seemingly constant out of his older clanmates’ maws – of how dangerous the outside of camp was for a kit like him. They forced him to stay inside. Surely it was for a good reason. Ooo, hoo-hoo-hoot! Pinekit lurched in surprise. His scruffy fur stood on end. The sound of the night bird was loud and close. He stood trembling in silence.
He wasn’t brave. He couldn’t force his paws to move into the thorn tunnel that led out of camp. He couldn’t break the rule – not because he was principled and not because he was patient, but because he was a coward. A rabbit-heart. His trembling paws wouldn’t deliver him forward, they wouldn’t budge an inch. Backwards? Backwards they would go. Back toward the home he knew and back toward the warm nursery that was safe – his paws propelled his body with such force he thought he might lose his balance. On shaky lanky legs the tomkit dashed back into the nursery, not caring to disturb the others sleeping there. He ducked back beside his mother, pressing his nose to her pelt.
The thickness of the night began to lift. The coos of the unseen night bird were replaced with the cheeping of familiar sparrows and finches. Pinekit couldn’t sleep. This night he hadn’t learned of what existed outside of camp – instead he learned something else. He was a rabbit-heart and while no clanmates had been around to witness, he wondered how long it would be until they learned too.
Pinekit couldn’t sleep. His days lacked the novelty and intensive training that collapsed apprentices in their dens. They lacked the duties of patrolling, hunting, and politics that weighed on warriors and made their muscles ache for a good night’s rest. He played moss ball all day, but the game didn’t tire him like it once did. Camp was starting to seem too small and too cramped. Claustrophobia was setting in. He could run from one end of the hollow and back with little difficulty. He had explored every nook and cranny the camp had to offer. He wanted more.
Slowly, on awkward paws, he moved for the opening of the nursery. The entrance of the den was a circle of soft moonlight. Pinekit crept ever so slowly. He stretched a single paw far in front of him and placed it on the nursery floor. Then he waited a whole ten seconds with his ears perked. When he heard no signs of anyone stirring, he gradually stretched forward to follow his outstretched paw. He continued this tedious mode of movement until moonlight touched his ears.
The camp was quiet. It lacked its usual bustle. The only noises to be heard were the soft snores of clanmates and a night bird’s coos in the distant forest. It was the same hollow he’d spent all his life in but somehow it felt unfamiliar. Pinekit thought of what to do in his restlessness. No one was watching. It could be his chance to break a rule and no one might know. He could finally get a coveted glance at what existed beyond the thorny bramble walls of camp. Would it be worth it?
His paws began to move before he considered his actions thoroughly. He surrendered to temptation and his own curiosity. The farther he padded from the nursery the less careful his pawsteps became. Soon, he was moving freely, and he scampered to the edge of the hollow by the entrance of the camp. Before him, the tunnel of brambles and thorns seemed to lead into complete darkness. Pinekit halted. His green eyes stared wide as an owl’s into the tunnel. Complete unknowness awaited on the other side.
Unexpectedly he felt the freeness and the brightness of his curiosity start to drain from him. The thick night was overbearing. He recalled the warnings – seemingly constant out of his older clanmates’ maws – of how dangerous the outside of camp was for a kit like him. They forced him to stay inside. Surely it was for a good reason. Ooo, hoo-hoo-hoot! Pinekit lurched in surprise. His scruffy fur stood on end. The sound of the night bird was loud and close. He stood trembling in silence.
He wasn’t brave. He couldn’t force his paws to move into the thorn tunnel that led out of camp. He couldn’t break the rule – not because he was principled and not because he was patient, but because he was a coward. A rabbit-heart. His trembling paws wouldn’t deliver him forward, they wouldn’t budge an inch. Backwards? Backwards they would go. Back toward the home he knew and back toward the warm nursery that was safe – his paws propelled his body with such force he thought he might lose his balance. On shaky lanky legs the tomkit dashed back into the nursery, not caring to disturb the others sleeping there. He ducked back beside his mother, pressing his nose to her pelt.
The thickness of the night began to lift. The coos of the unseen night bird were replaced with the cheeping of familiar sparrows and finches. Pinekit couldn’t sleep. This night he hadn’t learned of what existed outside of camp – instead he learned something else. He was a rabbit-heart and while no clanmates had been around to witness, he wondered how long it would be until they learned too.