- Jan 4, 2024
- 128
- 37
- 28
The transition was impressed upon her by a nature... in the heaviness of her body, the way her joints protested the extra labor. But also in the grim frown of a weary-eyed medicine cat. She'd protested, in vain, that she might be of use for a little bit longer, that another stiff-limbed walk might change things. Now all that was left was to laze away in the nursery, suffocated in empty time to think about her position, to think about who she was and what that meant for her future kits.
She woke up again feeling sick, even as the other queens set about eating with their kits, Doepath couldn't even bring herself to take a bite. It took more effort than she cared to admit to sit up... to groom the loose nest material out of her pelt and shamble out into the frostbitten camp. She could thank StarClan for her heavy coat, to keep her warm against blustering winds... but it felt like a weak comfort when competed against with such powerful bouts of nausea.
Pressing aside the thin draping that shielded the medicine den, the pale she-cat lifted her nose to sniff at the air for Gentlestorm's scent... Maybe it was selfish of her to assume he might not be busy with Hopepaw. Just another change she'd have to grapple with, another hurdle to reach what had once been an easily accessible pillar of support. She didn't want to crowd him... to stifle the apprentice's learning either.
Everything felt like a mistake.
His nest is empty... tattered where his fitful sleep has had him rolling amongst it. It smells so familiar and reassuring after so many nights spent alone. Her concerns about her selfishness go forgotten, clambering into his nest to tuck herself neatly within it in hopes that maybe the comfort of his familiar scent might ease some of her discomfort. Just until he got back...
She woke up again feeling sick, even as the other queens set about eating with their kits, Doepath couldn't even bring herself to take a bite. It took more effort than she cared to admit to sit up... to groom the loose nest material out of her pelt and shamble out into the frostbitten camp. She could thank StarClan for her heavy coat, to keep her warm against blustering winds... but it felt like a weak comfort when competed against with such powerful bouts of nausea.
Pressing aside the thin draping that shielded the medicine den, the pale she-cat lifted her nose to sniff at the air for Gentlestorm's scent... Maybe it was selfish of her to assume he might not be busy with Hopepaw. Just another change she'd have to grapple with, another hurdle to reach what had once been an easily accessible pillar of support. She didn't want to crowd him... to stifle the apprentice's learning either.
Everything felt like a mistake.
His nest is empty... tattered where his fitful sleep has had him rolling amongst it. It smells so familiar and reassuring after so many nights spent alone. Her concerns about her selfishness go forgotten, clambering into his nest to tuck herself neatly within it in hopes that maybe the comfort of his familiar scent might ease some of her discomfort. Just until he got back...
- @GENTLESTORM no rush to respond of course <3
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