- Mar 15, 2024
- 55
- 9
- 8
The name of the game was stealth... and also hunting... and also fighting... it was like all of the things that made the adults super good at their jobs smacked into one silly game. Wild eyes slice through the camp for a familiar patchy pelt and she is hyper-aware of the way her messy fur aids in the illusion of fallen twigs and branches she lingers nearby. Born something more-like a burr than a kitten, Mottledkit seems more than comfortable to camouflage herself between shades of dirt and bark despite their less than 'pretty' aesthetics.
Where's Deerkit? she thinks, oblivious to the way a white tipped tail sticks out like a flag of defeat behind her- all she has to do to win their game is tag her den-mate first and with a blood-line like hers, she believes herself not to be a threat to scoff at. Generations of power, skill, wisdom (and of course beauty, if Moonwhisper is any indication!) trickled and purified into the epitome of perfection! Three perfect, perfect daughters to carry on the family name.
Something shifts amongst some loose leaf-litter nearby and in an instant, she stumbles towards it with a shrill laugh of victory, smacking a pale-dipped paw at the small pile with a self-assured righteousness that she has won. But when her pinkish-dappled pad hits the stiff earth beneath it and not the plushy, tell-tale warmth of someone she tussles among mossy nests with... A frown so dour it could be believed she'd witnessed a great disappointment nestles upon her round, milk-stained maw.
"S...stupid leaves," she declares, raking tiny claws through them to shred at them and win some sort of instant gratification to hurt what had spited her most in this moment! It seems forgotten then, that she is supposed to be hiding too.
@deerkit
Where's Deerkit? she thinks, oblivious to the way a white tipped tail sticks out like a flag of defeat behind her- all she has to do to win their game is tag her den-mate first and with a blood-line like hers, she believes herself not to be a threat to scoff at. Generations of power, skill, wisdom (and of course beauty, if Moonwhisper is any indication!) trickled and purified into the epitome of perfection! Three perfect, perfect daughters to carry on the family name.
Something shifts amongst some loose leaf-litter nearby and in an instant, she stumbles towards it with a shrill laugh of victory, smacking a pale-dipped paw at the small pile with a self-assured righteousness that she has won. But when her pinkish-dappled pad hits the stiff earth beneath it and not the plushy, tell-tale warmth of someone she tussles among mossy nests with... A frown so dour it could be believed she'd witnessed a great disappointment nestles upon her round, milk-stained maw.
"S...stupid leaves," she declares, raking tiny claws through them to shred at them and win some sort of instant gratification to hurt what had spited her most in this moment! It seems forgotten then, that she is supposed to be hiding too.
@deerkit