- Aug 10, 2022
- 633
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XXXXXA shape mottled like the shadows the tree cast on the forest floor moves with uncharacteristic clumsiness. Iciclefang is perfectly camouflaged in the thickets of undergrowth, but every movement is ungraceful. She swears as her sleek pelt catches yet another bramble patch, leaving the faintest trace of ginger and black. Blue eyes narrow into crystalline slits. “Fox dung,” she mutters. She’d intended on bringing prey back for the group in earnest, but her hubris has gotten the best of her yet again.
XXXXXThat hadn’t been the only reason she’d left the little gathering, though. The mocking purrs from the SkyClan cats rings in her ears, the panicked expression on Stormywing’s face. “Please stop talking,” she’d begged her friends, but it had been too late. Her best-kept secret had spilled like so much river water onto the banks. Iciclefang wondered if Stormywing had ever intended on sharing that little tidbit of her history, but she has to believe the tabby would have carried that to her grave if she’d been able to.
XXXXXKittypets. Twoleg toys, Twoleg pets. They killed Cicadastar. They stole Ashpaw. They made a fool out of me. She finds she hates the upright predators more than she does a fox, a badger, a hound. Their cruelty seemed pointed, specific, whereas a fox kills for survival, for territory. And there are cats who choose the company of barbarians, of creatures who exist to harm cats? Stormywing had chosen to leave that life, it seemed, but—but can she forget the taint that lingers on her fur?
XXXXXHer chest aches. She exhales, peering through the undergrowth. There’s another sound, lighter paws, more skillfully weaving through the forest floor. A glimpse of snow and stone, of a broad scarred chest she’d laid her face against, that she’d felt the beat of her heart through. She blinks, her hostility fading. “Stormywing?”
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@STORMYWING