camp FLEEING THE CHILL .ᐟ LEAF-FALL

[Comfreykit]

Comfreykit has known little in his short time in the world. He has known the warmth of his mother’s touch, the sweet taste of milk, the sounds of the waking world. He has known his name, his siblings’, he knows mother and papa as they have been presented to him. He has known the sublime first sensation of sight, and sound, and tasted his first piece of freshkill, a rabbit that predestined his future as a moor runner.

It all seems like quite a lot when looked at from his perspective, but he also knows that there is so much more to be learned about the world and its inhabitants. Since having gained the ability to get up and separate himself from mother, walking about the nursery, exploring its corners and crevices, Comfreykit has realized that the world is so much colder when he’s not at Bluefrost’s belly and his siblings’ sides.

The days that passed had become a far cry from what he’d noticed when he’d first opened his eyes – the light that leeched its way into the nursery lasted less than it had before, in turn turning the days colder as each passed. Chills wracked Comfreykit’s small body when he did go snooping around, and he was quick to return to the hubbub of his family to soak up their warmth. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be mother – for she knew all, and she knew best.

“Moth-er,” he croaked, small voice picking up in the bounds of the nursery to which they were all confined, some voluntarily, some not, in papa’s case – but he knew not the politics of the older folk, nor was he concerned by them; blissfully unaware was he, as all kittens should be. Free to be young, for now. “Where… light? Where light? ‘s cold.” Giving a performative shiver, Comfreykit curled in close to mother’s stomach.

‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎OOC ᓚ₍ ^. .^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ INFO ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

• ! fall prompt: "It's Comfreykit's first Leaf-fall - and while he hasn't experienced much of what the world has to offer, surely the changes must feel jarring. How does he react to the shorter days and colder weather? Does he like it better that way, or long for the warmth that he once knew?"
  @BLUEFROST mother tag :]
  

• 

• COMFREYKIT ✩ kit of windclan, zero moons
  → walks hunched over.
  → peaceful and healing powerplay permitted.
  → penned by Archivist → .archivist on discord.
  

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[cottonsprig]

Cottonsprig tends to another visit with the nursery charges; checking in on Slateheart's twins, Sootspot's quickly growing litter, Bluefrost's now wandering ones (there's selfishness in the lattermost obligation, one that she no longer hides from herself.) She prattles on something useless to her sister, perhaps details of the territory or the most recent skirmish, when Comfreykit tugs on his own tether and draws himself closer to the warmth and safety of his mother once more.

Yet... it is not Bluefrost's flank he curls against. It is her own, the plush fur set in by his meager weight. The nursery has cluttering scents, Cottonsprig tells herself, and she and her sister are both smatterings of smoke and soot and ash. A kitten still learning to see would claim any grey furred molly as their mother at first glance - right? It's instinctual, the way her tail draws around the little, shivering body of the small tom. She wishes to arch over him, press her nose to atop his head, but instead...

"Sorry, Comfreykit," she apologizes, and there's deep sincerity and pain lingering in her tone before she clips it into something more chipper. "Your mom's that one, there," she motions to Bluefrost with a white capped paw, her smile plastered to her face. Regardless of if he scrambles away or still holds close, she tries to answer his question; "Nights grow longer when leafbare's on its way. Your mother and I -" she does not pause with the statement, does not tremble with how the two are one in the same... but also entirely not to the boy. But inwardly, pieces of her decay. "- we were born on one of the longest nights, you know. Right in the snow, right on the moors... The chill and the dark isn't so bad once you get used to it."
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