- Sep 2, 2024
- 17
- 20
- 3
Its a song carried on a gentle leaf-fall breeze that awakens little Rimekit. Distant mourning dove coos intermixed with the soft snores of her siblings. Whistled wind through the small gaps in the nursery walls. Hushed voices of Windclanners rising with the dawning sun, sharing tongues and sharing patrols.
It’s all encompassing newly perked ears.
Each sound, novel and melodic, caresses this newfound sense in downy tendrils. They wreath around the infant - gently… Rimekit is not afraid. She greets each noise as she had with her sight; with curiosity and wonder. A head of wheaten smoke lifts from her mother’s belly, the rest of her body attempting to follow suit. She wants to find these mysterious sounds. She struggles to get her body to listen. Yellowcough has left her weaker than her siblings, but perseverance courses through her veins and urges the kitten to rise.
Rise.
To her wobbly paws she attempts once more, ears straining for the morning song, muscles straining for dominance over gravity. For a moment she is successful. And then all at once Rimekit tumbles away from her slumbering siblings, her legs giving out from the exertion. A tuck and roll cushions her fall - the resulting sound of shifting moss and gritting sand joining dawn’s chorus.
She blinks at the inadvertent distance she has created between herself and her mother, her mission quickly forgotten. Rimekit nearly mewls out of fear but the sound of another’s even breaths catches her attention. Baby blues behold the large figure of gold - Midas touched as early morning rays alight his pelt. She pulls herself towards him. Her time in the medicine den has quelled her constant desire to nurse; Rimekit has learned to find comfort in the simple warmth of another.
And that is what she has done. When the nursery residents begin to stir they will find the pale kitten curled against Thriftfeather, her small triangular ears tilting curiously each time a pleasant purr rumbles from deep inside her chest.
It’s all encompassing newly perked ears.
Each sound, novel and melodic, caresses this newfound sense in downy tendrils. They wreath around the infant - gently… Rimekit is not afraid. She greets each noise as she had with her sight; with curiosity and wonder. A head of wheaten smoke lifts from her mother’s belly, the rest of her body attempting to follow suit. She wants to find these mysterious sounds. She struggles to get her body to listen. Yellowcough has left her weaker than her siblings, but perseverance courses through her veins and urges the kitten to rise.
Rise.
To her wobbly paws she attempts once more, ears straining for the morning song, muscles straining for dominance over gravity. For a moment she is successful. And then all at once Rimekit tumbles away from her slumbering siblings, her legs giving out from the exertion. A tuck and roll cushions her fall - the resulting sound of shifting moss and gritting sand joining dawn’s chorus.
She blinks at the inadvertent distance she has created between herself and her mother, her mission quickly forgotten. Rimekit nearly mewls out of fear but the sound of another’s even breaths catches her attention. Baby blues behold the large figure of gold - Midas touched as early morning rays alight his pelt. She pulls herself towards him. Her time in the medicine den has quelled her constant desire to nurse; Rimekit has learned to find comfort in the simple warmth of another.
And that is what she has done. When the nursery residents begin to stir they will find the pale kitten curled against Thriftfeather, her small triangular ears tilting curiously each time a pleasant purr rumbles from deep inside her chest.
[ penned by kerms ]