- May 31, 2023
- 187
- 55
- 28
It had been naive to think they'd get through the journey without meeting death along the way. Scorchpaw hadn't known Little Wolf well, but it is strange to travel one cat lighter; it is strange to see the grief on the ThunderClanners' faces; it is strange to see the brown scabs cutting through Cherrypaw's citrine-cream pelt. Scorchpaw tries not to stare for long. She steals a glance here and there when Cherrypaw walks ahead of her instead of at her side, or when the other molly rests in milk-pale moonbeams, but otherwise Scorchpaw makes a concerted effort not to let her piercing gaze reopen the wounds.
But even beyond the physical damage, Cherrypaw seems to have sobered. Scorchpaw wonders if she herself has ever been bubbly enough to become notably less so; and it isn't that Cherrypaw isn't warm or kind or fun, but there is a certain weight that she now carries that is about the size of Little Wolf strewn across the snow. It makes a part of her ache. She thinks that maybe, if she could reach her cream-dipped paw into the SkyClan apprentice's chest, she could cradle the sore heart within it and make her feel alright again– but StarClan knows that's impossible. So instead Scorchpaw tries something else.
They've been in the woods for a few sunrises now, but only today had she found something that reminds her sweetly of home. In flame-licked jaws she carries the delicate corpse of a butterfly, streaked with pepper-red and dotted with salt-white, its scales shimmering in the light that stammered through the trees. She finds Cherrypaw more easily now; she can pick the tortoiseshell out of any smattering of fall-flame leaves, she thinks, and she is glad for it. Scorchpaw approaches quietly, but behind the striking wings hides her trying smile. "Hey," she greets, if only to alert Cherrypaw to her presence, before sitting before her, white-tipped tail curling around her cream paws. "I brought you something. Can I put it on?"
/ @Cherrypaw
But even beyond the physical damage, Cherrypaw seems to have sobered. Scorchpaw wonders if she herself has ever been bubbly enough to become notably less so; and it isn't that Cherrypaw isn't warm or kind or fun, but there is a certain weight that she now carries that is about the size of Little Wolf strewn across the snow. It makes a part of her ache. She thinks that maybe, if she could reach her cream-dipped paw into the SkyClan apprentice's chest, she could cradle the sore heart within it and make her feel alright again– but StarClan knows that's impossible. So instead Scorchpaw tries something else.
They've been in the woods for a few sunrises now, but only today had she found something that reminds her sweetly of home. In flame-licked jaws she carries the delicate corpse of a butterfly, streaked with pepper-red and dotted with salt-white, its scales shimmering in the light that stammered through the trees. She finds Cherrypaw more easily now; she can pick the tortoiseshell out of any smattering of fall-flame leaves, she thinks, and she is glad for it. Scorchpaw approaches quietly, but behind the striking wings hides her trying smile. "Hey," she greets, if only to alert Cherrypaw to her presence, before sitting before her, white-tipped tail curling around her cream paws. "I brought you something. Can I put it on?"
/ @Cherrypaw
![4d5460.png](https://dummyimage.com/600x1/4d5460/4d5460.png)
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—scorchkit. scorchpaw
— she/they ; apprentice of windclan
— short-haired tortoiseshell she-cat with low white and orange/yellow eyes
— "speech" ; thoughts
— chibi by giinya, signature by raphaelion
— penned by meghan