I DONT WANNA HAVE FEET OF STONE ✿ snowpaw

[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

Frost clutched at her paws, swallowing them whole as she lanced through the forest. The snow was thick, thick enough to give her a second pelt of sorts. Ears atwitch at the constant assault, Daisyflight was growing more worried by the minute. She knew it wasn’t far now. Snowpaw was holed up along the border, just past- ah, that tree. The bark was blurred to static as curtains of white bore past it, snagging on the pine’s evergreen skirt.

In her maw was a scrawny vole, its limp body already chill. The mother was unsure of her son’s eating habits out here. She hoped he wasn’t going hungry.

"Snowpaw?” The calico sat beside the makeshift nest, peering inside speculatively. The prey was draped carefully along an icy leaf, its broad surface acting as a platter. She just needed to talk to him, she had spent too long away from his side. To not have been there- with her son as Morningpaw… A wilt blink hid her fern eyes for a heavy beat.

"I’ve brought you some food! Please… can we talk?" Death- killing, it was not something she had wanted for children. It was inevitable, of course, but it had happened at such a young age. Daisyflight had put a cat away, out of the clutches of starclan, at a similar age. But her childhood was not one she wanted to replicate in her family.

/ sorry this is short, <3 @Snowpaw ​

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[Snowpath]

(Ooc: All good! All Detect posts are good posts <3)

He was beginning to regret his chosen nest, the distance from their camp had become astronimical in this weather and it felt like he had to fight his way from the burrow each day just to get free enough to go hunting; it had actually been a few nights of empty bellies by the time he heard the crunch and struggle of another making their way through the chaotic wild winds of leaf-bare. Snowpaw's hole had been pre-dug out, he had kicked the snow away from the front so he could observe the downward spiral of his namesake that threatened to swallow the forest whole so when Daisyflight arrived he watched with wide-eyes at the vole that was set down and her mint-green gaze peering in towards him; worry wrought across her maw. It was a sight almost so welcoming to break his heart, he wished he didn't have to worry her but he didn't know what else to do with himself that did not feel like an insult to the feelings of his clanmates and their own grieving. Perhaps he also needed space, but he would never admit it as such.
"Mom, I...." He hadn't spoken to anyone about it outside Thistleback and Deersong but she had left him to her nursery queen life without so much as a farewell and Thistleback had his own duties to maintain and handle; his own apprentice to train. Snowpaw had no one to turn to now but his mother and he felt pathetic for the plaintive whine that rose in his throat at her desire to help when he felt so undeserving.
"....o-okay. Yeah. I...we can talk."

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[Daisyflight]

"SUREFIRE, YEAH, THE SETTING SUN WANTS COMPANY"​

That glimmer, a pearly wobble, in her son’s honey eyes rolled mourning up her throat in a fresh wave. Others she might have afforded dignity, played ignorance, but such farces were at the wayside with her children. There was no show- no emotion she would not greet without an unabashed acceptance. It might be unhealthy but- ah Daisyflight found it difficult to care.

The molly tucked herself tight into a pine’s crooked elbow, shielded somewhat from the snow, and gestured Snowpaw close. Down-feather clumps still lapped up the green of the forest, so fiercely soaking it in white. It would be days time before the monochrome was beaten back, no doubt. "You mustn’t punish yourself, not like this." A crack of hurt, at the state of things, broke her purr before it reignited. If allowed, she pressed her pink nose to his ashen brow.

"Training doesn’t prepare a cat for something like that, nothing will. I am sorry, sorry that you were there, that it happened." They all would be, it couldn’t be taken back. Morningpaw’s family would feel that loss as long as they lived, in whatever phases grief chose to cloak itself in. Sorry’s were weak but true all the same. Death tore out threads whenever or however it occurred, in the mess of the streets or drapery of clan politics.

/sorry sorry!!
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