- Aug 4, 2022
- 211
- 35
- 28
wordcount: 359
cw/tw: minor blood/injury mentions
cw/tw: minor blood/injury mentions
I've tasted blood and it is sweet, I've had the rug pulled beneath my feet —
Frail figure aches and groans as she moves, each pawstep feeling as though it takes an eternity. The taste of her brothers blood still coats her tongue, hot and heavy - she can't forget it. Won't. His betrayal burns hot and white, like flames, life fire - as though she's been set ablaze like the burnt sycamore. And now, she thinks she might just suffocate under the weight of the smoke - of the hurt.
Green eyes struggling to focus in the darkness - the night had once been her home, comfortingly familiar. And while she knows the path underpaw just as well as she ever had, she suddenly feels out of place. Because she is not siltcloud, warrior of shadowclan, off to practice her battle skills on the twolegplace streets, hunting down unsuspecting kittypets and loners. She has been betrayed, attacked, exiled.
She is alone.
Somewhere in the distance, an owl cries - she almost wants to, too. But she refuses to let the damness leave her watery eyes to fall upon her cheeks - she is stronger than that. Headlights flash bright against the treeline, the steady thunderous roar of a monster racing by drowning everything else out. And for a moment, she stops - tail flicking as she turns green eyes upon the heavens. "Is this what you wanted?" she asks, breath leaving clouds in the cold night air.
She doesn't get an answer of course - never will. Because the stars had long abandoned them - abandoned her. Abandoned shadowclan. Crooked tail flicks, and mind is already made up. She will show them their foolishness - their naivety. Teach them that they are cursed by the stars, that everyone in shadowclan is doomed to die a pitiful death. She'd only been saving them - protecting the ones she'd loved.
Head turns to peer at the land that lies behind her - already she can see it in her mindseye. What had once been her home, bathed in red. Smile paints her face, crooked and sharp and broken, a hysterical laugh slipping past parted lips. She will be back - and they'll pay.
But for now, she must rest. At last, the dust hued figure turns and limps on.
— I've trusted lies and trusted men, broke down and put myself back together again
