instead i made a bed with apathy - wren

moth ★

[ STARCLAN 7.5.22 ]
Jun 8, 2022

The sun touched the horizon in a burst of ocherous hues as Moth pulled herself into camp. The day had been long and her hunt had felt even longer. She had spent her whole day on it and all she had to show for her efforts was a single shriveled rat. She dropped it limply into the group's collection, and her ear flicked at the size of the pile. The prey had been drying up for a while but the consequences were beginning to show. Too many cats in one place had stripped the territory bare.

It was beginning to feel like time for her to seek out greener pastures.

Either way, that was a thought for another time. She was bone tired, and all she wanted was to set herself down to rest. The molly slunk toward her nest, eyes already half lidded. Even for the difficulties it had caused for her hunting, this group still offered some small comforts. One being she had no need to take care where she slept. As long as she was in the camp, they would protect her.

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He's... bored. There's not many other kits his age to play with, and his mother was almost always out hunting. There's too many mouths to feed, including yours, she'd say, and it annoyed him to no end, because wasn't playing with her son more important than feeding everyone else? Who cares! Wrenkit thought he might die of stagnation. So, when he spots Moth striding into camp, clearly exhausted, he's all too eager to throw himself her way. She curls into her nest, intending to sleep after what appeared to be a less than triumphant hunt. Well... her nap would have to wait, wouldn't it? Wren does his best to copy his mother's hunting crouch, prowls closer as if he's stalking prey. His haunches give a wiggle, a slight breeze tugging through his thick tabby fur, and then he pounces, aiming to land on Moth's head and nip playfully at one of her ears.

"Tag, you're it!" Wren purrs, grinning widely.​

A yelp tears itself from her jaws as something lands atop her head. She reacts before she thinks, leaping to her paws and attempting to throw the foreign object off. In her exhaustion, it takes a few moments before his words reach her.

She stills, not wanting the kit to fall and hurt himself. "Wren." The molly began through gritted teeth, her tone low and tense. Her frustration bubbles up in her chest, but she bites it back down. She is not about to snap at a mere kit. His mother, on the other hand, she might have words with later. This is not the time."