- Jul 11, 2024
- 35
- 6
- 8
❀ it has been 30 days, 2 hours, and ten seconds since crochet’s mother kindly instructed her to leave. bees buzzed around their flowers, birds chirped from the treetops, an array of colors she never thought she’d witness in her lifetime. her house, to put it kindly, began to feel stuffy after the snow melted. walls coated in tacky floral designs pressed against her plush fur, muffled sounds from a record player drowned out her thoughts. crochet paws itched, ached, longed to be used for more than batting away a ball of yarn. she wanted them to feel rough to the touch, cracked and calloused after walking on difficult terrain. two years old, and all she wants to do is tear down castle walls with her bare hands and score her claws down a dragon’s eye ( one of the visitors put on a movie that looked very, very old ).
from her worn down cat tree, she began to watch people file in and out of the home— some wearing basic colored pelts and making sure the old woman was okay. none of them paid much attention to crochet, a few would glance at her, but none would smile. they’d shuffle into the room her owner slept in, and if it weren’t for the automatic feeder, she’d have worried more about the status quo. one day she glanced at her mother, who wore a solemn expression, pink hues tiredly looking at a closed door. that’s when crochet knew. was it cruel of her, to sleep with a smile on her face that night?
the farewell was teary, well meaning, and easy to shake off. she didn’t even look over her shoulder before hopping off the fence... inconsiderate of her, maybe, but bobbie hadn’t. the world ahead shone bright, whispers kissed her ears, tugging her forward on an imaginary string. crochet took a large, gulp of fresh air, and trotted away.
how does a housecat survive in the wild for so long? easy, begging for scraps, obviously! twolegs are easy creatures, crochet learned fast that all she needed to do was tilt her head like so, and softly paw at their leg. she’d lounge around their home occasionally, curling her limbs around their soft blankets and freshly heated homes. of course, she missed her mother, but her time for adventure was well overdue. in the morning, before they could call anyone, she’d scurry off, her collar jingling with greed.
finally, after 30 days— so on —the twisted limbs of the forest called to her. crochet didn’t need much convincing to step into the fairy circle, a dusting of scents hitting her nose like spores. a pinkish nose twists in disgust, the molly nearly gagging at the scent. crochet shakes out her fur, rubbing her nose once before taking another step. another. a third.
//
PLEASE wait for @DOEBLAZE !! smile
too long, didn’t read: crochet leaves her home after instructed too by her senior-aged mom. after a full moon of wandering, she steps over skyclan’s border unknowingly. it smells gross to her.
from her worn down cat tree, she began to watch people file in and out of the home— some wearing basic colored pelts and making sure the old woman was okay. none of them paid much attention to crochet, a few would glance at her, but none would smile. they’d shuffle into the room her owner slept in, and if it weren’t for the automatic feeder, she’d have worried more about the status quo. one day she glanced at her mother, who wore a solemn expression, pink hues tiredly looking at a closed door. that’s when crochet knew. was it cruel of her, to sleep with a smile on her face that night?
the farewell was teary, well meaning, and easy to shake off. she didn’t even look over her shoulder before hopping off the fence... inconsiderate of her, maybe, but bobbie hadn’t. the world ahead shone bright, whispers kissed her ears, tugging her forward on an imaginary string. crochet took a large, gulp of fresh air, and trotted away.
how does a housecat survive in the wild for so long? easy, begging for scraps, obviously! twolegs are easy creatures, crochet learned fast that all she needed to do was tilt her head like so, and softly paw at their leg. she’d lounge around their home occasionally, curling her limbs around their soft blankets and freshly heated homes. of course, she missed her mother, but her time for adventure was well overdue. in the morning, before they could call anyone, she’d scurry off, her collar jingling with greed.
finally, after 30 days— so on —the twisted limbs of the forest called to her. crochet didn’t need much convincing to step into the fairy circle, a dusting of scents hitting her nose like spores. a pinkish nose twists in disgust, the molly nearly gagging at the scent. crochet shakes out her fur, rubbing her nose once before taking another step. another. a third.
//
PLEASE wait for @DOEBLAZE !! smile
too long, didn’t read: crochet leaves her home after instructed too by her senior-aged mom. after a full moon of wandering, she steps over skyclan’s border unknowingly. it smells gross to her.