private LETTER TO AN OLD POET [ robinheart + 𓆝 ]

[willowroot]

( ☾ ) the afternoon sun is bright against a clear azure sky, and the cheerful sound of bird-song echoes throughout the island. camp bustles with activity, chattering apprentices trailing after tired warriors, kits weaving between busy bodies. slender paws rustle a bracken and reed den as a sleek form slips into the nursery. black smoke tabby fur darkens in the shade, verdant eyes widening to adjust to the gloom, a small trout swinging in pearly teeth. willowroot's gaze traces the nursery walls, landing finally upon a hunched shape in the corner, dappled charcoal and flame dull against drying moss, three scraps of flesh and fur slumbering at her belly. "love," the word is muffled by the prey occupying willowroot's maw, but the soft tone and affection is clear. as she weaves around nests and playthings to reach robinheart's nest, the former queen lets out a greeting purr, setting the trout at her former apprentice's paws. "eat." she suggests softly, nothing but affection and slight worry tinging her tone.

robinheart's grief will never leave her, just as willowroot's won't, and the feline doesn't expect her younger friend to take care of herself without help. they've been visiting the tortoiseshell girl daily, helping her with whatever she needs, and they feel closer to her for it. their slender body settles at robinheart's side, reaching down to softly lap at one of the kits as he stirs, soothing him back to sleep. fern soft eyes blink slowly at their companion as willowroot sets about quietly untangling knots and snarls on the girl's pelt, smoothing the dappled fur.

"how are you doing today?"

THE ECHOING HYMN ☾ OF MY FELLOW PASSERINE

• // set early in the kidnappings <3 fish is walleye @robinheart "#91A26C"
  
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  WILLOWROOT ☾ SHE / THEY, WARRIOR OF RIVERCLAN. MENTORING MIDNIGHTPAW. PENNED BY LAVS
  
  
  a long-haired black smoke oriental with sage-green eyes. smoky long fur coats the length of willowroot's lithe body, cut through with dark ghost stripes. friendly sage green eyes that narrow in an almond shape, and her muzzle and limbs are thin and long due to her oriental heritage.
  
  
  
  

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[robinheart]

The muffled birdsong saddens Robinheart in a way she would struggle to vocalize. The day Brookstorm departed was wrought with silence - a somber reverence for the now starry pelted warrior. Hearing birdsong fill the air reminds her of the passage of time, just as the growth of her kits does so as well. Tiny scraps at her belly now nearly doubled in size, though still dependent on her.

A shadowed figure enters the nursery, someone Robinheart has become dependent on herself. Never a squalling kitten at the smoke’s belly but revering her former mentor with as much love and devotion granted to Apricotflower. “Hi,” the mottled queen whispers, an attempt at a purr rolling off sob sore tongue. Citrine eyes befall the trout clasped in talented jaws, grief for her loss clamping around her heart once more. She’ll never get used to being brought fish by anyone other than Brookstorm.

‘Eat.’

The command is laced with affectionate concern. She’s all too aware of her struggle in caring for herself. It’s been noticed by loved ones and Robinheart doesn’t know if she should feel comforted or ashamed. The thought is pushed from her mind as she gingerly nods and takes a bite of the gifted prey. She chews carefully as the smoke feline settles beside her, soothing a kitten as he mewls before turning their attention to Robinheart’s pelt - tangled from crawling kittens and a lack of self grooming. Weary eyes become half lidded from the comforting tugs and smoothing of mottled fur.

‘How are you doing today?’

She swallows and ponders the innocent question for a second. “I am worried,” she eventually confesses, shifting with slight discomfort as she recalls the weight of a collar long removed from around her neck. “The twolegs I escaped… what if they are responsible for taking our clan mates? What if they come looking for me next?” Willowroot was in Robinheart’s current position when the tortie had been taken; a queen in the nursery with a then Robinpaw promised to them to put the apprentice back on track. Sadness fills her eyes at the thought and her plush tail drapes protectively over her kits. “I don’t think I would be lucky enough to escape a second time if that came to pass.”​

[ penned by kerms ]​