- Jan 5, 2023
- 383
- 49
- 28
Everything hurt.
The cold was creeping in and it felt like the bones in their body had frozen along with the world around them. How long had they been there? Yesterday had proved to be difficult with dogs chasing them for nearly half a block and the scrape form the fence they bolted under stung. Though it couldn’t compare to the numbness in their paws, the dryness of their throat nor the loneliness that seeped further in their fur.
Eight moons.
It had been at least eight moons- or well was it seven? The concept of the moon in the sky wasn’t the most they worried about. Did they keep track of how long? Not anymore as it felt so hopeless. It felt like everything they knew and cared for had just slipped through their toes like sand.
Sure at the start it was hopeful. They’d get cat-napped by humans on a patrol through the forest. It was fine, until the ride from the forest was several moments longer than anything they had been use to. The plan of getting there and getting out futile the more the forest disappeared into the distance.
Twolegs had been kind, but they craved their home. The wind in their fur, the fresh taste of prey and the ones they loved in Skyclan. Everyday they waited by the window for someone to come find them like they had before in the shelter. Someone had to come, had to care- right?
A moon had passed and the feeling of being found had been squished like a berry under a paw. They had to get back themselves and it was fine- until they got out of the twoleg den and realized how deep into this foreign place they were.
Buildings and twolegs for miles with no sight of another cat for another two moons. Wondering, taking wrong turns, asking for directions- for any sort of help. Though the only one willing to help was Shadow; a large Maine coon Tom that had told them to head for the setting sun.
Of course it wasn’t easy going towards the setting sun. There was dogs, raccoons, twolegs with things that burned and sparked with light, and rogues. Lots of rogues. Fighting had become such a standard to them that it was terrifying. Blood had stained their paws more than once as they had to defend against rogue after rogue. Some seemed kind and welcoming of them into their group, others outright hated them for being a forest cat. Though rogues could be manipulative to a scary amount and they touched their chest with a front paw.
They had tried to patch it up the best they could, but it was painful and the claw marks were deep in their white chest fur. The last rogue group they had joined had been promising. They would teach them to hunt and they would show them to the forest- simple right? No. Not at all. The lead she-cat, Millie, had only wanted access to food and nothing more. They chased them off shortly after they got what they wanted and they felt lucky to be alive.
It had been a moon and a half since then. They felt like nothing mattered anymore. The forest was long gone and they would never return to it. Hope was but a dim firefly in the darkness of their mind as they forced themselves up. Taking cover in a small box in an alleyway, they had been tending to their wounds from Millies group and by that- licking them and putting cobwebs on cause that’s all they could recall was good for it.
The young cream and white cat limped forward as their back leg stung from the tussle with Millies group. A tom named Crow had grabbed them by the leg and there had been a snapping noise, and now they couldn’t walk on it. It was just what they needed to add to the hopelessness of this world. A heavy sigh left lips as their shoulders sagged. Their stomach growled with hunger but they had to bite it back. They hadn’t eaten decent in moons and it showed in their poking out ribs, thinning fur and sorrowful mossy green hues.
They weren’t sure where they were going anymore. It was important that they get out of there though as they couldn’t stay in one spot for too long. That was just asking for someone to ambush them or worse. So they walked down the alleyway slowly, limping along with their head low. The numbness in their paws tingled slightly as the cold was sucking heat from their pads, and their tail dragged across dirt stone ground.
It was a couple of hours of walking before they decided to take a rest. They couldn’t hunt due to their leg so no food but maybe they could scavange for something? That usually was the best bet but rogues took everything they could. Tired, dark eyes moved from the ground and they then felt themselves freeze in place.
Grass.
Just down the alleyway there was long grass, long dead and covered with a layer of snow, but it was grass! They lifted their head and found something pull them forward, their paws moved a bit quicker despite the coldness in their bones. They refused to let hope blossom though as this has happened before and it turned out to be someone’s yard without a fence. They had false hope before and they wouldn’t be crushed again.
White paws shuffled along at a more rapid pace before they came to the edged of where they alleyway met- the forest.
Lifting their nose, a hungered belly searched for it. That one thing that could solidify things for them and maybe put the endless torture of the last few moons to rest. A familiar scent, a familiar face- something. Then, hinting behind the freshly fallen snow, they could smell it- Skyclan.
The border between the clans and the twolegplace- they had reached it. They felt a stinging behind their eyes as tears threatened but the hardened cat forced them down. They stepped onto the snow with a soft crunching sound, looking around as if this was another dream to play tricks on them. Though as they stood there they could hear squeaks of prey, smell the border scent strong as they crossed over it and then- it all went dark.
Their body crumbled to the ground as their wounds and hunger made them submit. Though breathing and very much alive, young Honeysplash was passed out cold.
The cold was creeping in and it felt like the bones in their body had frozen along with the world around them. How long had they been there? Yesterday had proved to be difficult with dogs chasing them for nearly half a block and the scrape form the fence they bolted under stung. Though it couldn’t compare to the numbness in their paws, the dryness of their throat nor the loneliness that seeped further in their fur.
Eight moons.
It had been at least eight moons- or well was it seven? The concept of the moon in the sky wasn’t the most they worried about. Did they keep track of how long? Not anymore as it felt so hopeless. It felt like everything they knew and cared for had just slipped through their toes like sand.
Sure at the start it was hopeful. They’d get cat-napped by humans on a patrol through the forest. It was fine, until the ride from the forest was several moments longer than anything they had been use to. The plan of getting there and getting out futile the more the forest disappeared into the distance.
Twolegs had been kind, but they craved their home. The wind in their fur, the fresh taste of prey and the ones they loved in Skyclan. Everyday they waited by the window for someone to come find them like they had before in the shelter. Someone had to come, had to care- right?
A moon had passed and the feeling of being found had been squished like a berry under a paw. They had to get back themselves and it was fine- until they got out of the twoleg den and realized how deep into this foreign place they were.
Buildings and twolegs for miles with no sight of another cat for another two moons. Wondering, taking wrong turns, asking for directions- for any sort of help. Though the only one willing to help was Shadow; a large Maine coon Tom that had told them to head for the setting sun.
Of course it wasn’t easy going towards the setting sun. There was dogs, raccoons, twolegs with things that burned and sparked with light, and rogues. Lots of rogues. Fighting had become such a standard to them that it was terrifying. Blood had stained their paws more than once as they had to defend against rogue after rogue. Some seemed kind and welcoming of them into their group, others outright hated them for being a forest cat. Though rogues could be manipulative to a scary amount and they touched their chest with a front paw.
They had tried to patch it up the best they could, but it was painful and the claw marks were deep in their white chest fur. The last rogue group they had joined had been promising. They would teach them to hunt and they would show them to the forest- simple right? No. Not at all. The lead she-cat, Millie, had only wanted access to food and nothing more. They chased them off shortly after they got what they wanted and they felt lucky to be alive.
It had been a moon and a half since then. They felt like nothing mattered anymore. The forest was long gone and they would never return to it. Hope was but a dim firefly in the darkness of their mind as they forced themselves up. Taking cover in a small box in an alleyway, they had been tending to their wounds from Millies group and by that- licking them and putting cobwebs on cause that’s all they could recall was good for it.
The young cream and white cat limped forward as their back leg stung from the tussle with Millies group. A tom named Crow had grabbed them by the leg and there had been a snapping noise, and now they couldn’t walk on it. It was just what they needed to add to the hopelessness of this world. A heavy sigh left lips as their shoulders sagged. Their stomach growled with hunger but they had to bite it back. They hadn’t eaten decent in moons and it showed in their poking out ribs, thinning fur and sorrowful mossy green hues.
They weren’t sure where they were going anymore. It was important that they get out of there though as they couldn’t stay in one spot for too long. That was just asking for someone to ambush them or worse. So they walked down the alleyway slowly, limping along with their head low. The numbness in their paws tingled slightly as the cold was sucking heat from their pads, and their tail dragged across dirt stone ground.
It was a couple of hours of walking before they decided to take a rest. They couldn’t hunt due to their leg so no food but maybe they could scavange for something? That usually was the best bet but rogues took everything they could. Tired, dark eyes moved from the ground and they then felt themselves freeze in place.
Grass.
Just down the alleyway there was long grass, long dead and covered with a layer of snow, but it was grass! They lifted their head and found something pull them forward, their paws moved a bit quicker despite the coldness in their bones. They refused to let hope blossom though as this has happened before and it turned out to be someone’s yard without a fence. They had false hope before and they wouldn’t be crushed again.
White paws shuffled along at a more rapid pace before they came to the edged of where they alleyway met- the forest.
Lifting their nose, a hungered belly searched for it. That one thing that could solidify things for them and maybe put the endless torture of the last few moons to rest. A familiar scent, a familiar face- something. Then, hinting behind the freshly fallen snow, they could smell it- Skyclan.
The border between the clans and the twolegplace- they had reached it. They felt a stinging behind their eyes as tears threatened but the hardened cat forced them down. They stepped onto the snow with a soft crunching sound, looking around as if this was another dream to play tricks on them. Though as they stood there they could hear squeaks of prey, smell the border scent strong as they crossed over it and then- it all went dark.
Their body crumbled to the ground as their wounds and hunger made them submit. Though breathing and very much alive, young Honeysplash was passed out cold.
"Speech"
living in a world so cold
