Howlpaw lies in its nest in the medicine den, staring up at the low ceiling. The scent of herbs and sickness grew intolerable days ago, and now, all it wants is to be out of here. The whitecough that had left it bedridden is finally beginning to loosen its grip, but every cough still rattles its lungs, and the heat of its body tells it the sickness hasn't quite gone. Despite this, Howlpaw burns with the need to move, to do something. The medicine den feels like a cage, and every breath of stale air feeds the fire of its restlessness. It waits until the storm deepens, the howling wind masking its soft steps. Gentlestorm seems to be busy with someone else, his back turned. Howlpaw pushes itself to its paws, swaying for a moment as the world tilts. It ignores the weakness, forcing one paw in front of the other, its sharp amber eyes fixed on the entrance.
The blizzard's cold punches it in the face the moment it steps outside, stealing the breath from its lungs. Snow swirls in an endless white haze, obscuring the camp. For a moment, it hesitates, shivering as the wind tears through its pelt. But then it squares its shoulders. It's tired of being weak and sickly, confined, watched. It needs to get out of here for at least a little while. The journey out into the territory is grueling. Each step sinks into the snow, and the wind roars in its ears, drowning out all sound. It tries to scent the air, but the cold burns its nose and leaves it raw. It presses on regardless, stubborn determination keeping it moving. It can't quite tell how much time passes as it searches for even the faintest sign of prey. The snow is unbroken, the scents too faint to follow. Eventually, it spots movement: a flash of brown darting across the snow. A hare. It drops into a crouch, its muscles protesting the sudden motion, and creeps forward.
The hare darts away before Howlpaw can even pounce. It stumbles forward, missing its leap, and the world tilts again as it collapses into the snow. For a moment, it lies there, gasping for breath, the cold seeping into its bones. Its ears and toes throb with a biting pain, and it finally notices how numb they've become. Defeated, it begins the trek back to camp, every step heavier than the last. The cold is unbearable now, wrapping around it like claws. Its fur is coated in frost, and its paws feel clumsy and stiff. By the time it stumbles through the camp entrance, the fire in its chest has dimmed to a flicker. Shame and frustration twist in its chest. It hadn't caught anything. All it has earned is another lecture sure to come and a longer stay in the medicine den.
The blizzard's cold punches it in the face the moment it steps outside, stealing the breath from its lungs. Snow swirls in an endless white haze, obscuring the camp. For a moment, it hesitates, shivering as the wind tears through its pelt. But then it squares its shoulders. It's tired of being weak and sickly, confined, watched. It needs to get out of here for at least a little while. The journey out into the territory is grueling. Each step sinks into the snow, and the wind roars in its ears, drowning out all sound. It tries to scent the air, but the cold burns its nose and leaves it raw. It presses on regardless, stubborn determination keeping it moving. It can't quite tell how much time passes as it searches for even the faintest sign of prey. The snow is unbroken, the scents too faint to follow. Eventually, it spots movement: a flash of brown darting across the snow. A hare. It drops into a crouch, its muscles protesting the sudden motion, and creeps forward.
The hare darts away before Howlpaw can even pounce. It stumbles forward, missing its leap, and the world tilts again as it collapses into the snow. For a moment, it lies there, gasping for breath, the cold seeping into its bones. Its ears and toes throb with a biting pain, and it finally notices how numb they've become. Defeated, it begins the trek back to camp, every step heavier than the last. The cold is unbearable now, wrapping around it like claws. Its fur is coated in frost, and its paws feel clumsy and stiff. By the time it stumbles through the camp entrance, the fire in its chest has dimmed to a flicker. Shame and frustration twist in its chest. It hadn't caught anything. All it has earned is another lecture sure to come and a longer stay in the medicine den.
