- Aug 4, 2024
- 64
- 14
- 8
The world is still, for once, as Howlpaw lies sprawled beneath the dappled shade of an old oak. Its amber eyes are half-lidded, more from fatigue than relaxation, but the usual tension in its small frame is notably absent. It doesn't feel the need to scan its surroundings right now. The wind rustles gently through the thinning leaves above, and the cool air carries the scent of autumn—crisp, earthy, and fleeting. Howlpaw breathes in deeply, its narrow chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. It isn't often that it allows itself this kind of peace, but the morning training session had been long and grueling. Even the mentors had agreed to let the apprentices rest for a while before the afternoon patrols. Howlpaw hadn't wasted time joining the others by the fresh-kill pile or indulging in idle chatter. Instead, it had slipped away, padding silently to this quiet spot on the edge of camp where the noise feels distant and the air feels lighter.
The grass beneath it is soft, and its fur blends almost seamlessly into the shadows cast by the oak's gnarled branches. A patch of sunlight dances just out of reach, warming the ground, and Howlpaw idly watches it move as the wind shifts the leaves. It thinks about nothing in particular, for once letting its mind wander without sinking into the darker corners of its memories. Its paws twitch slightly, as if holding back from batting at the dancing leaves. A soft rustling nearby causes its ears to flick, but it doesn't lift its head. The sound is small, harmless, it tells itself. A squirrel, maybe. It tries to trust that it will not be attacked just now. Trust feels foreign, even in something so small, but it doesn't chase the thought away.
Its gaze drifts up to the sky, visible in patches through the canopy above. The clouds are slow-moving, thick and gray, though they don't yet threaten rain. Howlpaw remembers a time when it loved watching clouds, trying to see shapes in them, letting its imagination run wild. It had been easier, back then, when its eyes were newly open and it wasn't expected to know all the dangers of the world. A pang of longing tugs at it, faint but undeniable, and it presses its claws into the soft dirt beneath it, grounding itself. It lets its eyes close, if only for a moment, focusing on the sensation of the breeze playing through its fur. Somewhere in the distance, birdsong rises and falls, interrupted occasionally by the chatter of Clanmates. It doesn't resent the sound today; it feels like life, and it is oddly comforting to know that the world keeps moving, even when it stops to breathe.
For a fleeting moment, Howlpaw feels something akin to contentment. It doesn't cling to the feeling or question it. It simply lets it be, like the leaves drifting gently from the branches above.
The grass beneath it is soft, and its fur blends almost seamlessly into the shadows cast by the oak's gnarled branches. A patch of sunlight dances just out of reach, warming the ground, and Howlpaw idly watches it move as the wind shifts the leaves. It thinks about nothing in particular, for once letting its mind wander without sinking into the darker corners of its memories. Its paws twitch slightly, as if holding back from batting at the dancing leaves. A soft rustling nearby causes its ears to flick, but it doesn't lift its head. The sound is small, harmless, it tells itself. A squirrel, maybe. It tries to trust that it will not be attacked just now. Trust feels foreign, even in something so small, but it doesn't chase the thought away.
Its gaze drifts up to the sky, visible in patches through the canopy above. The clouds are slow-moving, thick and gray, though they don't yet threaten rain. Howlpaw remembers a time when it loved watching clouds, trying to see shapes in them, letting its imagination run wild. It had been easier, back then, when its eyes were newly open and it wasn't expected to know all the dangers of the world. A pang of longing tugs at it, faint but undeniable, and it presses its claws into the soft dirt beneath it, grounding itself. It lets its eyes close, if only for a moment, focusing on the sensation of the breeze playing through its fur. Somewhere in the distance, birdsong rises and falls, interrupted occasionally by the chatter of Clanmates. It doesn't resent the sound today; it feels like life, and it is oddly comforting to know that the world keeps moving, even when it stops to breathe.
For a fleeting moment, Howlpaw feels something akin to contentment. It doesn't cling to the feeling or question it. It simply lets it be, like the leaves drifting gently from the branches above.