oh, to fly // open

[Graypaw.]

Much had come to pass in the days since the death of her mentor. Warriors tearing into flesh, kits falling to illness, queens orphaning their young. It had only been days but to the young WindClan she-cat it had been an eternity. At five moons of age, Graypaw felt every day was slower than it would have felt were she older, like the tom Fogbound she had spoken to not long before. She thought of the tom and felt a butterfly effect in her stomach. It was not yet a crush, it was far from love, but something about the rugged large tom made her heart skip. Perhaps it were that she saw him as a father, perhaps as a teacher. Still, she questioned her position around him. Around the pink eyes that seemed tired from so many moons of life. She sighed as the thoughts began to dissipate in her mind, traveling off until she found herself back to the raid. The rogues, the bloodshed, the heart attack fear that had kept her hidden in the foliage that had surrounded her Clan's camp.

She missed the moors. Despite her title as a tunneler apprentice, the young she-cat couldn't help but miss the breeze against her fur. The sun beaming its violent rays down upon them. She wondered how long it would be until the day came that she could step foot into their camp again. Would she see her first snow in the lands of ThunderClan? Would the visions of her home begin to drift away until she no longer remembered the moorland grass and deep rabbit dens? A frown graced her maw and her nose twitched. Her tail tucked beneath her, Graypaw dragged her paws against the gritty sand that lay in the den she was forced to temporarily call home. Her ears angled sideways and her eyes glowered at the earth, watching the cool leaf fall air wash across the terrain. She wondered the perspective of her Clanmates, or even the thoughts that came from the ThunderClan cats that had so graciously offered their aid in the days past. There were questions she was poised to ask, thoughts that she wished to speak. Instead, however, the five month old apprentice did nothing but distract herself by the sounds of birdsong in the air and the scent of her Clanmates that lingered within the Sandy Hollow.

"Den," she started with a sigh, "sweet den." She ducked her head and, with another heavy breath, climbed to her paws. She didn't know what to do or say, where to go, or even who she could talk to. Despite the presence of her Clanmates and the many felines that yearned for chatter and companionship, Graypaw had to harshly admit that she had never before felt so lonesome and tired. Love did not sing in her heart in the same way it did for most she had been acquainted with. She did not hope for love, she did not hope for charity; all she dared to wish for was an acceptance of the she-cat she was and an understanding of the cowardice that had led her to hide during the great raid.

Graypaw shook her head and once more tried to shake away that viciously repetitive thoughts that echoed in her mind. If only there were a way to be at peace, a way to be calm. She was at the mercy of the stars, in her eyes, and at the mercy of ThunderClan. Mercy, weakness, depression - she just wished for each of the thoughts and emotions to come together into a gentle package ordeal so that she no longer felt drowned by her grievances and let go of her deep fear of the unknown, of the future. Taking in the sharpest of breaths, Graypaw made her way around the Sandy Hollow and ducked out into the wild forest where the air felt calmer, less radiant with heat. The sun was swallowed by the canopy of leaves surrounding the world above her. In one of the many trees she spotted the twigs and other miscellaneous objects needed to crate a home for the birds that lived within the vast woodland terrain. A nest for the birds that fluttered around the grassy creation. "If only I could fly," she whispered to herself. "Perhaps it would make everything right again." A foolish thought, but what could be expected of a child just weeks into her early apprenticeship?​

 

[FOGBOUND]

your entire existence gives me a headache, go stand over there .
︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Out on another adventure, it seemed, catching sight of the tunneler apprentice from where he stood. He’d been out hunting, alone as much as it was a foolish thing to do, but Fogbound never was one to play by the books or logic, it seemed. To not even bat an eyelash at death’s door. Truly, who was he? A loaded question and one the smokey moor runner had no intention of answering.

To be an asshole, or to use up what little he had in his reserves. His lips curled in a soft ‘o’ when coming into view, tail flickering like smoke. “A peculiar question, mhm?” He glanced at the trees as he said this, ruby optics crinkling. He never dwelled on kittenish thoughts, especially when he had his fair share with his younger siblings as the eldest. He had assumed she said this because of the strife running amongst their clan, rogues, and sickness piling for as long as the eye could see. “Would you care to join me on a walk, little lady?” He voiced instead, helm tilted, staring at the other with a ruby gaze. ​

​

thought speech​