- Jun 8, 2022
- 13
- 10
- 3
i've been patient and steadfast and steady ☁☁
/small trigger warning for mentions of blood + death
A whispering fog clouded his vision, though these shaded mornings Rocky found it difficult to separate the real mists from those that smoked his mind. Almost a moon had passed, and her scent had faded along with it. Mourning felt foreign- he would not acknowledge it. Instead, the ashen tom lingered at the edges of camp, watching his clanmates pass by as always. The normalcy he craved was lost, cracked beneath the weight of that one night. So quickly life had fallen to ruin. Half of their clutch of cats in the marsh had left too, even his beloved sister Foxy. She always knew what to say, what he needed to be said. Dully he had been informed of the star-flecked cats and their message but he hadn't had the energy to truly listen. He hadn't even given it enough thought to decide if it was believable. It only meant more hollow nests.
Rocky hated thinking about things, he liked doing them. Nights slipped by slim and thoughtless; days a weary blaze of washed-out sunlight that ran into each eagerly. And during none of them was he doing. But what was there to do? Tidy a nursery that no longer held his Mama, wander outside to be greeted with her grave? Grass shoots now grew atop the mound, the soil still so freshly tilled in his memories. The narrow green spears stung him.
He shivered, splitting the thin coat of tepid air that had gathered around his stone-still pelt. Drawing in air thick with the scent of moss and moisture, the tom stood on unsteady limbs. Rocky made eye contact with the prey pile, aware that it had been almost two nights since he properly ate. Not even a sigh left him as dusty paws drifted forward. It was only when a snag met his skin that he came to a disoriented halt and his slate stare turned to his side. A thick, grasping bramble wound around his back leg. Barbs plucked at flesh, pricks of mulberry seeping into his dishevelled pelt. Silver tufts were left across the wall he had brushed against, a sure sign of his clumsy pathing.
"Sorry." The hushed mumble was muffled against his chest, snout dipped in shame. Rocky's round eyes haplessly searched for a helping paw. He couldn't muster the courage to do it himself.
/sorry rip he's in his emo phase. tagging @BONEJAW to give him a bump in the right direction but no need to wait!