- Feb 15, 2024
- 47
- 10
- 8
cw: description of animal death
Night has fallen by the time Adora realizes she’s alone.
It had been many hours since her mother’s housefolk had left them by the side of the road. That’s her mother’s word for the long black earth that stretches endlessly toward some distant horizon, disappearing into trees and dense shadows. It’s scary to imagine what could be on the other side of the road, especially when the forest is singing around her. Creatures snap through the undergrowth; birds nestle against tree branches, clacking them against one another.
“They’ll be back for us,” the snow-pelted queen had insisted to her daughter, to empty air, as they watched the housefolk shuffle back into the beast’s belly and fly far away, down the road. Adora had nodded. Why would her mother be wrong? The housefolk care for them, love on them, feed them soft strands of meat that swim in liquid. Of course they’ll be back.
That had been when the sun still hung in the sky. That had been before she was alone.
Adora curls against a stiff white body. The warmth has gone out of her mother now. Fur that had been plush and comforting and smelling of milk is now cold and unyielding. The scent that had once wrapped around her and filled her with security is tainted, coppery. The beast with massive black paws had hurt her. There’d been a yowl, a shriek cut too short, and then she’d quivered, blind to Adora, blind to the world, gasping and shuddering, until finally, her body had stilled. Then it had been quiet.
Adora is waiting for her to wake up with all the patience she can muster, but she’s cold. She’s cold, and the forest is scary, and she’s hungry, and why did they have to be in this place? Why had the housefolk left them here? She sniffles against her mother’s pelt, leaving streaks of drying mucus and tear stains.
And then she hears the snap! of paws crunching undergrowth behind her. She stills, her pelt spiking into clumps. Fear rounds her dark brown eyes. She turns hesitantly toward the sound, wondering what new monster has come to feast on her like prey.
Night has fallen by the time Adora realizes she’s alone.
It had been many hours since her mother’s housefolk had left them by the side of the road. That’s her mother’s word for the long black earth that stretches endlessly toward some distant horizon, disappearing into trees and dense shadows. It’s scary to imagine what could be on the other side of the road, especially when the forest is singing around her. Creatures snap through the undergrowth; birds nestle against tree branches, clacking them against one another.
“They’ll be back for us,” the snow-pelted queen had insisted to her daughter, to empty air, as they watched the housefolk shuffle back into the beast’s belly and fly far away, down the road. Adora had nodded. Why would her mother be wrong? The housefolk care for them, love on them, feed them soft strands of meat that swim in liquid. Of course they’ll be back.
That had been when the sun still hung in the sky. That had been before she was alone.
Adora curls against a stiff white body. The warmth has gone out of her mother now. Fur that had been plush and comforting and smelling of milk is now cold and unyielding. The scent that had once wrapped around her and filled her with security is tainted, coppery. The beast with massive black paws had hurt her. There’d been a yowl, a shriek cut too short, and then she’d quivered, blind to Adora, blind to the world, gasping and shuddering, until finally, her body had stilled. Then it had been quiet.
Adora is waiting for her to wake up with all the patience she can muster, but she’s cold. She’s cold, and the forest is scary, and she’s hungry, and why did they have to be in this place? Why had the housefolk left them here? She sniffles against her mother’s pelt, leaving streaks of drying mucus and tear stains.
And then she hears the snap! of paws crunching undergrowth behind her. She stills, her pelt spiking into clumps. Fear rounds her dark brown eyes. She turns hesitantly toward the sound, wondering what new monster has come to feast on her like prey.
- ooc: feel free to be the one approaching! tl;dr there's a kitten curled up by a cat who clearly got hit by a monster. this takes place after the wolves have been driven out.
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Adora, she/her w/ feminine terms.
— “speech”, thoughts, attack
— 2 moons old, ages realistically on the 16th.
— mentored by n/a ; mentoring n/a ; previously mentored n/a.
— thunderclan kit. npc x npc, gen 1.
— penned by Marquette.
lh white she-cat with curled ears and brown eyes. compassionate, righteous, naive, idealistic, self-doubting, self-destructive.