![Spotflare [in.]](/data/avatars/l/0/695.jpg?1665349871){kind=avatar}
- Oct 9, 2022
- 16
- 0
- 1
He couldn’t stop pacing.
Four moons old. They would be turning four moons old tomorrow, and Howling Wind would want them apprenticed that early? They were hardly old enough to understand the grief Spotflare had burdened on his heart every time he woke up in the morning. He still had yet to grow used to sleeping in the warriors den, but that meant leaving his kits to sleep all on their own in the nursery. They had already lost their mother; why must he sleep so far away from them?
His stomach sank like a stone at the thought of his kits all huddled alone in their nest, and he swallowed hard, continuing to pace in a small clearing not too far from the camp entrance. Spotflare’s fur fluffed itself up at odd angles and his claws dug so harshly into the dirt that they were catching on the little roots, leaves and sticks littered about on the forest floor. One claw had just been torn, but he barely paid it any attention, ignoring the slight sting in his paw.
The last thing he wanted was to be separated from his kits, but separated he was already. After having the Clan code and traditions explained to him, Spotflare felt no better than he did prior, instead worrying himself away under the watching moonlight broken up and scattered across the undergrowth.
What if something happened to them? Would it have been better to stay at the barn and let my kits be handled by the twolegs? No—they would’ve hurt them, or ripped them away from me and given off to other twolegs… But they aren’t ready for apprenticeship, not this early! It’s too early for them! They could get killed by a fox or a badger or—or heavens forbid a snake or another cat! Patchkit’s too trusting, Spicekit would run straight into trouble, and Cherrykit could let other cats walk all over him, and their mentors might not even be kind! What kind of mentors would they even have? What kind of father allows his kits to do something like this so early? What kind of father am I—!
With a grieving, anxious-ridden howl loud enough for any cat close enough to hear, Spotflare crumbles to his trembling knees against a tree, claws dug into the trunk to hold himself steady.
”I’m sorry, Valiance, I’m so terribly sorry for leaving you! Please, wherever you may be now, tell me if I’m doing something wrong! Tell me you forgive me!” His voice chokes and fades.
The forest remained unresponsive except for the soft tweeting of a lonesome wren, sitting high up in the moonlit branches. Spotflare buries his head into the trunk and lets a quivering sob finally escape his throat.
@HOWLING WIND
Four moons old. They would be turning four moons old tomorrow, and Howling Wind would want them apprenticed that early? They were hardly old enough to understand the grief Spotflare had burdened on his heart every time he woke up in the morning. He still had yet to grow used to sleeping in the warriors den, but that meant leaving his kits to sleep all on their own in the nursery. They had already lost their mother; why must he sleep so far away from them?
His stomach sank like a stone at the thought of his kits all huddled alone in their nest, and he swallowed hard, continuing to pace in a small clearing not too far from the camp entrance. Spotflare’s fur fluffed itself up at odd angles and his claws dug so harshly into the dirt that they were catching on the little roots, leaves and sticks littered about on the forest floor. One claw had just been torn, but he barely paid it any attention, ignoring the slight sting in his paw.
The last thing he wanted was to be separated from his kits, but separated he was already. After having the Clan code and traditions explained to him, Spotflare felt no better than he did prior, instead worrying himself away under the watching moonlight broken up and scattered across the undergrowth.
What if something happened to them? Would it have been better to stay at the barn and let my kits be handled by the twolegs? No—they would’ve hurt them, or ripped them away from me and given off to other twolegs… But they aren’t ready for apprenticeship, not this early! It’s too early for them! They could get killed by a fox or a badger or—or heavens forbid a snake or another cat! Patchkit’s too trusting, Spicekit would run straight into trouble, and Cherrykit could let other cats walk all over him, and their mentors might not even be kind! What kind of mentors would they even have? What kind of father allows his kits to do something like this so early? What kind of father am I—!
With a grieving, anxious-ridden howl loud enough for any cat close enough to hear, Spotflare crumbles to his trembling knees against a tree, claws dug into the trunk to hold himself steady.
”I’m sorry, Valiance, I’m so terribly sorry for leaving you! Please, wherever you may be now, tell me if I’m doing something wrong! Tell me you forgive me!” His voice chokes and fades.
The forest remained unresponsive except for the soft tweeting of a lonesome wren, sitting high up in the moonlit branches. Spotflare buries his head into the trunk and lets a quivering sob finally escape his throat.
@HOWLING WIND
A CANDLE IN THE NIGHT IS MY ONLY WAY OUT
