- Jan 4, 2024
- 128
- 37
- 28
They'd had time... to adjust, to be comfortable, to feel cared for, to find a place. Deny the wounds that still wrapped so tightly around swollen hearts, swallow past simmering jealousy, drown out the guilt of being vaguely detached from the whirlwind of chaos and loss around them. They had to have friends by now right? It had been long enough they should be able to say that... and most of the time, Doepaw felt like she really did. There were a few particularly sour den-mates and scoffed at her clumsiness, that snapped at each other like vicious turtles named for such behaviors.. but overall, things were.... fine.
Perfectly... average.
Padding through the plush carpet of new spring grass, the fawn molly flicks her tail on occasion to feel for the faintest touch of fur against hers- an improvement in keeping tabs on the space she occupied without desperately biting someone's tail to keep track of them. "Antlerpaw," she hums softly, comforted in the closeness of their relationship as sisters and the shared pain that marked them where motherly love had turned to acid. "Have you met anyone fun on the border patrols," she asks, hoping to start a casual catch-up session, "Or the Gathering? WindClan smelled so bad it was hard for me to pay attention to what they were saying."
Her laugh is breathy, relaxed, almost as if completely unbothered by the heavy shroud of loss that clung to the camp walls they now wandered outside of with the rest of their patrol further ahead. "Do you think they know that pollen is kind of... stinky? It's... uhm.... really earthy...."
@antlerpaw!
Perfectly... average.
Padding through the plush carpet of new spring grass, the fawn molly flicks her tail on occasion to feel for the faintest touch of fur against hers- an improvement in keeping tabs on the space she occupied without desperately biting someone's tail to keep track of them. "Antlerpaw," she hums softly, comforted in the closeness of their relationship as sisters and the shared pain that marked them where motherly love had turned to acid. "Have you met anyone fun on the border patrols," she asks, hoping to start a casual catch-up session, "Or the Gathering? WindClan smelled so bad it was hard for me to pay attention to what they were saying."
Her laugh is breathy, relaxed, almost as if completely unbothered by the heavy shroud of loss that clung to the camp walls they now wandered outside of with the rest of their patrol further ahead. "Do you think they know that pollen is kind of... stinky? It's... uhm.... really earthy...."
@antlerpaw!