- Dec 16, 2023
- 181
- 50
- 28
It had become a nightly ritual before bed. After returning to an (often empty) home, Eggshell would wait for the sun to set in its entirety before amber eyes searched the sky desperately for that ball of pale light, settling on and staring at it for a few minutes before trying to get some sleep. The yolk-stained boy’s recent focus on the moon wasn’t born of wonder at the cosmos, or even an attempt to find calm in an anxious life. Instead, the skittish Scottish Fold had been trying to keep track of the cycles.
Two moons. It would soon be two moons since he’d joined Skyclan, if Eggshell had counted correctly. Two moons, and the coward still hadn’t managed to capture a single piece of prey. Practice had helped, winnowing weak muscles until the whelp resembled something more akin to a wild cat. Silversmoke’s lessons had taught the skittish Scottish Fold the basics of strategy, so now yolk-drenched paws weren’t blindly charging headlong after rats, but it still wasn’t enough.
It felt like every time he got close to catching something, the coward would just freeze up. What should have been action became thought; as Eggshell was overwhelmed with the infinite ways he could proceed and, more importantly, fail.
Padding out of camp as a part of yet another hunting patrol, Eggshell wished he could be positive about what was about to happen, but there were only so many self-affirmations one could say before getting burnt out. Still, he would try his best, even if the boy didn’t believe it was enough. Veering off from the others to get some space, the coward tried to remember his training, staying low to the ground and trying to keep a constantly-racing heart under control.
The cracked egg sniffed the air nervously, even worried about taking a breath and altering anything nearby. However, the sky didn’t come crashing down, and Eggshell allowed himself a small sigh of relief as he picked up the scent of squirrel nearby.
As he stalked forwards, careful to stay downwind, the coward couldn’t help but quake with nerves. Where would it be, up high or down low? Would it be in the open? What if there wasn’t any cover? What if it saw the boy as soon as he got close? What if some other cat was already stalking it, and Eggshell was about to ruin their kill?
As the worries got more and more ridiculous, the whelp tried to ground himself. He halted in a shrub for a few seconds, taking a deep, shuddering breath. So far, this was how all his hunts had gone. Eggshell hadn’t even laid eyes on his quarry yet, but felt like he’d run a marathon with the way his heart was beating out of his chest. Calm, calm, he needed calm. The coward cast his mind back, thinking of happier memories. Weaving with Honeyspash and Howlfire. Talking with Johnnyflame at the Twolegplace. Meeting Edenpaw at the border. Small things. Simple things.
Eggshell opened his eyes and sniffed the air, feeling a bit better. The squirrel was closer now, and the skittish Scottish Fold tried to take things slow and steady. The wind changed, he repositioned. Closer still. There was a small tree ahead, surrounded by shrubs. Even closer. Amber eyes searched with barely-contained haste, eventually locking onto the creature as it sat on a low branch.
He repositioned again, agonizingly slow, trying to get right under the tree and into the ring of bushes. Butter-stained fur brushed the bark, and the boy grit his teeth. This was the worst part, the burst of action. Eggshell had gotten this far a few times before, and had always fallen apart. The coward couldn’t take it slow now, the stalking was over. The squirrel was right overhead, still unaware, and the whelp tried to use every second to calm down.
A yolk-drenched paw touched the bark, deathly quiet as he cycled through memories again. Spending the night in camp, training with Silversmoke, being accepted into Skyclan. Eggshell hung on that last one for a few more moments, remembering that day. Padding through the woods, leaving the twolegplace, but what came first was hopping his fence.
Eggshell had hardly left the safety of his home before trekking to the Skyclan border, so hopping the fence was a bigger deal to him than most other kittypets. It was terrifying those first few times, but he’d done so much since. He’d found people who cared about him, who didn’t mind his presence, who wanted to spend time with him. All that came from clearing that hurdle.
“What is this but another fence to hop?”
The thought echoed in the boy’s mind as quaking claws gripped the bark and propelled him upwards, a rare grin on butter-stained features as he felt prey go limp in his jaws for the first time.
The other members of the hunting patrol would soon find their own kills interrupted as an uncharacteristically joyful shout came from Eggshell, his stutter briefly born of enthusiasm instead of anxiety. “Hey - Hey! I - I did it! I did the thing!” In fact, the Scottish Fold was so overwhelmed that it seemed he couldn’t even find the right words. “S-Squirrel! Yeah, I caught a squirrel!”
