private SONG OF KINMAMON | flintwish

[CYGNET'S CRY]

Forenoon's jurisdiction had lightened somewhat, as clouds trailed along the edges of welkin's canvas, as though the sunburst had scudded away the mires and the greys. Cygnet's Cry thanked whatever spirits may be out there that the heat had let up, as though it released a tightened grip for just the blink of an eye. The humidity of the marshlands seemed unbearable, deafening screech of blistering and pulsing sensation against his flanks and his face. Now, nature had been charitable to recovering man, it seemed. (Why now, of all times? Perhaps it was merely a sign that his time upon this forsaken land came to a close.) Hours had crawled by quite sluggishly, almost like how a procumbent flower lagged upon the ground, an ungraceful and pitifully pithy thing. Although he did enjoy the time spent with Valleysong, even the sprightliest of cats found themselve growing ill in the uncharitable face of monotony. Nomadic heart yearned to travel through the trees once more, or at the very least to get out of Shadowclan. Of course, there would always be the stray Clan cat to marvel at what had effectively been dragged into their territory against any sort of willpower, and keen ears caught upon the shuffling of ferns and milkweeds, almost in the cadence of snow sweeping silent through the verdant. He had simply grown used to it, for he had little other choice. "You and your ilk are quite curious." Cygnet's Cry stated plainly, though his good eye only dragged upon the treaded ground beneath him.

@FLINTWISH ​