- Oct 9, 2022
- 35
- 2
- 8
The barest sunlight that manages to pierce the dim wetland hurts his eyes as he slips out of the bramble defenses, ever silent. In his mouth is a folded up leaf where something colorful slides inside. The farther he steps into the marsh, the more his sour expression eases into a vague apathy. A terrible, rotten mood has encapsulated the wallflower since his mother returned from the gathering. He would give them all a piece of his mind and his claws, if only he could. He doesn't agree with Bonejaw's decision either but there's nothing he can argue against it- in the most literal sense of that sentiment. All he could do was nose a bundle of herbs her way and hope she may reconsider or that Starclan might do something useful for once and help her. His real parents are there now supposedly so maybe they can assist...
It's hard not to think about them as he passes one of the pine trees and finds his amber gaze crawling up the bark. He can't remember what tree it was exactly that they tried to escaped the fox from (he was too young) but it matters little when it's thankless. Shadowclan lost two good warriors that day and he his voice but he's quick to chase it from his mind. It's not like he's interested in hunting down blood stains. Besides, the young cat had a long time to wallow in the past in this forced silence and now he's only focused on the future. The orche eyes set in his raccoon-like face seem to spark back to life and he forces an easy smile onto his maw. It's fake, but it'll do. Lost in his thoughts, Fogpaw settles along a pile of pine needles to listen to the bustle of camp. His stomach churns with nervous energy; the fear of being misunderstood, or worse, not understood at all looming over him but he doesn't retreat.
Instead, Fogpaw tries to funnel his frustrations into something small but pleasant. He can't communicate with his clanmates in the traditional sense any longer but he can do something kind. On an errand, he'd found some flowers that weren't good for much but to look at. Unfurling the broad leaf, Fogpaw reveals the menagerie of colorful blooms only good for fur or decorating nests. Shadowclanners aren't exactly known for such superfluous things but it doesn't mean they're made of stone. Most of them are weeds anyways but they're still pretty to him. Unsure how to announce his intent, Fog thumps his paw heavily into the ground then tilts his chin toward a nearby clanmate. He leans down, nosing forward the florals and holding in a sneeze.
/tldr; only the last paragraph
It's hard not to think about them as he passes one of the pine trees and finds his amber gaze crawling up the bark. He can't remember what tree it was exactly that they tried to escaped the fox from (he was too young) but it matters little when it's thankless. Shadowclan lost two good warriors that day and he his voice but he's quick to chase it from his mind. It's not like he's interested in hunting down blood stains. Besides, the young cat had a long time to wallow in the past in this forced silence and now he's only focused on the future. The orche eyes set in his raccoon-like face seem to spark back to life and he forces an easy smile onto his maw. It's fake, but it'll do. Lost in his thoughts, Fogpaw settles along a pile of pine needles to listen to the bustle of camp. His stomach churns with nervous energy; the fear of being misunderstood, or worse, not understood at all looming over him but he doesn't retreat.
Instead, Fogpaw tries to funnel his frustrations into something small but pleasant. He can't communicate with his clanmates in the traditional sense any longer but he can do something kind. On an errand, he'd found some flowers that weren't good for much but to look at. Unfurling the broad leaf, Fogpaw reveals the menagerie of colorful blooms only good for fur or decorating nests. Shadowclanners aren't exactly known for such superfluous things but it doesn't mean they're made of stone. Most of them are weeds anyways but they're still pretty to him. Unsure how to announce his intent, Fog thumps his paw heavily into the ground then tilts his chin toward a nearby clanmate. He leans down, nosing forward the florals and holding in a sneeze.
/tldr; only the last paragraph