- May 7, 2023
- 195
- 29
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Camp comes to awash in sights and smells. Sedgepounce keeps a paw to his face, sees his feet press solidly into the scrubby green earth, and feels himself float somewhere behind his body. Scorchstorm fills the gap at his shoulder. Dutiful, like a knight—hovering just on the border of suffocation. Together they duck through the gorse tunnel and into camp proper. As the light at the end of the tunnel overtakes them, he blinks bleary-eyed at the familiar terrain and wonders: How did we get here? He remembers the Sandy Hollow. He remembers getting hit, staring at Scorchstorm like an idiot while she stared back. She looked like an owl, he'd thought. Everything after is a greasy mosaic of nothing altogether tangible.
Sedgepounce would frown if he weren't afraid that any movement in his face might cause his whole undereye to slough off. As it were, he just tries to pay more attention.
Cats around them have started to stir closer. He glances across them, searches for Cottonsprig's kind, round face in a sea of clanmates. Is she here? He needs to see her. She could be out. His attention cuts toward the medicine den. He'll wait there for her if she's gone.
Blood has turned the white of his fur red. He can feel it on his face, his paw. The wound doesn't hurt at all, though, so it's probably better than it looks. It's a distant, foggy feeling—it reminds him of the Twolegplace. Like clockwork, whenever his wounds would act up, one of the twolegs would corner him in his cage and stick him with something sharp. Then everything would go all fuzzy, and the pain would fade.
This is a little different. Twoleg captivity exhausted him. Right now, Sedgepounce feels like he could lap the moor three times over if he had to. He's abuzz with energy. It makes the paw latched to his injury tremble and shake.
They'll hobble toward the medicine den, but Sedgepounce hazards a glance at the flame-furred molly first. All that animalistic rage which sent her claws across his face has abated by now, leaving behind a Scorchstorm that's small with concern and regret. He bumps her shoulder. Tries to meet her eye. "It's okay," he says for the both of them. And though he doesn't smile at her, his eyes are clear with earnest.