- Feb 8, 2023
- 74
- 39
- 18
One-by-one had the sickly squatters left the badger set in their dust, the keys to their salvation coming in the form of fuzzy-stemmed flowers—all the while Moorpaw carried on withering away, coughing, wheezing, and not getting any good sleep neither. Wolfsong's medicine only served to numb her gums and make her drool all over the white paws curled meekly into her chest.
Continuing to decline as her clanmates healed, the profane seeds sown by her mother began to bear a bitter fruit. Did StarClan truly not want her to recover? Was she fated to a disgusting, disease-ridden end, synonymous to her father's? The only companions she kept in quarantine were these thoughts, like gunk in the corners of her skull, and in all their repulsive glory, she'd found it increasingly troublesome to scrub them out.
But when the sun kissed the horizon this morning and seeped into the den's dim recesses, Moorpaw stirred with a vitality that'd been dormant for moons. She's revived and alive, and the untamed energy flooding through her muscles brought her to all fours within her first waking moments.
As of today, the air passageways inside her chest are slime-free. Like, officially! Officially, officially! Stars, how excited she is to return to camp and claim the warrior name that she's rightfully owed. She'll run circles around them all!
The war-worn medicine cat needn't reach the badger set on his daily outing—Wolfsong's cerulean gaze would settle upon an apprentice, one waist-high in the moorgrass, and fiercely demanding that he bring her home.
"Hey, hey, heyyyyyy!" hollers Moorpaw, lips curved generously in a beaming smile. Having breached through the gorse wall, her hungry eyes now sweep over the sand-swept expanse. "I'm not dying anymore! Three cheers for me!" Reflecting on the passed time since she's last stood in camp widens her grin tremendously. Like, crap, she'd given the ShadowClan slimeballs a visit before seeing her home again.
Batting her baby greens, she cants her head, patiently awaiting some offhanded quip from Snakehiss or something or other.
Continuing to decline as her clanmates healed, the profane seeds sown by her mother began to bear a bitter fruit. Did StarClan truly not want her to recover? Was she fated to a disgusting, disease-ridden end, synonymous to her father's? The only companions she kept in quarantine were these thoughts, like gunk in the corners of her skull, and in all their repulsive glory, she'd found it increasingly troublesome to scrub them out.
But when the sun kissed the horizon this morning and seeped into the den's dim recesses, Moorpaw stirred with a vitality that'd been dormant for moons. She's revived and alive, and the untamed energy flooding through her muscles brought her to all fours within her first waking moments.
As of today, the air passageways inside her chest are slime-free. Like, officially! Officially, officially! Stars, how excited she is to return to camp and claim the warrior name that she's rightfully owed. She'll run circles around them all!
The war-worn medicine cat needn't reach the badger set on his daily outing—Wolfsong's cerulean gaze would settle upon an apprentice, one waist-high in the moorgrass, and fiercely demanding that he bring her home.
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"Hey, hey, heyyyyyy!" hollers Moorpaw, lips curved generously in a beaming smile. Having breached through the gorse wall, her hungry eyes now sweep over the sand-swept expanse. "I'm not dying anymore! Three cheers for me!" Reflecting on the passed time since she's last stood in camp widens her grin tremendously. Like, crap, she'd given the ShadowClan slimeballs a visit before seeing her home again.
Batting her baby greens, she cants her head, patiently awaiting some offhanded quip from Snakehiss or something or other.