- Mar 5, 2025
- 6
- 0
- 1
//tw just in case: body dysmorphia
"Anyone up for moss ball?"
It was the perfect suggestion for such a perfect day. The sun was brighter than ever and the warmth emitting from it was not too hot and not too cold. At this rate, the stream surrounding camp was going to warm up any day now. It was literally the perfect newleaf day. Moss ball seemed like the perfect activity to pass the time, just as the other kit announced. If only Houndkit had thought about it sooner. With a purr, he raced to the mouth of the nursery where a small crowd of kits were beginning to form, just as eager to play moss ball and giggling their approval. Houndkit pushed and stumbled his way into the crowd, clumsily knocking into the other kits around him who once purred in excitement now scowled and huffed their annoyances.
"Can I play?" Houndkit inquired with thrill. Of course they wouldn't say no. After all they were a few moss ball players short, so Houndkit believed it was an open invitation. Then, he heard snickers of laughter after his question from the other kits. Houndkit began to wonder, had he said something they found funny? He scanned the crowd only to notice they were staring at him with smirks.
"Sure you can, if you can catch up!"
In a blink of an eye, Houndkit watched as the other kits began racing out the nursery and into the clearing of camp. Houndkit was taken aback and a little dumbfounded, wondering what exactly they meant by that snide statement. Either way, Houndkit's determination was unwavering. He bucked his hindlegs to give himself a leaping start and landed on his big, unsure paws. Only to noticed that the other kits were faster than him, and that their stamina was higher than his as within just a couple of sprints he was panting already. Still, he didn't quit even if he could see that the other kits were out-preforming him. Houndkit didn't care, he just wanted to have a fun day playing moss ball with his peers. That's all he wanted. Yet as he continued to chase after the others so far behind, stumbling over his paws and landing flat on his face and skidding against the mud, he begins to think that a fun day was too much to ask for. And when he tried to scramble back to his paws through the aching of his round body from the fall, he could see the moss ball kits looking over at him and laughing. This was about his weight, wasn't it?
He was back where he was at the beginning of the day--at the mouth of the nursery after angrily stomping his way back to isolate himself from the laughter. He was staring at them while they chased each other and played so carelessly as if they didn't significantly hurt Houndkit's feelings. Everything was fine and normal for them, but what about him? Why does he have to be the butt of the joke, just because he was a little bigger than them? Houndkit's face was distorted in spite, his ears flat and his head hanging low. He refused to let himself become saddened by the attitude of his peers. Yet deep down, he couldn't hide it, and it manifested in the form of two or three tears dripping down his cheeks. It was unbelievable to him that his weight could affect whether or not the other kits would let him play moss ball. As he watched from afar, and after what had just unfolded, he still found himself longing for a mouse from the fresh kill pile to cheer him up.
"Anyone up for moss ball?"
It was the perfect suggestion for such a perfect day. The sun was brighter than ever and the warmth emitting from it was not too hot and not too cold. At this rate, the stream surrounding camp was going to warm up any day now. It was literally the perfect newleaf day. Moss ball seemed like the perfect activity to pass the time, just as the other kit announced. If only Houndkit had thought about it sooner. With a purr, he raced to the mouth of the nursery where a small crowd of kits were beginning to form, just as eager to play moss ball and giggling their approval. Houndkit pushed and stumbled his way into the crowd, clumsily knocking into the other kits around him who once purred in excitement now scowled and huffed their annoyances.
"Can I play?" Houndkit inquired with thrill. Of course they wouldn't say no. After all they were a few moss ball players short, so Houndkit believed it was an open invitation. Then, he heard snickers of laughter after his question from the other kits. Houndkit began to wonder, had he said something they found funny? He scanned the crowd only to notice they were staring at him with smirks.
"Sure you can, if you can catch up!"
In a blink of an eye, Houndkit watched as the other kits began racing out the nursery and into the clearing of camp. Houndkit was taken aback and a little dumbfounded, wondering what exactly they meant by that snide statement. Either way, Houndkit's determination was unwavering. He bucked his hindlegs to give himself a leaping start and landed on his big, unsure paws. Only to noticed that the other kits were faster than him, and that their stamina was higher than his as within just a couple of sprints he was panting already. Still, he didn't quit even if he could see that the other kits were out-preforming him. Houndkit didn't care, he just wanted to have a fun day playing moss ball with his peers. That's all he wanted. Yet as he continued to chase after the others so far behind, stumbling over his paws and landing flat on his face and skidding against the mud, he begins to think that a fun day was too much to ask for. And when he tried to scramble back to his paws through the aching of his round body from the fall, he could see the moss ball kits looking over at him and laughing. This was about his weight, wasn't it?
He was back where he was at the beginning of the day--at the mouth of the nursery after angrily stomping his way back to isolate himself from the laughter. He was staring at them while they chased each other and played so carelessly as if they didn't significantly hurt Houndkit's feelings. Everything was fine and normal for them, but what about him? Why does he have to be the butt of the joke, just because he was a little bigger than them? Houndkit's face was distorted in spite, his ears flat and his head hanging low. He refused to let himself become saddened by the attitude of his peers. Yet deep down, he couldn't hide it, and it manifested in the form of two or three tears dripping down his cheeks. It was unbelievable to him that his weight could affect whether or not the other kits would let him play moss ball. As he watched from afar, and after what had just unfolded, he still found himself longing for a mouse from the fresh kill pile to cheer him up.