- Nov 26, 2022
- 528
- 141
- 43
That nagging ache in Slate's head had finally subsided, at least for the most part. His recollections of recent happenings came as a blur—all he knew was that he woke up each morning to grumble some complaints to Dawnglare or Fireflyglow, chew some bitter herbs, and then fall asleep once more. However, he found that he was finally able to concentrate on something for more than a few moments again. The light didn't pierce his eyes as harshly, nor did the chatter of camp grate his eardrums as they had been. At least his head was on the mend... He could not say the same for his hip, though. The former lead warrior had been reassured that his joint would heal with time and rest, but ever the restless patient, the day when he would be discharged from the medicine den could not arrive soon enough.
Amber eyes dully stare out of the mouth of the den, watching as the late-day sunlight filtered through the pines. Leaf-fall was upon the clans, supposedly, though Slate was obviously unable to decipher much of a difference from his nest. He wished he could be out in the territory feeling the shift in climate for himself... Just doing anything but rotting away in this lumpy, uncomfortable nest. He would rather be sharing his with Orangestar; stars, it had felt so long since he'd slept in the leader's den now.
A dark figure blocks the dappled, sunlit view for a moment as they duck into the medicine den. Slate peers forward, quickly recognizing Primrose's split pelt. Unanticipated emotions well in his chest; he cannot exactly put a name to them, but there is something strange about seeing her again after the fated accident. He is not frustrated or angry with her, though, at least not for the reason that one may assume.
For now, Slate welcomes her presence. The Maine Coon doesn't have very many visitors, nor does he necessarily want any, but Primrose was an exception. He wanted to know how his sister was faring ( she may have told him once or twice before, but of course he couldn't remember ). "Hey," The charcoal-pelted warrior manages a low chuff toward his littermate, his bulky form reclined in his makeshift bedding as comfortably as he could.
Amber eyes dully stare out of the mouth of the den, watching as the late-day sunlight filtered through the pines. Leaf-fall was upon the clans, supposedly, though Slate was obviously unable to decipher much of a difference from his nest. He wished he could be out in the territory feeling the shift in climate for himself... Just doing anything but rotting away in this lumpy, uncomfortable nest. He would rather be sharing his with Orangestar; stars, it had felt so long since he'd slept in the leader's den now.
A dark figure blocks the dappled, sunlit view for a moment as they duck into the medicine den. Slate peers forward, quickly recognizing Primrose's split pelt. Unanticipated emotions well in his chest; he cannot exactly put a name to them, but there is something strange about seeing her again after the fated accident. He is not frustrated or angry with her, though, at least not for the reason that one may assume.
For now, Slate welcomes her presence. The Maine Coon doesn't have very many visitors, nor does he necessarily want any, but Primrose was an exception. He wanted to know how his sister was faring ( she may have told him once or twice before, but of course he couldn't remember ). "Hey," The charcoal-pelted warrior manages a low chuff toward his littermate, his bulky form reclined in his makeshift bedding as comfortably as he could.
