walk on water ˚｡ °. froggy

[Dewdrop]

Anxiety.

It bubbles in her gut, an unsteady tide that she can't seem to quell no matter how hard she tries. It hasn't risen from nowhere, an ever-present thing since she'd been on her own. Then, it had been more akin to gentle waves lapping at the shore. Always there, but much easier to ignore.

Squashing it down does not work anymore. The terrors of the outside world persist and persist. They encroach in on her life, the lives of her kits. Something that was once short-lived drama to her has seeped into each and every one of their lives. The whispers─ Did you hear?

Did you hear─
A kit from the pine group─
Jaws clamped around his neck─

A fullbody shudder. Rogues, she'd wormed her way into a group of rogues. Luck was never on her side, it only led her to the paws of the unkind. A group who attacked who they saw fit, a group who celebrated prey they snatched from the jaws of others. Or was it the kittypets doing the stealing? The fighting? They were both─ they both─

She does not leave camp anymore.

She curls in on herself, tail wrapped snugly around the body of a kit. The rest never wander too far, always within her watchful gaze. If she could keep them all with her like this, never leaving their mother's side, she would.

Glassy eyes stare ahead, seeing everything, and yet nothing at all. Her lips are pressed into a thin line, only a slight crease betraying the frown that threatened to overtake her features. She couldn't let Froggy see her so... shaken. A question lingers on her lips. "Froggy..." Her tail curls around him, tighter still. "What do you think about... here? This... group?"

[ @FROGGY bby <3 ]​

 

[FROGGY]

( ✦ ) There's a storm coming.

He sees it in the tense body language, the angry glares, the anxious whispers. He sees it in his mom, too. She's always been reclusive, but recently, she's confined herself to the nursery. She doesn't want to leave camp, nor does she want him or his siblings to leave the den. Her tail curls tight around him, reminding Froggy of this. He doesn't know if he wants to leave, either. The boy used to have childlike curiosity, a sense of adventure and an eagerness to explore. He'd wanted to learn about the world around him. But the storm brings troubled thoughts. Curiosity has ebbed away into anxiety.

The nursery feels like a prison and a sanctuary all at once.

Dewdrop's voice stirs him, glassy eyes refocusing onto her face. Her lips are drawn into a tight line, and he's reminded of how much he misses his mother's smile. Froggy shifts, uncomfortable, as she questions him on his feelings about Briar's colony. "Um..." The tortie point ducks his head to groom the fur on his chest, buying himself a few heartbeats to think. This has been the only home he's ever known. How could he say for sure how he feels about it if he doesn't know what the rest of the world has to offer?

But I don't know doesn't seem sufficient enough.

When Froggy finally returns his mom's gaze, his voice sounds impossibly small as he says, "Everyone here... They're all so tense and angry." I feel like I can't breathe when I'm around them. Their anger is suffocating. "Will it always be like this?"​

 

[Dewdrop]

She tilts her head. Acknowledgment. It'd only be foolish of her to hope that he wouldn't notice. Kits lacked experience, but their emotions were still in tact. Childlike innocence could not soften the blow of any harsh upbringing.

Her face softens, eyes gazing kindly at a face that was so similar to hers. Her son. Young and desperate to impress. "I'm sorry," her words come out gently. She'd never intended this. Never thought she would find herself in a situation like this. "It wasn't so bad before. I know it's... scary."

Will it always be like this? She isn't sure how to answer. The air the swamp cats carried with them, to an extent, it's always been there. But never quite so suffocating, never quite so nerve-wracking. A crescendo that refuses to climb back down. Something is coming, but she does not know what. I hope so, is what she thinks. But such an answer would bring no amount of comfort, she knows.

There's a heavy breath from her nose. A huff, before she curls closer to Froggy. She presses her nose to his cheek, keeps it there for a few moments. "Things will get better," she tells him. Perhaps not on their own, no. These cats held startling amounts of pride and aggression. In a way, she could relate, but she supposes the difference is in where their priorities lie. She would not have her children involved in any wars. Not now, not ever. "I'll make sure of it."​