- Apr 30, 2023
- 186
- 76
- 28
Indecision nearly prevents Thriftfeather from returning to camp. He imagines turning around, he imagines that if he were to run, he could catch up with Bluefrost and Vulturekit. It exists as a monumental want—large enough that Thriftfeather thinks it may swallow him. Large enough that its weight on his back slows his shaking steps. His trek back home is slow and unsteady—multiple times he needs to remind himself that he can allow himself to look nervous without looking guilty or frightened. Multiple times he needs to smooth his own face into his best approximation of placid.
The sun is high and warm against his spine by the time he walks into camp with a blue jay swinging from his teeth.
Has anyone noticed Vulturekit's absence yet? Have they found a way to attribute it to Thriftfeather? His long tail quivers behind him and Thriftfeather allows this—it prevents the rest of him from shaking. By a miracle or willpower, Thriftfeather manages to drop the bird and then walk a foxlength away to curl down. He manages this without stumbling over his nervous paws, he manages this without revealing every wrong he has done by expression alone.
"If someone could let Gravelpaw know to meet me later," One of Thriftfeather's white paws moves over the dust in front of him, a small motion as if he is pressing an impression of his pad into the dry ground. His rabbit heart doesn't settle but this is usual, "We can start training once it isn't so hot."
He had practiced the words at least a dozen times before his arrival and, for once, his still-rough voice doesn't waver or break. Thriftfeather reminds himself again and again that he doesn't know where Vulturekit has gone or doesn't know he is missing and that this—the awkward nonchalance—is how he would behave in his ignorance.
//takes place after [this thread]
The sun is high and warm against his spine by the time he walks into camp with a blue jay swinging from his teeth.
Has anyone noticed Vulturekit's absence yet? Have they found a way to attribute it to Thriftfeather? His long tail quivers behind him and Thriftfeather allows this—it prevents the rest of him from shaking. By a miracle or willpower, Thriftfeather manages to drop the bird and then walk a foxlength away to curl down. He manages this without stumbling over his nervous paws, he manages this without revealing every wrong he has done by expression alone.
"If someone could let Gravelpaw know to meet me later," One of Thriftfeather's white paws moves over the dust in front of him, a small motion as if he is pressing an impression of his pad into the dry ground. His rabbit heart doesn't settle but this is usual, "We can start training once it isn't so hot."
He had practiced the words at least a dozen times before his arrival and, for once, his still-rough voice doesn't waver or break. Thriftfeather reminds himself again and again that he doesn't know where Vulturekit has gone or doesn't know he is missing and that this—the awkward nonchalance—is how he would behave in his ignorance.
//takes place after [this thread]
DUSKCLAN WARRIOR ✦ GOLDEN TABBY TOM ✦ 16 MOONS ✦ TAGS
Last edited: