- Jun 7, 2022
- 418
- 150
- 43
It’s very normal to feel afraid of new things. It’s almost exceedingly normal, he thinks, to fear the river that crosses the territory of the clan that he has willingly moved into. It’s so normal. Like, who isn’t scared of the water that’s too murky in some places to see the riverbed, and probably has monsters in it that will not hesitate to bite his legs and tail? He’d have to be, like, crazy not to be wary of the water.
Thank goodness for the stepping stones that span the river and create a path to the island, he thinks. Sure, they’re a little slippery and he’s nearly fallen into the water far too many times for his poor heart to handle, but they serve their purpose well. His paws may get soaked, but he’s not getting wet above the chest if he’s got anything to say about it. The camp that they’ve moved into is surprisingly comfortable, as long as Clay ignores the fact that it’s surrounded by the river on all sides. He hasn’t spent much time outside of the camp, mostly because he’s been trying to avoid crossing the river as much as possible. It must be funny for his new clanmates, to watch a grown-up cat tremble and stumble as he bounces from stone to stone, wincing every time water splashes up to meet him.
Today, though, he’s decided not to venture off the island—he doesn’t need to in order to catch prey, he’s discovered. Fish occasionally swim close enough to the riverbank for a well-timed claw to drag them out of the water, so he’s spent most of his time perched at the water’s edge, staring with wide-eyed focus into the river that he’s still so terrified of.
A fish swims into his line of sight as he’s partially lost in thought, so he admittedly isn’t paying as much attention as he should be. His paw shoots out as though it’s got a mind of its own, and he misjudges the distance needed to catch the fish. Leaning too far forward, he loses his balance and goes toppling headfirst into the water—and the scream he lets out is very dignified, thank you very much.
He only has a moment to think of what could happen in this situation—he can’t swim, he can’t pull himself out of the depths, he can’t keep his head above water—before his paws bump solid ground in the shallow water he’s fallen into. Scrambling, the tom manages to pull all four white-capped paws underneath him and stand, trembling like a newborn fawn, in the shallows. He’s drenched (despite how little water he’s actually fallen into) and his scruffy fur is plastered to his body instead of sticking out everywhere as it usually is.
From shore, he hears laughter from some new clanmate he doesn’t know the name of, and he stares just a bit dumbly at them. "That was embarrassing," he admits, trying to play the whole thing off. He’s still standing ankle-deep in the water, though, and doesn’t even have a fish to show for his efforts.
Thank goodness for the stepping stones that span the river and create a path to the island, he thinks. Sure, they’re a little slippery and he’s nearly fallen into the water far too many times for his poor heart to handle, but they serve their purpose well. His paws may get soaked, but he’s not getting wet above the chest if he’s got anything to say about it. The camp that they’ve moved into is surprisingly comfortable, as long as Clay ignores the fact that it’s surrounded by the river on all sides. He hasn’t spent much time outside of the camp, mostly because he’s been trying to avoid crossing the river as much as possible. It must be funny for his new clanmates, to watch a grown-up cat tremble and stumble as he bounces from stone to stone, wincing every time water splashes up to meet him.
Today, though, he’s decided not to venture off the island—he doesn’t need to in order to catch prey, he’s discovered. Fish occasionally swim close enough to the riverbank for a well-timed claw to drag them out of the water, so he’s spent most of his time perched at the water’s edge, staring with wide-eyed focus into the river that he’s still so terrified of.
A fish swims into his line of sight as he’s partially lost in thought, so he admittedly isn’t paying as much attention as he should be. His paw shoots out as though it’s got a mind of its own, and he misjudges the distance needed to catch the fish. Leaning too far forward, he loses his balance and goes toppling headfirst into the water—and the scream he lets out is very dignified, thank you very much.
He only has a moment to think of what could happen in this situation—he can’t swim, he can’t pull himself out of the depths, he can’t keep his head above water—before his paws bump solid ground in the shallow water he’s fallen into. Scrambling, the tom manages to pull all four white-capped paws underneath him and stand, trembling like a newborn fawn, in the shallows. He’s drenched (despite how little water he’s actually fallen into) and his scruffy fur is plastered to his body instead of sticking out everywhere as it usually is.
From shore, he hears laughter from some new clanmate he doesn’t know the name of, and he stares just a bit dumbly at them. "That was embarrassing," he admits, trying to play the whole thing off. He’s still standing ankle-deep in the water, though, and doesn’t even have a fish to show for his efforts.
[ PENNED BY FOXLORE ]
