on mind

[samuella]

It's the catnip that brings Springpaw to the forefront of his mind. It doesn't evoke anything in him, the herb's scent, that is, but the memory of the sharp smells exuding from the medicine den catches his memory like prey and toys with it painfully. He remembers how she'd last looked. Bandaged, scarred, silent.

Of course, with Springpaw came Drizzlecloud. The help he never asked for but received for reasons he didn't or refused to understand today. Comradery that was discarded easily, or so it seemed.

It wouldn't've lasted either way, he reasoned. He abandoned the herbal heap left by the creature. Better things could be done in his time. Working through the days. Waiting for the last. A break in monotony.

Anything.

He dreams of snow. Harsh snow and biting sleet and numb paws. A storm to rival the one that briefly quartered him in a hollow with Rabbit. He doesn't care for the cold and dares icicles to drip from his whiskers. He knows it isn't real, and he can't be bothered with some charade.

He's only here for the hills adorned with a silent white blanket and frosted trees. He thinks so, anyway. It's calming despite the furious weather. Because it's quiet or because he'd always liked to bury his white paws in the ice, he didn't know.

He bounded through the heaps of snow with some jovial energy, chasing after snowflakes until his mind got too dizzy.

And thought, again, of Springpaw, as he clambered up a frozen oak. Did she know what a blizzard felt like?

They were the bane of his existence, that was for sure.

@rudolph