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February 26th, 2024, 01:13 PM
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back & better than ever
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Join Date: Jun 2023
Status: content, excited
Gender: he/they
Bump Policy: any time, I do not care.
Posts: 282
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❝ thinking, "should i wait here or make my way home?" ❞
He didn't know where the sky was. Or the ground, or the trees. The world spun and sputtered and hissed into his mind. Look around, look around! His paws got twisted and turned left and right and up and down. A shiver raced along the stripe down his back, causing the fur to stand as if from an unpleasant and unwanted feeling. Was he wanted? Was he needed? His heart pounded up his throat and threatened to jump out.
But he breathed for a moment, just like... someone... taught him, all those moons ago. He still was, and he wasn't alone.
The kit wasn't so little anymore-
But all he had was him, now. For now, anyway. He'd find those his mind forgot, someday. He promised, but now, he had to keep him warm. And fed. Which was kinda hard when he kept forgetting to feed himself. Routines were everything. What was routines? What was the routine?
Oh, he'd walked off, he supposed, and... the kit.. followed him?
He wasn't sure how they got here.
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February 26th, 2024, 01:24 PM
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steal my heart, its yours
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Join Date: Sep 2021
Status: Without You by Citizen Soldier
Gender: Female(she/her)
Bump Policy: 72 hours
Posts: 6,516
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Re: ❝ thinking, "should i wait here or make my way home?" ❞
@ willooowfeather
The little kit laying on the ground rolls over onto his paws before he blinks awake. He sees his father standing a little ways from him, and the six-moon-old kit watches him before his tiny brow furrows. Seeing that one look in his eyes, he takes a few steps closer to his unpredictable papa and he buts his head against his father's chest.
'Hey, everything will be okay.' He signs as he blinks the sleepy dullness from his eyes before he looks around at the forest around them.
The forest... He has a slight recollection of this place. Or... A place similar to this. Biting the inside of his mouth until the salty, metallic taste of blood floods against his tongue. Everything will be fine. He reminds himself. He gets a flashing memory of a she-cat dropping him off, before walking away.
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February 26th, 2024, 07:46 PM
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back & better than ever
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Join Date: Jun 2023
Status: content, excited
Gender: he/they
Bump Policy: any time, I do not care.
Posts: 282
My Mood:
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Re: ❝ thinking, "should i wait here or make my way home?" ❞
The calico tom purred a halfhearted smile at his kit, though of course he did not remember who this little guy was. His face looked familiar, his scent seemed to have carved a permanent encampment in the barren wasteland of memories within his brain, and that was all Spottedfire needed. This kit was his, or rather, the kit kept following him around like he was his mother, and he supposed he was.
Not that Spottedfire was a she-cat, he felt very much a tom, but... he didn't care. The kit could call him his mama if he wanted, he didn't mind. He felt motherly, in the sense that a mother cares for kits. And Spottedfire was very good at being a mother. He did the basics of keeping the little one clean from nose to tail-tip, kept him fed even if he was self-admittedly not the best hunter - he should be an apprentice by now- and tried to keep him warm and as safe as he could.
He told him stories, what little of them he remembered. Every night as Silverpelt twinkled above them, he'd recount the stories that stuck. Neighbors to the kit's scent.
There's four Clans, right? ThunderClan and... three others- and they're all supposed to live in harmony. I met a cat from... rain...clan once! He was nice! he other cats don't normally like trespassers, but I suppose territory is sacred and not even my confused paws should wander too far. Y'know- that's kinda how my paws work! They know stuff my head doesn't. They know how to hunt, I think.
Even if his kit couldn't understand him, he'd always tell him stories paired with a deep, rumbling purr to lull him off to sleep. And then he'd go to sleep, an ear twitching to keep a listen out for danger. Often, Spottedfire would wake, pulled from slumber to glance around at every little sound.
Once, a large bird with large, golden eyes came and snatched up a mouse that skittered by, as silent as a sneaking warrior's breath. Ever since then, even if the bird was blurred from memory, the warrior felt the pull from sleep more. To watch, to listen, to hide his kit further from moonlight and wrap himself around him tighter.
He was all the company he had, and Spottedfire would never let a bird take his precious little kit.
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