Post by Fawn on Dec 6, 2017 1:28:44 GMT -5
Skunkspots
47 Moons, Warrior-Queen, StoneClan
It took five minutes for Skunkspots to finally leave the nursery, with promises that all would be well while she took a private moment to hunt. By StarClan, she had missed the sunshine and the wind through her fur. It had taken ten minutes to get back into the swing of things. Fifteen to catch her first real piece of prey in close to a full season. The black and white queen wanted to express gratitude to Valiantstride, for taking care of them so diligently, and to Fallenleaf, to let the elderly warrior know that Skunkspots had never forgotten her. She just hadn't been able to visit as much as she used to.
It was a mildly successful bounty; two pieces of prey, one small and fit for one other cat, and the second large enough to feed three. She would give the small one to Duskflower to thank her for kit-sitting Beetlekit and Cicadakit, and the second could be shared with Fallenleaf and Valiantstride. It wasn't often Skunkspots had a plan that satisfied her, but this was one of those rare moments.
A rare moment, on a rare morning where she felt like everything was going to be okay.
Keeping well away from the Sun Stones (it didn't matter who owned it, those rocks had more blood soaked into them than anyplace else in the territory), Skunkspots had buried her second catch when a slender white-and-tabby she-cat hurtled over the semi-flat terrain, tail spiked.
"Skunkspots! It's--It's Beetlekit! A-And Sootpaw, and Fallenleaf!"
Skunkspots' breath vanished; Honeynose's frantic words sounded distant and warped, as if she were speaking to her underwater. Something about a fox. The nursery. Something about poor Beetlekit. Her poor son. Skunkspots ran.
It took ten minutes to reach StoneClan's camp. Five minutes to struggle through the chaotic press of bodies that filled the camp, and to wrap her head around the blood-scents that came from seemingly everywhere. It took a minute for her to find Cicadakit, cowering under Hawkfall and crying out for her.
It took thirty seconds to find out that Beetlekit was in Dawnblossom's den.
Movement came slow yet fast, frantic yet sluggish, as if she were on the verge of collapse and trying to walk and hold all of her cracking pieces together at the same time. Skunkspots was in Dawnblossom's den, aware of Valiantstride, aware of their son's blood staining the front of his chest. Unable to look away from the shivering, miserable heap that was their kit.
It took ten seconds for her to realize he was not how he should be. That something was gone.
Five to realize what it was.
Four to gasp. Three to start shaking. Two to understand.
It took only a second for her heart to crunch inward, any supportive structure, any strength she'd felt she'd once had crumbling into ruin. Skunkspots moaned in wordless horror, her back legs turning to rain, no longer able to support her weight.
His foot. His foot. He smelled like fox. He smelled like blood and pain, and Skunkspots moaned again. Dawnblossom was speaking, but she couldn't hear. A chorus, a hateful, spitting chorus of thoughts had poured into her head, harsh and unkind as crow calls.
You failed. You failed, and your son will die. What kind of a mother leaves her kits?
How can you even call yourself one?
How can you look at Valiantstride, after what you allowed to happen?
You failed. You never deserved this family anyway. Never.
She couldn't breathe. Her breath came out in painful gasps, black spots shifting like dark stars in front of her eyes, dizzy from the weight of everything crashing down.
It was a mildly successful bounty; two pieces of prey, one small and fit for one other cat, and the second large enough to feed three. She would give the small one to Duskflower to thank her for kit-sitting Beetlekit and Cicadakit, and the second could be shared with Fallenleaf and Valiantstride. It wasn't often Skunkspots had a plan that satisfied her, but this was one of those rare moments.
A rare moment, on a rare morning where she felt like everything was going to be okay.
Keeping well away from the Sun Stones (it didn't matter who owned it, those rocks had more blood soaked into them than anyplace else in the territory), Skunkspots had buried her second catch when a slender white-and-tabby she-cat hurtled over the semi-flat terrain, tail spiked.
"Skunkspots! It's--It's Beetlekit! A-And Sootpaw, and Fallenleaf!"
Skunkspots' breath vanished; Honeynose's frantic words sounded distant and warped, as if she were speaking to her underwater. Something about a fox. The nursery. Something about poor Beetlekit. Her poor son. Skunkspots ran.
It took ten minutes to reach StoneClan's camp. Five minutes to struggle through the chaotic press of bodies that filled the camp, and to wrap her head around the blood-scents that came from seemingly everywhere. It took a minute for her to find Cicadakit, cowering under Hawkfall and crying out for her.
It took thirty seconds to find out that Beetlekit was in Dawnblossom's den.
Movement came slow yet fast, frantic yet sluggish, as if she were on the verge of collapse and trying to walk and hold all of her cracking pieces together at the same time. Skunkspots was in Dawnblossom's den, aware of Valiantstride, aware of their son's blood staining the front of his chest. Unable to look away from the shivering, miserable heap that was their kit.
It took ten seconds for her to realize he was not how he should be. That something was gone.
Five to realize what it was.
Four to gasp. Three to start shaking. Two to understand.
It took only a second for her heart to crunch inward, any supportive structure, any strength she'd felt she'd once had crumbling into ruin. Skunkspots moaned in wordless horror, her back legs turning to rain, no longer able to support her weight.
His foot. His foot. He smelled like fox. He smelled like blood and pain, and Skunkspots moaned again. Dawnblossom was speaking, but she couldn't hear. A chorus, a hateful, spitting chorus of thoughts had poured into her head, harsh and unkind as crow calls.
You failed. You failed, and your son will die. What kind of a mother leaves her kits?
How can you even call yourself one?
How can you look at Valiantstride, after what you allowed to happen?
You failed. You never deserved this family anyway. Never.
She couldn't breathe. Her breath came out in painful gasps, black spots shifting like dark stars in front of her eyes, dizzy from the weight of everything crashing down.
When I'm all alone, they show up on their own
Inner demons don't play by the rules
Inner demons don't play by the rules
For Phoenix: If Uncle Ospreywing could look after Cicadakit while Skunkspots hyperventilates and has a mental breakdown, that would be helpful!
Subthread of -> run kitten, run kitten, run run run
