Leave what's heavy, what's heavy behind.
If your heart won't move, find a reason why.
If your tears don't fall, it's not that you're dry
You just forgot what it's like to cry.
.
Frecklekit turned his gaze toward his sister for a heartbeat, the tip of his tail flicking before his attention shifted to Faithkit, who had padded closer with that careful politeness of hers. She asked if she could join in, requested, really. Frecklekit saw no reason to refuse. She was a kit, too, wasn't she? And Tenebrouspaw had said this lesson was for kits. He gave her a faint nod, almost an unspoken permission, before his forest-green eyes drifted back toward the apprentice.
Then came the words that caught him off guard.
He blinked when Tenebrouspaw said he would be her partner. Her partner. Not one of the others. For a moment, his chest tightened, and he found himself staring down at the bird between them. The feathers were still smooth, gleaming faintly in the filtered light, easier to look at than her eyes. He hadn't expected to be paired with an apprentice. Did it mean something? Was it just a gesture? His mind chased possibilities he couldn't answer. A quiet breath escaped him. Don't overthink it. He forced himself to listen, ears pricked forward, eyes following Tenebrouspaw's movements as she spoke. She was explaining something about the feathers, about how to start. Frecklekit's gaze dropped back to the bird. He knew feathers, he'd seen them scattered around nests, seen kits play with them before... He had played with them once too, before his father had scolded him. He hadn't done it since.
The what? His brow furrowed slightly, confusion flickering in his expression as he glanced up at her, head tilting. Then came the clarification, that the feathers the bird would lose easily could be nudged free, gently, without force. Feathers that would come loose anyway... He snorted softly through his nose, the sound almost a sigh, and blinked down at the bird again. Nudge around... Or shake them. He lifted a paw, hesitated for a heartbeat as he thought through the motion, then finally reached forward. His touch was tentative, almost delicate, as he grasped the thrush's tail feathers and began to nudge them, slow and uncertain at first. Then, gathering a little confidence, he gave the bird a light shake, hoping quietly and a tad desperately that he'd understood what she meant.
The feathers shifted, just a few drifting loose. Frecklekit's ears flicked forward, and something subtle passed through his expression, not quite pride, not quite relief, but a soft flicker of satisfaction. For once, maybe, he hadn't done it wrong.
Speech, thoughts/emphasis
4 MOONS
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THUNDERCLANNER
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