FAITHKIT
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A BOUQUET OF BRAMBLES
A deep breath escapes you as a cold breeze ruffles against your pelt. It almost threatens to seep into your rib cage, though you hold strong with a suppressed shiver and nothing beyond a sniff from your damp nose. Oh, that wouldn't do at all. Pressing a paw delicately to it to dab at the residual snot, it wouldn't do to be seen sniveling when you're supposed to be moving. Hesitantly your eyes drift to your siblings, taking in if the nerves have set in for them yet. Not that you think either would truly show that if so, they always seemed determined to appear stronger if you were around. Would that change now? There's a lot more cats their age in the nursery than there is in the medicine cat den, maybe they wouldn't feel duty bound to hang around you for so long? The feeling grips your chest, sinking pinprick claws into the flesh of your heart. The blood it leaves in it's wound pulls you down further into a mental spiral, the idea of losing them too was too great. Maybe it would be for the best to feign illness, though you doubt you would be a good enough actor to slip by Rowanpaw.
"It seems loud" you whisper, not quietly, to one of your siblings. You had been inside there before, around it even more frequently. It seemed different now you supposed, earlier it was something you could escape from with ease. A wilting glance is given to the vague area of land behind you, distantly looking for Loonstar or her den but without any real commitment. You didn't particularly have the heart to be seen looking for protection elsewhere either. Appearances would probably go a long away, you highly doubt the first impression the clan has about you is a positive one. Not negative either... just sympathetic and you grow tired of pity.
Though maybe some pity would be nice... Parting from your brothers sides you shuffle a little closer to Rowanpaw. "Could I bring parts of my old nest?" You're not sure your true desire would be allowed, any herbs are important for the clan. Unfortunately they also feel like home to you, you could settle for old moss though. Surely the smell must have embedded themselves in there, even for your dulled senses. Is that considered uncouth though? Surprisingly you find that you don't actually care about this being a potential social taboo. The question in some parts serves as a way to prolong the inevitable, you're convinced you could question your family for hours as opposed to settling down in there.
"It seems loud" you whisper, not quietly, to one of your siblings. You had been inside there before, around it even more frequently. It seemed different now you supposed, earlier it was something you could escape from with ease. A wilting glance is given to the vague area of land behind you, distantly looking for Loonstar or her den but without any real commitment. You didn't particularly have the heart to be seen looking for protection elsewhere either. Appearances would probably go a long away, you highly doubt the first impression the clan has about you is a positive one. Not negative either... just sympathetic and you grow tired of pity.
Though maybe some pity would be nice... Parting from your brothers sides you shuffle a little closer to Rowanpaw. "Could I bring parts of my old nest?" You're not sure your true desire would be allowed, any herbs are important for the clan. Unfortunately they also feel like home to you, you could settle for old moss though. Surely the smell must have embedded themselves in there, even for your dulled senses. Is that considered uncouth though? Surprisingly you find that you don't actually care about this being a potential social taboo. The question in some parts serves as a way to prolong the inevitable, you're convinced you could question your family for hours as opposed to settling down in there.
