It was a strange face to see in the medicine cat den
—when a cat usually thought of a comforting, caring individual, their first thought usually was not
Galerunner. It understood this fervently, sickeningly
—there was no comfort to be had in this monster, no cooing words of encouragement like the others. And yet, and yet... His pallid frame fit in the medicine cat den, drawn in by the cries of his fellow, and he set himself up as a strange guardian over the weak mother. Her cries of pain did not dissuade him, did not terrify him, and he watched, as he usually did, and as he had done before.
It watched with those strange wide eyes of him as other cats trickled in as well, ones that he only faintly recalled. It was... an odd sight, really. Gale almost expected himself to be the only strange body in the nursery, but then again the birth of Wavesong's latest litter was not the quietest phenomena either... And yet, the pale lynxpoint found himself staring at the others, as though it were a silent defiance for him to be there. He had been denied once before, and he was nothing if not a cat that learned from such rotten mistakes.
With a twitch of his whiskers, the tom leant down to inspect the little things that had been produced. They were small, impossibly so
—surely he had not been this way before, mewling and wriggling and squirming like some desperate worm? Desperate for warmth, for
love.... The tom let out a gentle hum to himself as he thought, nudging a small brown-and-white body with a muted sense of curiosity. Yes, perhaps these kits would know love, and it would satiate them, and they would never wish for anything more than that... It was a nice thought, unrealistic as it may be, and for a moment he reveled in it. It was warm, sweet, and felt like the sun.
Heatherfield's words piqued his interested, though, and he tilted his head at her quietly as she grimaced. It took him a moment of quiet consideration, and this moment was filled not by his own words, but by the words of another. Lilacbird, a somewhat unfamiliar face to him, had spoken something sweet.
"...Or perhaps a sense of necessity." He hummed thoughtfully.
"A need to exist, and to let others exist. And some may be born with that want, to be more than." He looked back over the exhausted she-cat, someone who he would consider a friend. At least, there was a sense of understanding there between the two
—that unnamed strangeness in him was seen, of course, but accepted.
"...But no matter the origins, they will know love." It tilted his head, vibrant eyes sliding from Heather's face to the faces of the little kits near his paws. Three thus far, not unlike his own birth...
"And for that gift, I commend you. It is not an easily given one."
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local white boy here to speak philosophy over a woman giving birth
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Galerunner
✦—Riverclan Pearl Diver | 14 Moons
✦—He/They/It
✦—"SPEECH", 'THOUGHTS', ATTACK
✦—A fluffy high white lynx point with curled ears and deep blue eyes
#87878E #BAB2AC
