bits
Baby Star
Posts: 14
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Post by bits on May 8, 2020 18:26:28 GMT
Salut! This thread is a collection of one-shots and the like that are canon-compliant. Primarily for the purpose of character development or personal story-writing desires, I ask that you don't post here (although you're welcome to read these and chat/plot with me regarding the information held within). Thanks! |
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bits
Baby Star
Posts: 14
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Post by bits on May 8, 2020 20:09:02 GMT
Nomad - Bearcatcher (12 moons of age)
Word Count: 1014
This was Bear's first leaf-fall, in all the ways that mattered. She reached four seasons of age during a moon of coloured trees and chilled breezes, as others prepared either for the long sleep of winter or the scarcity that haunted those remaining awake during leaf-bare. She had never spent a leaf-bare on her own, wandering solely during the warming and heated seasons when her burgeoning hunting skills were able to keep her fed and busy. With the cold on the way, it was easy to overlook the beauty of the autumnal hues bursting forth from the yawning branches of the trees overhead. It was in those some branches that Bear found herself perched, one leg dangling from the bough she had settled on. The ground was a fair distance away, giving a seldom-appreciated peace of mind for the usually hyper-alert brown molly. In addition to having a higher perch from which to survey her surroundings, there was the benefit of having a fair climb between her position and anyone who may have wished harm upon her. This left the nomad with an ability to catch a rare spot of rest.
This was the first leaf-fall that she could hold within her mind, yet another first met with the quiet solitude that she had come to find herself in. It was bittersweet, a mark both of successful survival and a reminder of the empty places she found herself in. The healing claw marks along her chest and face no longer stung the way they had but a half a moon previous, but the familiar ache she felt looking out to the edges of the horizon had yet to abate with time. She found herself with far more appreciation for the quiet of solo travel after her semi-brief and wholly difficult time with the rogues, but the experience had driven home the reality of her situation. She could no longer deem herself lost - instead, as she settled herself in the knowledge that she would have earned another name had she been home, Bear was coming to terms with her status as a loner. It wasn't the life she had pictured herself in - even with her reserved tendencies and natural stoicism, she had been a part of a community no matter her withdrawn personality. Then again, she thought, I never thought I'd be part of a clan either. If Bear's life had taught her anything, it had been that she had an uncanny knack for transience. She could hardly be blamed for the flighty origins arising from the disasters that had started off her young life - and she was thankful for the refuge offered to her and Black of Moonless Night. She couldn't help but cling to her origins, whispered names and shared beliefs kept quiet in the clan with an expectation of assimilation.
But she hadn't foreseen yet another journey, and furthermore a journey taken alone. She wouldn't wish the experience on another, not given the difficulties she had gone through while applying what she had learnt in her apprenticeship cut short. Bear, for all her reservations, had craved the comforts of a known culture and traditions that had displayed the past while calling forth the future. Clinging to the dregs she could remember gave some comfort, even in the face of the unknown and the endless silence that long since enshrouded the growing molly. It stayed with her under the light of the full moon, when her lips moved silently in prayers to the ancestors that the clan would never have recognized. The stars rarely guided her, and she had never been blessed with the ability to interpret omens. But her faith, hidden for the sake of acquiescence and faux-acculturation, was one of the few things that Bear could still lay claim to. The reminiscence brought her eyes upwards, in defiance of the hyper-vigilance that tended to keep her gaze about her in search of potential threats. The blue sky, brushed with the thin wisps of clouds that belied no change in weather, stared back at her. Soon, the skies would darken as the sun finally dipped below the horizon, but there were no signs that spoke to her - not that I would know what to look for, she mused.
Surrounded by the reds and oranges, the brown molly looked away from the bright blue expanse above her, staring out at the beautiful view that stretched out before her. A valley of trees just as full of colour as the one she perched in spanned the foreseeable territory, a flock of large birds taking flight towards their warmer destination. Bear had spent more time staring out at the picturesque lands she had spent the last few days traversing. While she had long learned the importance of determination and vigilance during her youth spent wandering, she found herself finding small moments that soothed the tumult so often accompanying her new life. This moment, the way the world was unfurling into a splotched painting of brittle leaves, shaking free from their ties with the right gust of wind. Leaves dancing both anchored and free to float along the air that carried them. Her blue gaze followed the rustling branches and falling leaves, taking this moment of peace for what it was. Soon she would watch as the sun sank, lighting up the valley with the warm light of the coming dusk. Cradled by the boughs of the sturdy tree below her, she would fall asleep with more security than she had felt in some time, the clear stars above another gentle sign that though she travelled alone, she was not without the wonders of the natural world to remind her of the reasons to continue her journeying.
And, in the moons to come, she would find herself drawn to the stars that streaked across the sky, unknowingly travelling to find herself back with the closest thing she had ever had to a home. Soon enough - but until then, she would rest under the cooling evening skies with the warmth of autumn leaves spanning endlessly before her.
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bits
Baby Star
Posts: 14
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Post by bits on Jun 7, 2020 21:09:50 GMT
Milestone - Prairiedancer (10 moons of age)
Word Count: 781
The water was cool against pale fur as an apprentice took the time to dip his paws and slip across the thin stream. Leafbare was on its way; to the untrained eye, it would seem that the territory was unchanged, but there was a cooler air about. The scaly things throughout the land were rarer, and the few green hues sprinkled throughout the territory were unsaturated and brittle. And if brittle was a theme for the environment, then Prairiepaw felt justified in his own fragility.
He wasn't crying, he refused to cry about this. His mother had long since drilled the importance of strength into his mind and the minds of his siblings. But he wanted to cry, and the burning in his mismatched eyes threatened to develop fat tears like the kind he got used to as a kid. You were such a crybaby, Valleyfog would tease, teetering somewhere on the thin line between familial ribbing and actual criticism. Cactuspaw poked fun when they were younger, until she found him hiding away just for the sake of solitude. She stopped her teasing, trading it out for awkward silence and a dance of misunderstandings that neither of them knew how to stop. Prairiepaw knew that he wasn't as composed as Dustjumper, as fierce as Valleyfog, or as determined as Cactuspaw. He was a little soft-hearted, and he liked to laugh, play, get distracted, and use his over-active imagination. Childish, like his mother would say. Crybaby, like some apprentices would say, with either sharp smirks or friendly acceptance. It wasn't like Prairiepaw didn't know he was predisposed to being a little over-eager, to being bubbly and loud. But sometimes it was too much.
Today hadn't started out well - he didn't sleep very well, Cactuspaw had gently turned down his request to go explore together, and Valleyfog had needled him after finding out he'd showed up late to training. Twice. In two days. But the day had taken an even sharper turn for the worse when he'd overheard a denmate say something about his intelligence - or lack thereof. Summoning his strength, he'd asked them why they would say something like that. It hadn't been a conflict, nor was it truly bullying. Instead, his denmate had smiled and said, "you're a great friend Prairiepaw, but even you know that you're ... a bit slow". The two apprentices had laughed a little, one of them bumping shoulders with Prairiepaw as he laughed along, watching them head out.
It was mean, certainly. Later, she'd come back to apologize if she had hurt his feelings, and Prairiepaw had just laughed and shrugged it off. He knew that people thought he wasn't too smart, and he could understand why - he was easily distracted, and he tended to act silly because it was more fun that way. He remembered having arrived late to a practice patrol with his mentor only to be faced with disappointment from the warrior. "You are one of the quickest learners I've seen - I don't understand why you pretend you're not."
The apricot tabby sat down on the water-spotted rock, taking a few moments to breathe deeply and soothe the ache in his lungs. It wouldn't do to cry about this. He wrapped his tufted tail over his paws, bowing his head to watch the water trickle by. Walk yourself through the situation, he thought, as though you were talking to someone else going through the same thing. He traced his steps, offering mental rebuttals to each of his assumptions.
After some time, he had calmed himself down. The truth was that he did seem a little absent-minded, and he never did anything to dissuade those assumptions. He preferred them over the heightened expectations that accompanied apprentices like his sister, whose hard work and determination meant that she was considered a prospect for great warriorhood. Their clanmates expected far more out of her, and that kind of pressure was suffocating for Prairiepaw - he didn't want that. Choices had to be made, and he had made the choice to be unassuming. He had to accept whatever came of his decisions, which meant grinning in the face of misleadingly friendly put-downs. It was okay to be upset about it, but it was the price to be paid; better the devil you know, after all.
"Prairiepaw!"
He jolted at the sound of his name, head jerking in the direction he was called. How long had he been out here? The sun had inched its way across the sky, bleeding towards early dusk. He blinked away the haze of introspection and called back, hopping to his paws.
"Coming!"
It would be okay - after all, this was what he had chosen.
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