"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
abashed did not feel so good. Her little body was wracked with shivers and her nose was dripping. She reached a paw up to rub the drip away and wobbled on her other three feet, yelping softly as she lost her balance and fell. She landed hard on her side with a grunt that ended in a pained little whimper, and the impact knocked her into a coughing fit. Tears welled up in her soft blue eyes, and she curled in on herself, a miserable little ball of black and ghosty-grey that made just a hint of a spotty pattern on her coat.
She wanted to go home. She wanted to curl up in the dark with Momma and snuggle and cry, wanted Momma to lick her face and hold her close and fuss over her and tell her everything was gonna be okay. Probably Momma would yell at her to stop making so much noise with that goddamn cough and tell her to go away though. abashed rested her head on her paw, barely even noticing it was covered in blood from her not-just-runny nose. With another soft little whine, she rubbed her nose against her paw again, and yep, more blood.
Well.
Yep.
She burst into pathetic tears, big awful ones that rolled down her cheeks and spilled onto the ground and turned her into a puddle of sad tears and icky nose blood, too gross for cuddles or snuggles or fussing over anyhow. The crying made her snotty and ickier still, and she sniffled too hard and gagged on the blood and gook that dripped down her throat, and the gagging triggered another coughing fit.
Maybe she should just lay here instead of trying to get home. She didn’t remember how to anyhow, and Momma wouldn’t want her around, spreading her germs and getting her sick too. Plus it sounded like too, too much work to get up and try and find home anyhow. The island sure had gotten big, lots bigger than she remembered, and she was all turned around anyhow. So she closed her eyes and rested her head on her paws and just curled up in a pathetic little ball of grossness where she’d fallen.
((I'm so sorry I'm so icky, pls forgive me and come play anyhow, Loopy. /sob))
It had taken him a few days to regain his bravery after he’d so nearly become a midday snack for the wolves. The wolf-man had saved him, but he’s still not entirely certain her trusts him. He is so stern and angry sometimes, with no room for fun. Pyxis at least is comfortable and safe. Not mommy, that’s for sure. But she kinda reminds him of her sometimes, and he supposes that’s ok.
He’d gotten smarter too though, his trial by wolf teaching him patience. And so he had waited, biding his time.
Until the red woman had gone into labor. He’d been terribly confused, at first. It seems the process is very different from the outside than it is from the inside, so it had taken him a little bit to realize that the babe that had been growing in auntie Pyxis’ belly is about to be born. It had not taken long for the cunning of the predator within him to assert itself, recognizing his golden opportunity at last.
He could go find mommy. Make sure she is safe and protected. He wants momma safe so much.
This time he is much more clever about it. This time, he waits until they are both distracted by the baby’s birth. This time, he waits until he is well away, out of sight and scent of the wolves before her shifts into the feline form that he has so quickly become familiar with. He is nearly to the edge of the kingdom, where the trees become more abundant. He quickly scrambles up one convenient trunk, using the limbs to move from tree to tree. It’s slow and difficult, but at least the wolves couldn’t get him here even if they could find him. He even nearly falls a time or two, but he catches his sharp claws into the bark and manages to pull himself back up each time.
He’s nearly free when a sad little sound catches his attention. He stills, crouching low over his branch as he peers warily around, little tail flicking in agitation. It isn’t until his gaze falls lower, to nearly directly beneath his perch, that he finds the source of the noise however.
For a moment, he simply stares. He hasn’t seen another cat before. But this one is not quite like him. Bigger, for one. And spotted. Still, curiosity eats at him, and it only takes him a moment to decide he could risk descending from his perch. The wolves had to be way behind by now anyway.
Of course, he hadn’t quite considered how he was going to get down. Now that he is, he realizes he may have made a huge mistake. Because, as it turns out, climbing down head first is a very bad idea. He barely catches himself as he nearly tumbles down the trunk with a panicked yelp. For a long moment, he huddles at the lee of the branch, eyeing the ground warily.
Finally, he creeps forward along the branch, until he directly above the large kitten curled up on the ground. He let’s out a squeaky little meow, hoping maybe she’d notice. After another moment, he meows just a little louder, more plaintively. And again, growing louder each time. Eventually she had to notice, right?
abashed was feeling very icky. Her tummy hurt, and her nose was oozing blood and snot and grossness, and getting up felt like about the worst idea in the whole of the world. But a mew even tinier than hers sounded up above her head, and she turned her face up to look. “Hello?” she croaked out, and it turned into a cough so hard it hurt her throat. But the teensy baby mew mewed again, and this time she spotted him up in the tree, stuck and crying for help.
“Oh!” Her bleary eyes widened and she groaned and dragged herself to her feet. “It’s okay! I’ll come save you!” Or she would try, at least. Her cough wracked her body again, and she almost fell right back to the ground. Somehow, though, she managed to stay standing, and she stumbled over to the trunk of the tree. “I’m real good at climbing!” she promised, and it was true enough most days. When her legs weren’t shaking and she wasn’t feeling woozy. But the littlest mew needed help, and what could she do but try?
So she sank sharp little claws into the trunk of the tree and started climbing, doing her best to ignore the way her limbs started shaking almost immediately. Exhaustion had her fighting to cling to the bark less than halfway up, but she pushed herself on, following that sad, lonely little mew. I’m coming, she promised silently, needing every breath too desperately to say it out loud.
But by the time she got to the top, it was all she could do to claw her way onto the branch and collapse into a heap of baby fluff, panting, her whole body shaking. “I dunno if I can get us down yet,” she said, her throat tightening as tears rose to well up in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good helper.” She really wasn’t any good at anything, was she?
So dumb, she knew that too. Should’ve known better than to think she could actually help. She sniffled pathetically, and just gagged on the ick that dripped down the back of her throat when she did. Ugh, she was awful, and she shouldn’t have bothered to try. She squeezed her eyes shut like she could pretend herself away to go hide in the dark somewhere cozy and tight and good for hiding in, tears rolling down her cheeks. “Sorry I’m so useless.”
Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been to have her climb the tree to join him. He watches wide-eyed as she digs her claws into the rough bark of the trunk before hoisting herself weakly upwards. He squirms back along the branch until he reaches the wider base, peering worriedly over the edge as she climbs.
It’s terribly clear she is not well, her breathing raspy and rough and strained as she pulls herself upwards. He lets out a plaintive little squeak, as though that might solve any problems here. He’s made a mistake, he thinks. But it’s too late. She is gasping as she reaches his branch, sides heaving and words thready and weak.
He scrambles backwards, clinging desperately to the wobbling branch as she collapses onto it, a trickle of blood coming from her nose. After a wary moment, he creeps forward once more, sniffing cautiously at the sick little feline. He’s not certain what had made her so sick, but is clearly no good. He wishes then that he’d been braver. Brave enough to climb down the tree, even if it meant falling.
Still, it’s too late for regrets now. Besides, she’d climbed all the way up her for him, and that makes her already a friend.
Abruptly decided, Lupine butts his head against hers, a loud purr rumbling his body as he rubs his cheeks over her ears. After a minute, he licks tentatively. Emboldened, he presses closer, curling against her as he purrs, gently cleaning the tears from her face as he does. Maybe she couldn’t get them down quite yet, but at least he could help her a little.
Now only this seems clear
Lupine
I'm sorry i'm literally the worst D: loopy was hiding for a while :/
