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Ravenpaw was weighed down by rocks of guilt. Her sister’s bird swooped above her head, wheeling above the thick ferns as they guided her back to Redwoodclan’s camp, but she could hardly find it in herself to look. She hadn’t meant to cause any trouble for the calico, she swore, but this was what she got for being a fool. She’d let the person who was quite possibly the coolest cat ever down. It’d been ages since she stood next…
CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of murder and genocide, coercion
Talons clicking against the marble flooring of the palace, Tomten navigated his way through the columns and corridors with a practiced sort of grace, one developed by the time he’d spent serving the queen and likewise the kingdom. Like well-worn migration patterns, the flooring felt familiar under his talons – almost comforting in the face of the dark clouds of emotion that often hung around the palace, namely in the form of stress. Today’s tension was so palpable that it may as well have been a storm.
CONTENT WARNING: Mentions of genocide
Teaching Ravenpaw to hunt turned out to be far more difficult than Chirpbreeze ever could’ve imagined. The black blur through the trees did not appear to understand “slow down” or “stop.” It was like chasing shadows blown about in the wind. She envied how easily Mew cruised along just a tail length or so above her, feathers brushing lightly against the ferns that covered the ground. “Ravenpaw! Ravenpaw!” Stars above, if that kid had a hunting accident like she’d had…
Her voice rang clear as bells across the landscape, as melodic and confident as Finner’s music, beautiful and haunting as kulning ringing over the fields and mountains.
The lake had turned a much colder temperature than Peggy considered swimmable, so here she was with her girlfriend sitting in a kiddie pool with several cans of soda and miscellaneous other snacks, pretending that they were able to actually throw a pool party. It must’ve been a strange sight; two grown women sitting in a comically small pool with their knees pulled up to their chests, like something out of a cartoon. “I’m not ready for summer to be…
Some wounds, like mine, run much, much deeper than sometimes one might expect. My injured head does not bleed, but it struggles now to rebuild its world after unwittingly watching it burn for so long. Nobody knows quite when the fire started, but now that it’s finished in a searing blaze of glory, regrowing the scorched trees seems nigh impossible. Such is the nature of waking up from the remnants of an abusive relationship. The aching dawn opens my eyes…
CONTENT WARNING: Depictions of emotional/physical/verbal abuse, intrusive thoughts, murder mentions
Pink talons flicked over and over against the jingling bells on Marmoset’s hat. To their left hunched the ruddy brown form of Redwood, all scented like cedar candles and fresh morning dew. On their right side was Lightningbug, slender claws tinkering with an old dragonets’ toy and a screwdriver. Just about everyone in the room was palpably nervous, some fidgeting like the wings of little flies while others sat frozen in still, uncomfortable silence like pillars of ice. The tense…