Post by Cloudbat on Jan 15, 2015 22:18:20 GMT -10
Birchtail hummed to herself as she breathed in the morning fog. It was so cool, so clean. She had tried to catch a mouse, and had failed. It didn't bother her - not much did anymore. But she needed to feed her Clan, yes, she did. She raised her head slightly from staring blankly at the earth and looked around, one ear flicking.
No, no. Only hunting now. Her Clan must eat. To feast on StarClan's bounty...to give thanks...
"What am I giving thanks for?"
She addressed the fog.
It didn't answer.
They gave thanks for being alive. But why? Weren't they all trying to go to StarClan? Better then, to die...when you were alive, you were impure. When you were dead you were neat, and in your place, and the earth would slowly absorb you like a plant drinking in rain...
She came upon a tree stump, unevenly dotted with small mushrooms. She laughed a little. They were out of place. They were UNEVEN. Her amusement turned to rage and she ripped at them, clawing them to shreds, getting splinters stuck in her toes but with no care because it was all bad all wrong -
Birchtail's lucidity returned with a jolt.
"No, I didn't mean to...what am I..."
She stumbled back, ears flattened and pupils slit. She breathed heavily, the back of her throat sour and choked with anxiety. Slowly she calmed down, though her fur was still ruffled. She would have to fix it...but not now. She needed to hunt. She breathed more evenly, trying to drink any prey-scents that might be nearby.
The fog, the fog...was it only outside? Or was it in her brain?
No, no. Only hunting now. Her Clan must eat. To feast on StarClan's bounty...to give thanks...
"What am I giving thanks for?"
She addressed the fog.
It didn't answer.
They gave thanks for being alive. But why? Weren't they all trying to go to StarClan? Better then, to die...when you were alive, you were impure. When you were dead you were neat, and in your place, and the earth would slowly absorb you like a plant drinking in rain...
She came upon a tree stump, unevenly dotted with small mushrooms. She laughed a little. They were out of place. They were UNEVEN. Her amusement turned to rage and she ripped at them, clawing them to shreds, getting splinters stuck in her toes but with no care because it was all bad all wrong -
Birchtail's lucidity returned with a jolt.
"No, I didn't mean to...what am I..."
She stumbled back, ears flattened and pupils slit. She breathed heavily, the back of her throat sour and choked with anxiety. Slowly she calmed down, though her fur was still ruffled. She would have to fix it...but not now. She needed to hunt. She breathed more evenly, trying to drink any prey-scents that might be nearby.
The fog, the fog...was it only outside? Or was it in her brain?
