Post by GnawingOnIce on Nov 3, 2018 3:17:52 GMT
((OOC: I had a urge to write something so I did a small thing ft. Hickorykit))
Hickorykit didn’t know much of what to think of all the cats that towered over him every day. They all seemed to be paying attention to anything else but him, but he did get an occasional glance or two. Sometimes he picked up words from conversations.
The tiny kit was mostly avoided or ignored, rolling around under the warriors. Part of Hickorykit was glad for that, he would hate to be the center of attention.
Then, sometimes, the older kits in the nursery would ask about his ears and snicker under their breath at them, but Hickorykit would never notice and answer honestly.
“Hey, what’s up with your ears?” One of them would ask.
“My ears?” He would respond, looking confused.
“They’re really big.”
“Oh.” Hickorykit had understood what they meant when he looked into puddles of rain that had gathered in camp.
“My Dad says I’ll grow into them.” Timberheart had in fact reassured Hickorykit that he would grow into his ears. And he believed him, of course. Though, he was a bit self-conscious about them.
When talking to his mother, Owlcry, about it, she’d always tell him that Timberheart’s words were true and that his large ears were handsome just like himself.
Hickorykit is content with his ears and tries to embrace them. He thinks his brothers don’t mind them; he’s never asked.
For now, he’ll stop worrying about it and proceed with his tiny snores, his head hanging out of the edge of the nest, cuddled against his brothers.
Hickorykit didn’t know much of what to think of all the cats that towered over him every day. They all seemed to be paying attention to anything else but him, but he did get an occasional glance or two. Sometimes he picked up words from conversations.
The tiny kit was mostly avoided or ignored, rolling around under the warriors. Part of Hickorykit was glad for that, he would hate to be the center of attention.
Then, sometimes, the older kits in the nursery would ask about his ears and snicker under their breath at them, but Hickorykit would never notice and answer honestly.
“Hey, what’s up with your ears?” One of them would ask.
“My ears?” He would respond, looking confused.
“They’re really big.”
“Oh.” Hickorykit had understood what they meant when he looked into puddles of rain that had gathered in camp.
“My Dad says I’ll grow into them.” Timberheart had in fact reassured Hickorykit that he would grow into his ears. And he believed him, of course. Though, he was a bit self-conscious about them.
When talking to his mother, Owlcry, about it, she’d always tell him that Timberheart’s words were true and that his large ears were handsome just like himself.
Hickorykit is content with his ears and tries to embrace them. He thinks his brothers don’t mind them; he’s never asked.
For now, he’ll stop worrying about it and proceed with his tiny snores, his head hanging out of the edge of the nest, cuddled against his brothers.
