Post by Broadwaykat on Jul 30, 2019 1:33:57 GMT
Having come from a big family, there was a certain restlessness to Hawkspring recently, as he was watching the members of his clan go about their business. It wasn’t a feeling he could actually describe; but almost like, if he had to put a paw on it, like he didn’t feel totally at home in his own skin. He had been practically the only apprentice for so long – had been among the last litters to have been born in their old territory. He hadn’t any siblings to play with, unlike Swanstream’s recent litter; and yet still didn’t quite gel with other cats like Frogsong and Glimmersnow.
A good part of him remembered his old name, and still thought from time to time if there was a difference between the Hawkspring he was and the Hawk that Flies through Storms that he had been born as. If they had still been a tribe, would his life have been different? Would he have learned more, or less, than he already knew.
Would he have run into a strange cat like Magpie?
There were few cats his age who talked about such things – those older then him seemed to be desperate to distance themselves from their old life as a clan, or were determined to forget for the sake of peace with the other clans – and those like his younger siblings had known nothing different than the life they lived now. Hawkspring couldn’t really talk to anyone. Or could he?
There was one cat…one who hadn’t been born in their clan, but had instead helped them to settle where they were. If anyone knew what it was like, probably, to not feel at home in their own fur, it had to be the heavily scarred tom who looked like he had seen much, much more of the world than Hawkspring ever had. And he knew that his mother would probably not approve of him seeking him out…but finally, he found, he just had to.
So one early morning, he woke up early and crept his way over his sleeping clanmates to one particular den, nudging it’s occupant before his nerve could give up on him.
“H-hey, Halfshade? You wanna hunt down some breakfast?”
Mama
A good part of him remembered his old name, and still thought from time to time if there was a difference between the Hawkspring he was and the Hawk that Flies through Storms that he had been born as. If they had still been a tribe, would his life have been different? Would he have learned more, or less, than he already knew.
Would he have run into a strange cat like Magpie?
There were few cats his age who talked about such things – those older then him seemed to be desperate to distance themselves from their old life as a clan, or were determined to forget for the sake of peace with the other clans – and those like his younger siblings had known nothing different than the life they lived now. Hawkspring couldn’t really talk to anyone. Or could he?
There was one cat…one who hadn’t been born in their clan, but had instead helped them to settle where they were. If anyone knew what it was like, probably, to not feel at home in their own fur, it had to be the heavily scarred tom who looked like he had seen much, much more of the world than Hawkspring ever had. And he knew that his mother would probably not approve of him seeking him out…but finally, he found, he just had to.
So one early morning, he woke up early and crept his way over his sleeping clanmates to one particular den, nudging it’s occupant before his nerve could give up on him.
“H-hey, Halfshade? You wanna hunt down some breakfast?”
Mama
