keep calm and carry on [frozenkingdom/sparrowclaw]
POSTED ON Dec 4, 2023 19:42:25 GMT
desolate likes this
Post by xvinn on Dec 4, 2023 19:42:25 GMT
sparrowclaw (he/him) | galeclan
Sparrowclaw had always hated leaf-bare for a myriad of reasons. He hated how useless it often made him feel, going out on hunting patrols and coming back with only one or two pieces should he be so lucky. He hated the fact that it seemed everyone would slow down around them, dragging themselves begrudgingly from their nests to face the freezing world around them. For every leaf-bare before, Sparrowclaw refused to slow down with the rest of the Clan, he refused to let his paws drag through the snow that had yet to fall.
Of course, it had come to his detrement two leaf-bares before. That leaf-bare when he felt his body screaming at him to slow down and stop, to breathe and to seek help. But he refused to ask for help. He'd always refused to ask for help. Sparrowclaw refused to look weak and like someone who needed help, and so he pushed through. He made himself leave the camp despite the pain in his chest, he made himself pick up his paws so they would not drag through the snow. He brought back far and few prey that leaf-bare, but he would rather bring back one piece of prey every two sunrises than bring none back at all.
He ignored when Tangledvine went into the medicine cat's den. He would not let her sickness slow him down.
He would not let her death slow him down.
He would not let the guilt of the fact that he was never by her side in her final sunrises slow him down.
Sparrowclaw grew more and more cold, not just from the temperatures in the air around him, but in the way he treated others. He refused to answer their questions or give them any validity when they asked if he was okay. He was fine. Cats die, that's just how things go.
Leaf-bare ended, and then it returned. Kits were born, and other cats died. It's just the way things go, the way that StarClan bids it to. Sparrowclaw refused to slow, he refused to stop, no matter how much it seemed that everyone tried to hold him back, tried to push him down and pin him to the moor floor. There was always more to do, more prey to catch, more rogues to chase off. There were apprentices to train and foxes to save them from.
This leaf-bare tried to hold him back even more than the ones before.
He could feel his back leg trying to drag. There was no snow for it to drag through just yet, but as the temperatures began to drop, he could feel it grow stiff and painful. He could feel the way it throbbed when he landed a pounce towards an unsuspecting rabbit. He could feel the way that it tried to hold him back when the rabbit caught wind of him and bolted as he chased after the creature. But Sparrowclaw would refuse to slow, no matter how much his body screamed at him to stop.
He dragged the rabbit back to camp, though by the time he arrived, some time had certainly passed.
Sparrowclaw refused to get this injury get the better of him. He was only forty moons old, still a young cat who had seen only four leaf-bares in his life. He still had aspirations in his life, though with each deputy ceremony that did not chant his name, it would not slow him down. Even if perhaps following in his great-grandfather's footsteps as leader of GaleClan was not the path that StarClan would set out for him, it did not mean he would stop working to provide for his Clan. He would continue to push himself with every full moon that passed, with every Gathering he attended, every rabbit he caught and every apprentice he trained. His Clan depended on him, and he knew that even if he would never become leader, he would die before he retired.
Of course, it had come to his detrement two leaf-bares before. That leaf-bare when he felt his body screaming at him to slow down and stop, to breathe and to seek help. But he refused to ask for help. He'd always refused to ask for help. Sparrowclaw refused to look weak and like someone who needed help, and so he pushed through. He made himself leave the camp despite the pain in his chest, he made himself pick up his paws so they would not drag through the snow. He brought back far and few prey that leaf-bare, but he would rather bring back one piece of prey every two sunrises than bring none back at all.
He ignored when Tangledvine went into the medicine cat's den. He would not let her sickness slow him down.
He would not let her death slow him down.
He would not let the guilt of the fact that he was never by her side in her final sunrises slow him down.
Sparrowclaw grew more and more cold, not just from the temperatures in the air around him, but in the way he treated others. He refused to answer their questions or give them any validity when they asked if he was okay. He was fine. Cats die, that's just how things go.
Leaf-bare ended, and then it returned. Kits were born, and other cats died. It's just the way things go, the way that StarClan bids it to. Sparrowclaw refused to slow, he refused to stop, no matter how much it seemed that everyone tried to hold him back, tried to push him down and pin him to the moor floor. There was always more to do, more prey to catch, more rogues to chase off. There were apprentices to train and foxes to save them from.
This leaf-bare tried to hold him back even more than the ones before.
He could feel his back leg trying to drag. There was no snow for it to drag through just yet, but as the temperatures began to drop, he could feel it grow stiff and painful. He could feel the way it throbbed when he landed a pounce towards an unsuspecting rabbit. He could feel the way that it tried to hold him back when the rabbit caught wind of him and bolted as he chased after the creature. But Sparrowclaw would refuse to slow, no matter how much his body screamed at him to stop.
He dragged the rabbit back to camp, though by the time he arrived, some time had certainly passed.
Sparrowclaw refused to get this injury get the better of him. He was only forty moons old, still a young cat who had seen only four leaf-bares in his life. He still had aspirations in his life, though with each deputy ceremony that did not chant his name, it would not slow him down. Even if perhaps following in his great-grandfather's footsteps as leader of GaleClan was not the path that StarClan would set out for him, it did not mean he would stop working to provide for his Clan. He would continue to push himself with every full moon that passed, with every Gathering he attended, every rabbit he caught and every apprentice he trained. His Clan depended on him, and he knew that even if he would never become leader, he would die before he retired.
desolate ● to be clear he's essentially just returned to camp after hunting ● 663 words
