Post by haze on Apr 24, 2024 3:31:10 GMT
MAGGOTCHEER
“No one calls you honey, when you’re sitting on a throne…”
—
Several moons into servitude, Maggotcheer still felt strange referring to herself as a mother. But here she was, the adoptive parent to an orphaned apprentice, in a clan she’d only recently joined herself. It was an odd feeling, indeed, to have gained so much undeserved trust so quickly, both from ShoreClan and from the feline she now called "daughter." Who would have thought simple motherhood could make the former rogue feel even more powerful than when she stripped cats of their lives? Perhaps queens weren’t crazy after all to sacrifice their youthful bodies to childbirth. For, if they played the game well enough, they could influence entire generations and, little by little, the whole forest.
‘Finally, now I understand why our species continues to reproduce,’ Maggotcheer mused. ‘It has certainly baffled me long enough.’
The spindly, balding she-cat shot a glance at her adopted offspring, Luminouspaw, as the two strolled by the lakeshore during their weekly mother-daughter date. Maggotcheer studied the younger feline’s face, her own countenance devoid of expression. Could she handle more children down the line? Or should she pour everything she had into the grey-and-white apprentice to ensure Luminouspaw’s eternal devotion? If Maggotcheer had a partner – er, mate as the clan cats called it – she’d likely have more children, biological even. But, for better or for worse, her ugly mug drove everyone away, not just eligible toms. Not that she minded, though. She’d never desired a romantic relationship, nor adoration in that manner. It only disappointed Maggotcheer that she could not use feminine wiles as a means for getting ahead. It sure served many she-cats well.
“Luuuuuuminouspaw, what would you like to do today?” Maggotcheer grinned her famous bucktoothed smile. Although she aimed to use Luminouspaw for her own ends, the oriental she-cat did enjoy spending time with the apprentice, whose wild, chaotic personality meshed well with her own. Was that love? Who knew, really. “We could go for a swim with the fishies? Or chase after some crabs?”
—
“Just like you said, I am a little wicked.”
desolate
