[nimmy]

wip

name :: flickerflight
namesake :: the bird, northern flicker
gender :: female
prompt theme :: they are forever in search of their deceased kit, having been told sparrowkit had taken to the stars, they search day and night in the skies for them.

[ArithMedic]

murica I mean, mark!

[comfypxl]

username: comfypxl
clan: echoing peaks
name: auroraspirits
age: 26 months
gender: female
prompt: where does the wind take them??
wipwipwip

[BlueberryBirdie]

username: BlueberryBirdie
clan: Forum/viewtopic.php?f=103&t=5006302
name: Wish Of The Singing Stars
age: wip
gender: wip
prompt: wip

[WetPaint23]

username: WetPaint23
clan: Here
name: Watcher
age: old (400+ moons)
gender: Male
prompt: Watcher gazed across the snow filled clearing, listening to the squeals and laughs of the kittens before him. Three of them, young in age, darted across the steadily growing snowdrifts. They bounced through the snow, digging tunnels and holes to hide from their parent. The giggles of one kitten gave her away, and their parent dug them out of the pile they were hidden in. After making sure that the kitten was still warm enough, they sent her off to find her siblings, continuing the game. Watcher wrapped his tails around themselves, smiling at the memory before him. While he didn’t know who those cats were, the small glimpse into their happiness brought him joy. One kitten darted right in front of him, her small tail whipping through the air, not noticing the large cat behind her. They never do see him, and at that moment, he was grateful for that. He didn’t want to risk disrupting their happy moment with his presence. Watcher was content to do his task, watching the scene before him, as he was meant to do.

-

Watcher clenched his eyes shut and pulled his paws close to his body as the wind began to blow once more. It was never a surprise when the wind came for him again. How many lifetimes had he been doing this? Tens, hundreds? He had lost count at this point. Watcher has lived many lives and gone by many names, each never lasting long before the wind calls him again. He has watched lifetimes go by, a silent bystander to the lives around him. He can see, but cannot be seen. Pressing his forepaws against his muzzle, Watcher took a deep breath, preparing himself for the inevitable vertigo that came with each journey. The sounds and sights around him quickly blurred into an overwhelming and incomprehensible mess, jarring noises assaulting his ears and flashes of bright light searing through his eyelids. It was a miserable experience, one piece of his own miserable existence, but he didn’t bother trying to fight. Resistance would only make it worse. Better to wait and ride it out, relying on his years of prior experience and understanding. The wind knew what it was doing. It always did.

He felt his paws lift off of the soft grass, ripping him away from the comfortable scene before him. It had been one of the sweeter images Watcher had seen in a long time, a blue hued memory of an unknown parent and their kittens in the snow. He silently dwelled on the scene as the wind dragged him, strong gusts buffeting his fur and pulling him in multiple directions at once. His body twisted through the air, controlled by the unpredictable wind. Watcher was never sure how long it took, how long he swung through the air. Time didn’t mean much to him anymore. He had plenty of it, an eternity of time at his paws.

Quiet voices, just louder than the whistling wind, reached his ears. Indiscernible chatter came from all sides, a barrage on his sensitive ears. Shouts of joy, screams of pain, squeals of laughter, whispers of warning, each begging for him to listen. Watcher knew that it was better to ignore them. He didn’t want to risk going off the path, entering the wrong memory again. He had made that mistake too many times before, and now closed his ears to the cacophony around him, letting the wind take him where it needed.

_

The wind died suddenly, as it always did, depositing him at his next stop. Soft mud squelched along the ground, the warm sensation reaching Watcher’s paws and he lowered himself to the ground. No pawsteps were left behind as he moved forward. He was merely a viewer, not a participant in this memory. It was immediately obvious to him that this was a future memory, an event that had not yet happened, the pale pink hue that filled his vision signaling its nature. The unsaturated landscape around him grew as Watcher walked, dead shrubs and trees popping up through the mud. It was eerily silent, a stark contrast to the lively memory before and the chaotic movement through the wind. The air around him felt heavy and wet, carrying the promise of an oncoming storm. A soft breeze sent a dead leaf flying through the air, stopping in Watcher’s path. He stepped over it, some part of him still unwilling to disturb the image around him, even though he knew he couldn’t do any damage even if he tried.

Watcher picked a direction and continued moving. It didn’t matter if he picked the wrong one. The wind would let him know, and redirect him, if he did. The dull colors began to sharpen as he walked, confirming that he was moving in the right direction. The wind couldn’t speak, but it had its own ways of letting him know what it needed to tell him. The sky above him was a dark angry red, the sun hidden behind clouds heavy with rain. The sound came next, the din of cicada songs cutting through the silence. Booming thunder sounded overhead, making Watcher jump.

“Come on, Dune! We gotta get home to Mama before the storm rolls in!” A small sandy brown kitten darted forward, leaping off of a small rock behind Watcher. The kitten wore a rope around their neck, carrying a small clay jar likely filled with water. A second kitten, slightly smaller and much darker in color trailed behind, limping as he walked. Watcher stopped as the kitten, Dune, stumbled forward. He tripped on a root hidden in the mud, limply falling onto the ground below him.

Dune huffed in frustration, forcing his paws back underneath his body and making his way up into a sitting position. “Give me a break, Silt. We’ve been walking all day. I’m exhausted.” Dune swiped a paw over his face, flinging globs of sticky mud off of his whiskers, and back onto the ground. “We’ve got time before it rains. Let’s just sit for a moment and wait.”
Silt stared at Dune for a few moments before walking over to their brother. The two touched noses, silently encouraging each other on. Silt held Dune’s forepaws in their own, carefully cleaning some of the mud off of his fur. The pads underneath were red and raw, the skin scraped away by the rough ground below. “We need to go, Dune.” They meowed softly. Both kittens had obviously been walking for a while, but they weren’t done yet. “Mama needs this water. We can rest when we get home. Come on. You can lean on me.” Silt pushed Dune up, and the two began slowly hobbling forward, following a path only they knew.

Silt and Dune walked forward, passing through Watcher where he stood on the path. Neither kitten noticed him, but he didn’t expect them to. He padded forward through the muck, following behind the children as they made their way home. The two walked silently, their heavy breathing the only noise besides the constant cicada noise around them.
A feeling of anxious dread began to work its way through Watcher’s body. He didn’t know how or why the wind chose the memories that it did, but he knew that they rarely ended will. He could only imagine what was going to happen to these kittens, and hoped that they could somehow make it home to their mama safely. They were far too young to be out on their own like this, worrying about making such a journey.

A panicked cry from one of the kittens pulled Watcher out of his daydream, and he glanced in front of him to see what happened. The view in front of him stopped him in his tracks, and he had to force himself to move closer. Dune had collapsed to the ground, slipping on unsteady paws once again. Mud covered his face, having splashed into his eyes and nose from the impact of his body. Silt moved beside him, trying to force their immobile brother to get up. Their fearful cries pierced Watcher’s heart, and, not for the first time in his life, he wished he could step forward and help. Silt grabbed Dune’s scruff with their teeth, trying to drag him forward. They tripped over their paws, weighed down by Dune’s larger body. The little kitten stared down at their brother’s unmoving form, slowly understanding that their brother was gone. Their tiny legs shook, barely able to keep their own body upright. A strangled wail escaped Silt’s lips as their hindlegs collapsed, sending them sprawling into the mud beside their brother.

Watcher stepped forward, brushing one tail over Silt’s head, and down their back. He knew they couldn’t feel it, but he didn’t want the little one to be suffering alone. He wishes he could tell them that it wasn’t their fault. Neither kitten was healthy, clearly dehydrated and malnourished. Silt couldn’t have done anything to save him, but Watcher had no way to tell them that.

These were Watcher’s least favorite types of memories. One’s where he wanted to intervene, wanted to reach out and help, wanted to at least speak to those he was watching. He hated many of the wind’s rules, but this one was the one he despised the most. He understood why couldn’t. It was his job to watch and listen, not to intervene.

Watcher turned his attention back to Silt, their anguished sobs breaking his heart. He reached one paw out, desperate to comfort the kitten, but sighed as his touch passed right through them.

The wind began again, the loud gusts drowning out Silt’s cries. He wished that he could remain by their side, offering as much invisible support as he could, but he and his journey remained at the wind’s mercy. The wind is always forceful and insistent, dragging him through both space and time with no regard for his own desires, and this time is no different. One moment can send him hurtling without control, the sounds and sights around him blurring into an overwhelming and incomprehensible mess. There is nothing for him to do now but close his eyes and continue to breathe, hoping that his next place is better than the last.

-

The wind takes Watcher where he needs to go. It’s usually not where he wants to go and it tends to show him things that he doesn’t really want to see, but over the years he’s learned the importance of letting the wind take control, and the consequences of resisting.

Watcher has viewed more memories than he can count, memories that were not his own but now were. He has witnessed births and deaths, celebrations and tragedies, moments of peace and moments of pain, and everything else in between. Now, as the wind once again carries him away, his thoughts drift over each of the memories he carries with him. Why does the wind show him these things? Why did it choose him? Were there any others out there experiencing the same things? The future memories weren’t very effective warnings if he didn’t have the chance to do anything about them, and he didn’t have the power to change the past. This was his life, trapped between times, viewing the memories of those before and those who will come after. Watcher has never received answers before, and has given up asking, knowing his questions will only be returned with silence.

-

As he drifts through the air, the wind carrying him to his next destination, Watcher forced his eyes open for the first time in years. The images around him were bright, too bright to make out, much like the sounds around him. He swung his body around, stretching his legs out to the sides. Reaching up and out, he pushed past the images, brushing them away one by one. They are pieces of memories, he realized, a preview of each moment he has witnessed, and will witness. As he swiped them away with his claws they quietly disappeared and did not return, taking the overwhelming noise with them. Soon, he was left within nothingness. There was nothing to see except his own paws. Nothing to hear but his own breathing and the howling wind around him. It would have been peaceful if it weren’t so unnerving.

Watcher opened his mouth, clearing his throat. The motion felt foreign, something he hadn’t done for many lifetimes. He couldn’t remember the last time he spoke, and his voice sounded unfamiliar and creaky. He had something to say, and the wind was going to listen.

The wind continued to howl, ruffling his fur. It was clearly unhappy about the choices that Watcher had made, but he knew it had to listen. He only had one chance to get this right, one moment before the wind grew too angry and flung him into his next memory. He lifted his head, staring out into the swirling vortex. For the first time in his life, he spoke to the wind, truly expecting an answer.

“Who am I?”

Watcher truly did not know who he was. He did not know where he came from, who he was before the wind took him, and what happened when the wind took him. If he had the chance to know anything, he wanted to truly know who, or what, he was.

The wind did not answer at first. Its howling continued around Wander, trying to pull him in each direction at once. He believed that he had confused it, or at least angered it, and he prepared himself for the next unrelated memory he would undoubtedly be sent to.

“I.”

Watcher swung his head upwards in surprise. The voice cut directly through his brain, coming from everywhere and nowhere at once.

“Am.”

The voice was loud, much louder than anything he had ever heard before. He pressed his paws against his ears, trying to at least dull the thunderous noise.

“You.”

A heavy force slammed into Watcher and sent him flying, and he let out a gasp as his back slammed into the ground.

-

Watcher slowly opened his eyes, staring up at the wide blue sky above him. The sky was clear, and the bright sun beat down on him, warming his thick fur. He slowly rolled over and stood, shaking out his pelt as he moved. The ground beneath him was soft, green grass growing tall as far as he could see. Watcher moved forward slowly, gazing up in amazement as the sky began to quickly darken. Each step he took seemed to send time forward further, setting the sun and raising the moon and stars above him much quicker than normal. Fireflies emerged from the grass, flying through the air and lighting up the night with their yellow glow.

He froze as he spotted something small in front of him, leaping through the grass. It was a young cat, too old to be a kitten but too young to be considered an adult. He watched as the kitchen jumped, snapping his jaws at the fireflies around him, his tails streaming behind him. The cat laughed as he caught one, bounding forward through the grass as Watcher followed behind.

Watcher’s stomach dropped as he noticed something the cat clearly hadn’t. The grass did end, quite suddenly, the group dropping out in a cliff, over the leafy forests below. The young cat continued to run, closer and closer to the edge, noticing nothing but the firefly in front of him. Watcher ran behind him, shouting and begging for the cat to slow down, and be careful.

But, as always, the cat couldn’t hear him. He realized his mistake too late, slamming his claws into the ground in an attempt to stop himself. The weight of his body and the speed of his movements were too much however, and he fell forward, off the edge. Watcher screamed, leaping forward and stopping at the end, searching desperately for the fallen cat.
The formerly silent night changed, coming alive with the wind whistling through the grass. Watcher sobbed, begging for just another moment, just another minute to search for the cat before he was taken away yet again.

But even if he had stayed there for eternity, Watcher would never have found that cat again. For the wind had taken him, saving him from the fate that he thought was inevitable.

-

It took Watcher quite a bit of time to understand why he was seeing these memories, and what his job was. He watches the world and those within it, helpless to intervene or change what has happened, or what is going to happen. That is his job. He is not meant to change the past, or warn others about what is coming. That is just not possible. He is merely a watcher. Someone to make sure no story goes unviewed, and no one is forgotten, wherever the wind takes him.

(2841 words)

[beeqlass]

will be extending to January 15th > 16th!

if you need further extensions, toss me a msg <3

[ivyy.]

username: ivyy.
clan: saguaroclan
name: nameless --> juno
age: ancient --> 48 moons
gender: female --> she-cat
prompt: "i wonder how i managed to end up in this place
where i couldn't get away"

[dimi.]

username: ivyy.
clan: saguaroclan
name: nameless --> juno
age: ancient --> 48 moons
gender: female --> she-cat
prompt: "i wonder how i managed to end up in this place
where i couldn't get away"

I apologize for the wait on this, Artie requested I take over the judging so here I am! After reading between the two forms, I really enjoyed the journey of juno. the way you eloquently wrote about her fear was amazing as well. i also loved the playlist [running with the wolves was a THROWBACK to hear].

however, i will also be rewarding a runner up to the other completed form, wetpaint23, in the form of an Unlimited Rare MYO! Both of you put in a ton of effort, and it was hard to choose between the two, so artie and I both felt this was more than fair. Thank you for your patience!!