by ponz » Mon Apr 13, 2020 11:47 am
Username: ponz
Clan intended for: SpruceClan
Name Ram will take: Ramstrike
Why did Ram leave his home to join your clan?
That day, his paws had found their place on the weathered wooden trusses. One after the other, he'd slunk forwards with grace, weaving between beams and and then— thump! One short leg had caught on a rafter, costing him his footing, and he tumbled down face-first into the hay-covered loft. An amused purr rang out from behind him. "Oh, Ramsey," the intruding tom had laughed, voice warmer than the winter sun on your fur, as he crept out from the corners of the loft. "You're a grown cat now. I don't think you'll ever be tall enough to walk the tresses."
Ramsey could only sigh, spitting out wheat stalks and hay grass miserably. "Ain't gonna stop a cat from tryin', Micah," he'd groused, but not without flashing his friend a wry smirk. "I'd like ta' see you do better." Micah raised a brow, unimpressed, before bounding forwards and effortlessly weaving between the tresses and climbing up the rafters. Long, powerful legs made that easy, Ramsey supposed. He'd be a rotten liar if he said he wasn't jealous. "Whatever," the seal point had sniffed, little bobtail wriggling, paws itching to cuff Micah across the ears. "I still catch more mice than you do." Micah had just laughed and laughed and laughed at that, sounding like morning's first drops of sunlight, and Ramsey had been content just to watch him with the squinty eyes that came from staring at something bright for too long. Of course, he'd laughed until his own chest got tight when Micah, in his hysterics, had toppled from the rafters himself, landing on the ground floor of the barn with a much louder crash.
Ramsey missed those days more than anything. But it was only natural, he supposed, to miss the ones you had lost. It was just that... he'd always thought of them as his forever. Waking up to the sunrise, racing Micah to catch the most barn mice for the Old Twoleg, taunting the dogs, smiling softly as he watched Micah drift to sleep with that glorious, aching, unspoken thing buried in his heart. Of course Ramsey knew that Micah was a handsome tom, but the Old Twoleg kept building more and more barns, and that meant new cats were brought in to accommodate. Before he knew it, some pretty molly had swept away his best friend with a flick of the tail, and Ramsey was spending his days alone. Micah can't be there to laugh at you when you fall from the rafters if he's too busy tending to kits or hunting mice or watching sunrises with somebody else.
The barn was too empty without Micah. Ramsey didn't much care for any of the young cats that had taken up residence in the new mountain farmhouse, either. Smokey was too naive, Fuzz too much of a loudmouth, Hattie an utter nuisance. So he was stuck there, recollecting, bitterly tallying every instance where he'd missed his chance, each sunrise spent together, every moment he could've sworn Micah— that Micah might have even... "Quit it'!" he'd scold himself, when his thoughts started to drift. "Micah felt nothin' for you. Get yer head out of the clouds."
It was thanks to all that time spent recollecting that Ramsey happened to remember the day when Smokey left. It had been a cold winter's day, probably a month or two before Primrose had caught Micah in her web, when the young grey tom came barrelling into the Old Twoleg's barnhouse. "Ramsey! Micah!" he'd called up to them, tail spiked in that way that meant the reckless fool had either dug himself a deep hole or had uncovered something exciting. "I met somebody!" And a tall, sturdy, handsome black-and-ginger tom had followed right behind him, giving their barn a displeased once-over, but whose eyes caught on Ramsey's embarrassingly small form where it was tangled up in the hay pile. Ramsey remembered how the tom had smiled at him, winking playfully, before trotting away with Smokey at his heels.
Ramsey remembered that tom, Cricket-something, and the brief words he'd given about a group of cats up in the mountains. He remembered Smokey's blind faith in a new way of life, and unspoken promises of sunrises from the highest point on Earth. Mostly, Ramsey remembered the slope of Cricket's shoulders, of a wink and a tail wave. "Well," he said aloud, to a room with no Micah in it. "It was good havin' ya, for a little while."
The barn was too empty these days. It'd do him good to find somewhere— someone— new.
Last edited by
ponz on Tue Apr 14, 2020 12:40 pm, edited 4 times in total.