Damir’s tail lashed as he stared at the place the rogue had been. How could he have let them get away? And how could he have attacked them like that? He had done so while only thinking of Vorona and her kits, but now he was certain he’d held the rogue’s throat in his maw. Absently, the massive tom ran his tongue over his fangs. His fur prickled.
“Aww, did he bleed on you?” Frost's voice cut through the air. Damir turned, finding the silver cat staring at him with eyes wide in false concern, head tipped to one side. “Savoring the taste?” They added with a sick grin.
Damir could practically feel the unspoken word in the air. Brute. It wouldn't be the first time Frost had called him that. In fact, it was one of their favorite things to call him. Damir fought to make it so that only his tail tip was flicking. He turned away, glaring where the rogue had been again.
“No.” He all but growled. “Do you miss it?”
The silence was all Damir needed to know how Frost was looking at him. He was imagining it now: ears pinned back, fur bristled, and a glare that would be intimidating if Frost weren't all fur and bones. He smiled to himself. Ha, classic.
“For the last time, we did not drink blood!” They spat.
Damir shrugged. “Seems like a cult-like thing to do.”
“And it wasn't a cult!”
“Sounded like a cult.” He turned to glance at Frost over his shoulder, meeting their gaze meaningfully as he spoke next. “Would you even know if it was?”
Frost opened their mouth to fire off another retort, then stopped. They paused, then looked down without saying anything. Their eyes were shadowed.
Damir huffed quietly and turned away. He knew he was being… difficult with them. He wasn't sure if it was too much exactly, but he knew it was definitely more than he would do to someone else. Which, honestly, almost justified it in his mind.
He and Frost had met not quite three moons ago now, along with most other cats in the clan. Frost was one of the first cats to arrive, and one of the only cats who seemed totally sure of themselves. That, and Frost was a spiritspeaker, a cat with the unusual trait to see and speak with spirits. Such a cat hadn't been seen in the forest for three generations according to Damir’s father, and it was a role with a high demand. Living in such a magic-rich forest, having a link between worlds could save lives. Some cats could train themself into gaining this ability, but they would never be as strong as those who were born with it. Frost had claimed they were.
And then, to Damir alone, they revealed that their father had made a cult around it.
Frost came from far, far away. Across endless taigas and deep valleys, from a colony nestled at the base of a mountain. They didn't know the specifics of how or why their father came to utilize their powers how he did, only that they realized something was wrong as a late adolescent thanks to a kind spirit.
Their father was the leader of their colony, and had sold grandiose tales about what Frost’s powers were and could do. And while they had been able to save their colony on occasion, and could do a few things one may call miracles, it wasn't nearly what their father described. To hear him tell it, Frost was a blindingly powerful demigod. Frost’s father was the only one who could control their powers and speak with their supernatural parent, and thus the leadership of the colony was awkwardly split between them - at least, on the surface it was.
As Frost said, they never actually had power. Their colony worshiped Frost and likely would have followed them, but it was their father who controlled them all - Frost included. Frost couldn’t leave their camp unless supervised. Couldn't speak with spirits unless in his presence. Couldn't speak to other cats unless in camp. Couldn't tell anyone but him the omens they received, no matter how dire. Couldn't tell the others when he lied about omens.
They had thought it was normal. When a brave spirit revealed just how wrong everything was, Frost became desperate to leave. And when they did, they made sure to reveal all of their father’s lies first. When Damir asked, Frost had said they didn't know what happened to their father after.
It was… a lot. Damir believed most of it - it wasn't unheard of for little followings to pop up around the cats with cultivated abilities - but not all of it. He was supposed to accept that Frost was a prophet with no power? Sure, Frost had told him themself. Even made a point to explain that they were telling him, even when it would be just barely short of impossible for him to find out otherwise, because they wanted to be honest. They wanted Damir to know and understand their past, because the role they would play in the clan would be similar to who they were before. But they wouldn't even admit what the colony truly was. A cult. Damir’s ears folded back slightly as he remembered.
Why had they told him? So they could work better together? So Damir could keep them in check? It just made him suspicious over everything the silver cat did. How could he trust that they didn't lead the cult? Or that they wouldn't try to steal the power they never had? Why tell him at all if they didn't think he’d find out? Was the colony closer than they said, would ex-cultists arrive soon with a different story? Who should he believe? A former false god or a disgruntled follower?
Damir’s tail tip flicked faster. He was being kind to them. Too kind, and they didn't even seem to know it. For as much as he disliked and distrusted them, he saw echoes of himself and his past in their story. It was very, very different what they had gone through, and yet too similar still. Frost flinched, just the slightest whisker’s breadth, if Damir spoke too loud or moved too fast. He had noticed, because he’d been the same way after he left his father. And if he looked close - not that he spent much time gazing at the silver cat - he could see the signs of scars hidden under their long pelt.
Damir saw the truth in Frost’s story beyond their words. Worse still, he wanted to trust them. He appreciated an honest cat, and had yet to see Frost lie - even about small things - in the moons he knew them. But he distrusted them more for every bit he wanted to not. What could they have done to make him trust them so easily? Him! Maybe be honest? Snark back at him? Not claw him up despite how he was acting?
The frustration drained from Damir’s body like a physical thing. He sagged, then glanced to his side. Frost had approached as he mused, and had taken to sitting about a tail-length away from him.
It would have been so easy for them to sneak away. Sneak away, or try to shove his head into the lake. Why haven't they? Was it fear of the repercussions, or…?
Damir looked back over the water. He did trust Frost, even if he didn't want to. They gave him no reason not to, which just made it harder for some reason. Everything pointed towards them being a perfectly fine cat with a very odd past. He and Frost would need to work together at some point too - though honestly, if they had to they could already put aside their differences and work quite well together - but if he had to work with them, he wanted their relationship to be better than his and Dinara’s.
Damir didn’t sigh. Instead, he tried to piece together an apology as he turned back to Frost. To his surprise, the silver cat cut him off.
“You really shouldn’t have attacked that cat,” they didn’t look at him as they spoke. Their tail was wrapped tightly around their paws. “If he hadn’t been normal…”
This time, Damir did sigh. “I know.” He conceded, and Frost’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. Damir ignored that. He drew in a low, slow breath. Did his breath catch ever so slightly in his throat?
Damir swallowed harshly, admitting to himself for the first time the sick feeling that had crept into his bones. He wanted to explain, but… he was afraid. Of what, he wasn't quite sure, but he was. Explaining, even a little, would be opening himself up in a way that he… didn't like doing. But Frost had done the same, hadn't they? So soon after meeting him, too. So they could understand each other, work well together.
Damir sighed, trying to will his nerves calm. He had to. He wanted to - and that frightened him more if he was being honest - but he had to. So that they might understand. So that they can work together.
He drew in another deep breath, and took the plunge.
“I’ve… been worried, with Vorona’s kits, Osa’s leg, and the situation with Nitya joining the clan. I don’t want trouble, but… I think we’re going to get it.” That was wordier than he would have liked. Mildly embarrassed, Damir gazed out over the lake once more.
It was frozen as far as the eye could see. It held a crystalline blue in its depths that rivaled the sky above. And somewhere, the bark of seals echoed.
“...I didn’t realize what I was doing.” Damir didn’t know what compelled him to speak, but the words were impossible to stop once they started. “I didn’t… mean to-” He cut himself off, shame and cruel cynicism burning his throat. Didn’t mean to? What was he, some troublesome kit? What would be saying if he had killed that poor cat?
Damir caught Frost giving him a sidelong glance. He knew they were afraid of him. Who wouldn’t be? He was a head taller than anyone in the clan, and considerably better muscled than all of them as well. Out of the entire clan he was the only one to have ever received any kind of ‘warrior training’ to top it all off. He almost found that funny sometimes. Almost.
A part of him had hoped that if he went along with this stupid clan business, the cats here wouldn’t be afraid of him. Only recently had he begun to realize that he had no idea how to make it happen. Not all of them were, but… he caught the way cats like Frost and Lev looked at him.
He ran his tongue against the roof of his mouth, remembering the feeling of dark fur against it. Maybe they were onto something.
“I… understand.” Frost’s lilting voice broke through the silence, catching Damir by surprise. He glanced at Frost, but they weren’t looking at him. “I never really had a connection with my family or my colony, but… I can tell you do. Or that you want one, in the case of the clan.” Frost did look over then, meeting Damir’s gaze for a moment. Strangely, he found himself pinned by their gaze. An odd, tentative lightness began to build in his chest. Did they…?
“It still wasn’t the right thing to do by any means, but I can see how you might be… stressed.” Frost’s last word was strained, their nose wrinkling slightly as they spoke. Their tail wrapped tighter around their paws.
Damir deflated, though managed not to show it outwardly. They were just trying to placate him. Had he really expected anything else?
The dark tom looked away. “We should keep looking.” He rose to his paws without glancing back at Frost.
“O-oh, I-” Frost quickly did the same. They were looking at Damir harder than he would have liked. Were they trying to meet his gaze? Why?
He didn’t bother.
The silver cat was quick to overcome their surprise. “Of course. We should continue on to the trading grounds.” As they spoke, their voice returned to its usual calm flow. They began to edge towards the direction of the trading grounds, and Damir followed without a word.
~
The trading grounds were empty.
Still, Frost insisted on searching the area for any clues. While they did, Damir padded out across the lake. Winter had only started a moon ago, but already the ice was more than thick enough to support him; the water was frozen more than fifteen tail-lengths from the shore, and as thick as his leg was long in some places. Still, there were some areas in which winter’s grasp had not settled - namely, strange holes in the ice. These were weak spots punctured by the seals in the lake, and the icy water could be reached through them. It was here Damir settled while Frost investigated the trading grounds. He sat with one paw stretched down to lightly disturb the water’s surface. If all went well, the slight movement would bring fish to his claws.
When Frost came to fetch him, they were carrying a bundle of catmint between their jaws and he a large fish. If this made it impossible for them to speak to each other on the way back, well, then it was surely only a fortunate coincidence.
~
On the opposite side of the territory, the only cat in the clan who could rival Damir in size or strength stalked alone through the snow-covered forest. Flurry’s colony was descended from warriors, and while they had given up their old way of life long before the collapse of BorealClan, they passed down what they knew to their children. She did not have a mentor teaching her the Way as Damir did, but rather a close-knit family teaching all of the young cats what they knew from generations prior.
And they were all gone.
Flurry had avoided the part of the forest where she found the wolf for nearly a week now. She still was - Flury had very purposefully taken her hunting expedition to the northern side of the territory, closest to the mountains. She’d been walking for over twenty minutes with nothing to show for it. The sun had just reached its peak, yet that did nothing to soften the sharp chill of leafbare. Flurry’s breath clouded around her head in the cold air.
Normally, she would have been frustrated beyond belief at such poor hunting luck. A part of her still was, mind you, but a distant part. Flurry felt… cold. Hollow. She wasn't who she once was, and she couldn't fix herself. She would have let herself waste away in the wreckage of her old home, but the stars summoned her. She was told this clan needed her, and so she came.
It wasn't the same. Those cats weren't her family. The camp wasn't the one she grew up in. She wasn't herself.
She’d nearly run into the jaws of death to escape it all. And Rita had seen it. The poor child had already seen so much, Flurry knew. She would have never let a child see her so broken before.
She never would have been so broken before.
There was no fixing it. No silencing what she had said. She had tried so hard to hide the hollowness inside herself, but she’d slipped. They knew. They stared. Flurry couldn't hide behind the facsimile of herself she had scraped together for them any longer - they just stared right through. Into the empty, hollow, dark.
Flurry paused, tail tip flicking. Had she been so melodramatic before?
Before…
Flurry’s tail began to lash. Her eyes stung. She blinked once, curious, then rapidly.
Now…? Why? She never- it didn't- nothing had happened, she-
Flurry’s breath quickened. Her chest shuddered rapidly, and she held her breath even as her throat began to ache and burn. She could cry, but she wouldn't sob, she wouldn't-
It was too soon. Barely half a year, and all of them? Stars above, all of them.
Flurry let out a choked sound. She fought against her body to keep silent, holding her breath until she no longer could and letting it out through clenched teeth. Tears flowed freely down her face.
Her little brother. Her parents. Her friends.
Another strangled not-sob. Flurry sank into the snow, curling around herself with claws unsheathed. All of them. And for what?
Even the cats she hated! She choked out a laugh. She didn't hate them that much! Stars, she couldn't imagine hating anybody that much. And she missed them. She would give anything, anything to have even one of them left. Or even just to take their place.
Why them? Why her? Flurry wanted to scream it until her throat was raw and then more still. Why her?
Slowly, still trembling, Flurry pressed her face into the snow. The cold seeped into her bones and grounded her. It felt… nice. Not comforting, but real in a way that she… wasn't. Flurry sighed as the rapid shuddering of her chest began to soften. She laid there for what felt like hours, soaking in the biting cold.
This was… nice. She hadn't felt this calm in moons.
…How long had it been since she had cried? Probably just as long. She hated how that worked. Crying was so… well, she shouldn't be doing it. At least she’d managed to hold herself together until she was this far from camp.
Flurry sighed. Her stomach ached. She didn't want to move. It felt like ages since she’d really been alone. She used to hate being alone before-
Before-
Flurry dug her claws into the snow and scrunched her eyes shut. She held her breath for a second, two…
And then the moment passed. She let her breath out slowly and opened her eyes. Her eyes trailed upwards, to the snow-covered canopy that shadowed her. The forest that made up the majority of LakeClan’s territory was almost exclusively evergreen trees, and as such the branches above Flurry were rich and green - if a bit sparser than usual. No birds flitted about above her; few birds stayed over leafbare, and those that did apparently weren't nearby.
Flurry’s stomach growled. What she wouldn't give for a nice quail right now…
Sighing, the warrior rose to her paws. Despite the growing numbness in her extremities and the ache in her stomach, she was determined not to return to camp until she found something of worth. It was all she could do.
Flurry didn't sigh again as she resumed her patrol. Instead, she stalked silently through the snow, eyes sharp and ears pricked. She wasn't that hungry anyways.
~
Flurry found more herbs than she did prey. It was surprising, but welcome considering how worried Willow had been about Vorona and her kits; while hunting Flurry had discovered a small mound in the snow, and remembering what Willow had told her on a prior herb-gathering trip, dug up the mound to find a few different kinds of herbs. And they were only half wilted!
It was nearly twenty minutes later that Flurry managed to catch a red squirrel. It wasn't exactly plump, but it would do. After collecting it and her herbs, Flurry began the long walk back to camp.
She had gone farther than she realized. As she neared the ways of camp, Flurry looked upwards. It was hard to see the sun through the canopy, but she eventually determined that it was about halfway to the horizon. She flicked her tail tip, surprised. She probably only had time to go out hunting one more time today. Unless she hunted at night…? No, it would be too cold then.
Still not entirely dissuaded from the idea, Flurry was quietly mulling this over as she dropped the squirrel off at the fresh kill pile. The herbalist’s den was next, and luckily only Lev was inside. He raised an eyebrow at her as she walked in with herbs, but silently gestured to their stores without questioning her. Flurry was grateful for that. She dipped her head to him briefly before sorting the herbs into their proper spaces.
As she exited, Flurry found herself nearly running into Dinara. The shorter molly was standing at the entrance to the herbalist’s den, just staring at her. Flurry tried to walk past her with a quick bow of the head, only to discover the deputy was following her a few paces later. Flurry stopped, then turned to face her. Dinara wasn’t glaring exactly, but she wasn't happy either. Flurry blinked, surprised. She couldn't remember seeing Dinara doing anything but smile.
“Is… everything okay?” She asked, voice hoarse from disuse. Already, Flurry’s mind was rushing to fill in the gaps. Was something wrong with Rita?
“Where were you?” Dinara’s voice stopped Flurry’s worried spiraling. Her voice was hard, but… not sharp, was the best way Flurry could describe it.
“...Hunting?” The warrior narrowed her eyes slightly in confusion. What was wrong with that?
“By yourself? After you went on dawn patrol?”
“...Yes?” And? Flurry asked silently. So what? It was her job to provide for the clan, and she’d tried to abandon it and made a mess of things a week ago. She wasn’t going to ask anybody else to pick up her slack. Not that she really wanted company right now anyways.
Dinara rolled her eyes, prompting Flurry to raise her eyebrows. Since when did Dinara have sass?
“Rita told me she didn't even see you eat before you left.” Still, the deputy didn't sound angry - at least, not in the right way. This wasn't a superior chewing out an underling, Dinara was… worried. Flurry’s eyes widened for a moment, then narrowed.
“The clan needs prey.” She replied, voice clipped. “I went to get some. Why would I eat and have to hunt more?” Another claw of hunger stabbed into Flurry’s stomach at the thought of food. She hadn’t eaten all day, but she didn’t want to, and didn’t want to be having this conversation right now. She just wanted to be left alone, or better yet, for Dinara to get angry too.
Yes, the warrior thought as a fire flickered to life in her chest, maybe I need a fight right now. She hated the stupid, worried way Dinara had been looking at her all week, and now the deputy was actually trying to stop her? Flurry’s tail tip twitched dangerously. Who did Dinara think she was?
“Flurry.” Dinara squared her shoulders and tried to look down at the taller she-cat.
Flurry copied the motion before Dinara could continue speaking, drawing herself up to her full height to glower down at the smaller molly. She wasn't much taller than Dinara - maybe an inch or two - but she was bigger, well-muscled from a life spent training. Uncertainty flickered across Dinara’s gaze. She shrank back, just a whisker’s breadth, but Flurry saw it.
A grin twitched on her lips. Then she frowned. This didn't feel right. Why not? Hadn’t she wanted this?
Flurry sighed and relaxed her body. Across from her, Dinara untensed as well. The warrior eyed her warily.
“What’s this?” A gruff voice interrupted the two mollies before anything else could be said. Flurry flinched in surprise and turned to find Damir scowling at the both of them. Flurry couldn't tell if that was his usual glare or if he was actually upset.
Did she care? She wasn't quite sure.
“I was just going hunting.” Flurry’s voice was low. She tried to move past the tom, but stopped as Dinara cried out.
“That’s her second time going out today!” Flurry winced at her deputy’s voice. “And she hasn't eaten!”
Damir stared at Flurry. She met his gaze evenly. Maybe before something inside her would have quailed to stare into the deep, cold eyes of the massive tom, but not now. Not anymore. Flurry held Damir’s gaze and felt nothing.
If he was looking for something in her eyes, he didn't seem to find it. “Is that true?” The tom spoke at last.
“It is!” Dinara spoke again, stepping closer to Damir to try to meet his gaze. “She needs to stay in camp, she’ll get frostbite if she isn’t careful!”
Damir’s ears twitched, but he barely glanced at Dinara. Instead, his eyes were trained on Flurry. Waiting.
“I need to hunt.” Flurry spoke through clenched teeth. Already, she could feel that furious fire flickering to life in her chest once more. She didn't want to fight Damir, but the idea called to her. He would give her a fight, that she knew. Not like Dinara. Would she feel it if one of those massive paws struck her? No, he wouldn't get to hit her; as Flurry glared at Damir she could see herself dodging around the massive tom, lashing out and tearing and-
“Go then.”
Flurry’s fire died out at once. “What?” She and Dinara spoke at the same time, one flat and confused and the other bordering on shrill.
“Go hunt.” Damir repeated himself, irritation creeping into the edges of his voice. “Eat first. Something small. Understood?” Again Damir fixed Flurry with a glare, and again Flurry glared right back. But… her heart wasn't in it this time. She didn't know what she was thinking. She just wanted to be left alone.
“Fine.” Flurry growled and turned to stalk towards the fresh-kill pile. She didn't even get three paces away before she heard Dinara and Damir start to argue behind her.
~
It was all Damir could do to keep his head up by the time he and Dinara were finished arguing. In the middle of camp, no less. Damir cringed as he remembered. They’d at least had the presence of mind to be quiet about it, but that still meant anyone could see. It couldn’t have put much faith in the new clan cats to see their leadership arguing, especially those that knew how tenuously he and Frost got along. Damir’s tail lashed. This entire thing was a mess. He hated playing along with StarClan’s little games, hated that they thought he was important. This entire clan thing was a joke, but he needed it. His family needed it.
Damir paused. He let his eyes close, and took in a long, deep breath. He was doing this for them. They couldn’t get through this leafbare on their own. If it all fell to pieces after that, then that was fine by Damir, but he needed it to work for that long. Hopefully all of the cats that came at StarClan’s call could go back to their colonies.
Damir’s eyes opened all at once. His tail tip flicked. What was he thinking? He knew some of them couldn’t, and that others like Nitya were better off far from their colony. He had to keep this together, for them.
Damir paused in his thoughts, taking in his surroundings for the first time. It was dark, and he could see the walls of a tunnel around him. Despite being in the mouth of a tunnel, the air around him was oddly fresh.
The warrior’s den. Damir’s eyes widened. He didn’t even realize where he was walking. He turned, hoping to leave before anyone saw him, then paused. Nobody should be in there, aside from Osa. Outside of leafbare, he would be in the herbalist’s den, but during the colder moons the entire clan slept in the underground warrior’s den to conserve warmth. Even still, Damir had been planning to go to the leader’s den to be alone.
As that thought crossed his mind, Damir felt something tug in his chest. He… actually really would like to go see his dad right now.
Mind made up, Damir traveled down into the warrior’s den. Like all of the leafbare dens, the tunnels to the warrior's den were cold and narrow. It opened up to a large, central room lined with pelts to help preserve heat. Damir’s paws sank into the plush furs covering the floor of the den, almost instantly bringing warmth to his half-frozen paws. BorealClan had put pelts into the leafbare dens underneath the main camp, but they had been very… old by the time LakeClan settled in the deserted camp. They had just barely managed to replace them all by the time leafbare started.
Across the den, Osa was curled up in a small pile of furs. Damir froze. He was asleep. Should he…?
Just as he began to edge away, Osa lifted his head. He blinked blearily, eyes narrowed towards Damir. “Damir?” A smile spread across the golden tom’s face as he recognized his son. “It’s early for you to be going to bed. Everything okay?”
Damir didn't respond. Instead, he just plodded across the den to where his dad laid. Osa moved slightly as he approached, giving him room to flop into a pile with him. The silver tom out a long breath, sinking into the pelts. Osa said nothing, only scooting closer to start grooming his fur soothingly.
It was rare Damir did this. Before Osa and Vorona had taken him in, he had been raised to be stoic and cold. His father didn't hold him, didn't groom his fur. It still felt a little childish if Damir was being honest, but… he was Osa’s schild. The golden tom never judged him for moments of weakness or exhaustion like this. He was more of a father to Damir than Sedgecreek ever was.
Osa and Vorona had found Damir when he was a little under twelve moons old. It had taken him some time to warm up to them, but not long. Damir still had his scars and plenty of rough edges, mind you, but the two kindly older cats had been the gentle support Damir needed in his youth.
If only he knew how to trust anybody else.
“This is a mess.” Damir let out a long breath, face still pressed into the pelts. Only Osa knew exactly how much Damir resented the clan and being leader. The golden tom hummed thoughtfully.
“You're doing the best you can.”
Damir huffed.
“It's not going to be perfect right away.” Osa continued. “There's going to be a lot of mess to work through. We're all strangers here.”
“It's such a stupid idea.” Damir growled. His claws dug into the pelts underneath him. How was he supposed to work with cats like Dinara? Why did StarClan have to pick his deputy?
“It worked once.”
“Hardly.”
Osa laughed softly. “It worked for generations before that, son. It’s not that different from a normal colony.”
Damir grumbled. Osa already knew his thoughts on that matter.
“The rules and traditions aren’t our own, sure, but that doesn't matter.” Osa nudged Damir gently, causing the silver tom to look up. “They're being hound-headed, trying to push us into this, true. But I know that if anybody can make this work, it's you, son.”
Damir didn't share his faith. But, he had to make this work, if only for a little while. He sighed and laid his head back down. “Thanks, dad.”
“Of course.” Osa smiled. “...Would you like to tell me what’s actually wrong?”
Damir grunted and close his eyes. Osa laughed.
“Alright, alright. How about we go hunting instead?”
Damir sat up quickly. “Hunting?” He echoed. “Are you sure?”
“My leg isn't broken.” Osa grinned. “Besides, I haven't gotten to explore the territory yet. I’d love for you to show me around.”
Damir eyed Osa warily, but eventually relented. “If you're sure you can.”
Osa laughed. “If I’m sure I can? Ha! You’ll be lucky to keep up with me.” He grinned.
A smile twitched on Damir’s lips as he stood. “We’ll see.”
Osa’s eyes glittered. “Oh? Is that a challenge I hear?” He golden tom stood, and Damir’s eyes were drawn to his injury. He tried not to look, but he couldn't help it. He knew what he'd see, but he just had to check.
Osa’s leg was gone.
His dad surely noticed, but his grin never faltered. “Well?” His voice broke Damir out of his thoughts, and the silver tom smiled.
“Not today.”
“Ah, well, that’s fine enough.” Osa shrugged. “I really would like you to show me around. Better to take it slow.”
Damir nodded. “I know somewhere you’ll like.”
Osa’s eyes lit up. “Lead the way then, son! While we still have some daylight.” Already, he was trotting out of the den. Damir trailed behind him, watching how we walked. There was an oddness to his gait that showed how Osa hadn't quite adjusted to the missing limb yet, but it was slight. Damir smiled to himself. Maybe he would be okay after all.
~
As the two toms left camp, Flurry did as well. She kept her head down, clearly trying to pass unnoticed, but even still paused with Damir just outside of camp. They eyed each other for a moment, before Damir dipped his head to her and led Osa away from camp.
Flurry stared after him for a moment, then stalked off in the opposite direction.
[ 5,555 words ]
━ level 6
experience: 177/650
━ inventory items used
x1 Shrew (Used on Frost and Damir)
x1 Spinebug (Used on Flurry)
━ active / monthly tasks:
Quest One (Finished, Damir facing the fear of Sharing Emotions)
Quest Two (Finished, Osa is Damir's adoptive father)
━ notes
used the 3 fp and x3 herbs from level up on red squirrel, marigold, foxglove seeds, and rush
━ inventory
Frog | 2 FP | x2
Chipmunk | 2 FP | x1
Red Squirrel 3 FP | 1
Hare | 3 FP | x1
Duck | 4 FP | x2 (Second)
Whitefish 4 FP | 1
Lungwort | usage | x2
Catchweed | usage | x1
Chamomile | usage | x1
Willow Bark | usage | x1
Alder Bark | usage | x1
Stick | usage | x1
Borage | usage | x1
Cobwebs | usage | x1
Deathberries | poison | x1
Tansy | usage | x1
Raspberry Leaves | usage | x1
Poppy Seeds | pain relief | x1
Lovage x1
Feverfew x1
Dock x1
Stinging Nettle x1
Water Hemlock x1
Lavender x1
Catmint x1
Marigold x1
Foxglove Seeds x1
Rush x1
