mother / maid / crone [closed]

The world remained perpetually askew atop unfamiliar origins.

The forest was land made unfamiliar; home by heritage, home by right of blood, yet just as cold and unfamiliar and alien as the austere peaks of faraway mountains. Crowded confines of tightly-knit trees and overgrowth spillage growing hostile in such a vicious sense of suffocation, the wide sky forever obscured by threadings of winter-barren branches. The sticky vestiges of a queer sense of homesick stubbornly welled high and vicious in the cavernous expanse of Kestrelpaw's chest, so very little clicking into place despite the newly-established residence of her family's true home. It was an embarrassing whisper of emotion to bear down upon, to find comfort in something so cruel and terribly not-yours- so she simply idled in the quiet underscoring of discomfort, throwing herself into Crocusfrost's teachings with a near devotional abandon.

Even now, Kestrelpaw took the miserable task of collecting moss with the utmost dedication, frightened by the prospect of being alone with her thoughts.

"Excuse me," there was a petulant note of irritation sharpening the coy mannerism, Kestrelpaw's words muffled by the heavy bundle of freshly-procured moss crammed between pristine teeth, "you are blocking the way, I cannot get by."

Little head titled skyward, soft chin and throat bared to the chilly winter sun with a quiet sense of grace, it was startling apparent to an observer that the young molly had no idea who she had bumped into. Though most of her peers and companions would dread the menial task of being made to collect bedding, especially with the wealth of a largely unexplored forest just beyond their awaiting pawtips, it was more placating to the ravenous beast of quiet sorrow to simply idle and hide away in the relative safety of camp. Even if it meant running head-long into Clanmates who weren't particularly sensitive or aware of the burdensome plight of retrieving fresh bedding.

It had been a welcomed sight to return to the place that they belonged. A journey concluded, with significantly more survivors than Mottlestar would have originally considered to have been possible. That much was a blessing that she had taken to heart, despite other preparations that had been in place.

Crossing camp, the tortoiseshell had been deep within her thoughts when the voice of a particularly perturbed apprentice startled her away from the distance her mind offered from reality. A chuckle simply echoed out, though it lacked the notes of warmth that were otherwise signature to the tortoiseshell as the harrowing realities of life had slowly ebbed it away from her. "My mistake, Kestrelpaw," Though she spoke kindly, there was amusement that clearly twinkled in her words as she stepped into the apprentice's proper field of view. The leader tilted her head, chuffing at the sight of such a large bundle of bedding carried with near-righteous indignation. "Would you like assistance? I presume your task shall be easier if you aren't carrying moss the size of your own body."

If abject mortification could don a physical appearance, it would certainly resemble the look adorned by Kestrelpaw in the moment.

Downy tendrils of freshly-stripped moss, taking shape in meticulously-formed rivulets that had been carefully accrued, were quick to find new residence against the sandy earth of camp; promptly dropped in the ensuing embarrassment and panic that sleuthed through the little molly's being at the realization of such a blunder. The words came with little rhyme or reason, the usual careful facade of serene mannerisms displayed effectively shredded under the duress of her father potentially hearing of such an encounter. Great stars above, her father chewing her ears over such things would be the least of her immediate concerns.

"Mottlestar!" Kestrelpaw exclaimed, at once apologetic and further muffled by the clinging scraps of moss, "I'm so sorry- I had no," the frenetic pulse of anxious blood made her feel flustered and hot, uncertain of the best way to fully recover. "Oh, stars! This is so-!"

The anxious, tremulous expansion of slim meant to further pacify the relentless bite of nervous breaths did little to lessen the uncertainty shaping her rattling nervous system- though it did offer some medium of cool air to lessen the rapidly mounting fluster shaping the young apprentice's demeanor. "I'm sorry, Mottlestar; I didn't realize you were there. I would certainly accept your help, but only if you have nothing else better to attend to in the moment."