Rose picked her way carefully through the sea of grass, a mere ripple upon the ocean. Under the enormous expanse of the pale skies, she was no more than a speck, traveling onwards with nary a purpose, letting her paws take her where they would. Her rest at the barn with Whisper Ear and Bracken Wing had been pleasant, a time to rest her paws and fill her stomach in relative safety, and yet the time had come for her to move on. Ever onwards, ever southwards, a relentless trek to a destination unknown.
Sparrows danced on the wind, taking the same path as she did, overhead one moment and mere dots on the horizon the next. They were the fortunate ones. Here, in the swaying sea of grass, any number of dangers could lurk; foxes, coyotes, snakes, hidden burrows for Rose to trip down. Somehow, however, she doubted this place was frequented by other cats. It was too exposed, too open, with no shelter from the elements should the weather turn foul. Already the clouds on the horizon made her pelt prickle with unease.
Just focus on putting one paw in front of the other.
The vast expanse of the seemingly endless plains ate away at her. It was so open. So empty. For miles around, there were no other thinking creatures. Just her, the wind, and the moor. No-one to laugh with, no-one to ease the journey’s burden, no-one to urge her forwards. No one to trust in, to turn to, to smile with through the tears when everything almost went horribly wrong. Rose scuffed her paw on the dirt, steps slowing to a trudge. The rustling grass, the only sound she had heard for hours, grated on her nerves. If only… things could’ve been so different.
She hated it here.
The realization sunk in slowly. The distant sun, the pale skies, the open emptiness surrounding her tiny form… there was nobody else. Nobody at all. It reminded her horribly of her first few months of travel, stunned by grief, hunted by starving predators, surviving through sheer luck. At least she’d had company at the barn, albeit cats she hardly knew, and yet… and yet, she would rather have someone, anyone, than no one at all.
Rose slowed to a stop.
The cats around the barn had been… kind, almost, most of them, and none quite as savage as the coastlanders. There were cats she could, perhaps, learn to trust, cats who would support her through any storm or trial. There was a warm nest she’d left behind, there, and warm voices that, while not overly-welcoming, had gone out of their way to help. To comfort. The nest Whisper Ear had made for her, unbidden, unprompted, came to mind, and suddenly, wildly, she regretted declining it. It had been the safe choice, the cautious decision, the route that would be most likely to keep her alive, and yet. Trust had to be on both sides. She could not expect trust from a cat she distrusted. To land softly, one had first to take the jump.
Rose turned and set her face against the wind. She had been running for long enough. For now, for a season, for as long as she wanted to, she would linger. She would stay. The prey here was enough to sustain her, harsh season though it might be. Even if Whisper Ear and Bracken Wing, understandably, did not want her back, that forest was still one of plenty, a place of abundance compared to the land of the grinding ice, from whence she had fled. There were cats to meet there, friends to make, perhaps even a family to be found.
One could but hope.
