tell me more about frostfurs dreams 👀 /nf
Cultist Frostfur still has dreams about a life spent with Spottedleaf but they always end in nightmares.
cw: unreality horror, descriptive gore
The warmth of a pelt pressed against her side, and Frostpaw purred reactively, cracking an eye open and smiling as Frostpaw crouched down beside her. She laid a mouse down in front of them.
"A mouse," meowed Spottedpaw, amber eyes shining just as bright as her always-shy smile. "For you. Freshest from the pile."
"Aw, Spottedpaw," purred Frostpaw in response. "Thank you. Brightkit, come see what auntie Spottedleaf got you!"
Frostfur craned her head over her shoulder, looking for her white and orange spotted she-kit, the prettiest kit of her litter. She smiled, warmth bubbling in her chest as she saw the kitten bumble out of the shadows.
"Auntie Spottedleaf!" cried the little kit. "A mouse! For me!"
Brightkit came to a halt in front of the bloodied carcass, immediately diving her tiny head down to bite at the flesh, ripping at it with little fangs.
Frostfur shrieked, leaping to her feet as she watched her tiny baby devour the corpse---the corpse of---"Brackenkit!" she screeched. She lashed a paw out, tearing Brightkit away from the brown-furred body. Blood dripped down from Brightkit's white chin, staining her beautiful fur a horrible dark crimson.
Frostfur screamed again, jerking away from her beloved daughter as a gaping hole stared back where her left eye was. It was completely devoid of anything, a black hole of endless shadows, devouring the pretty side of her face.
Brightkit smiled up at her, teeth fanged and sharp, unnaturally so, and painted red with thick blood.
"What's wrong mama?"
Frostfur's gaze snapped up at Spottedleaf, smiling at her.
"What's wrong, Frostfur?
"Aren't you happy?"
Frostfur's head snapped up, heart pounding in her chest. Her eyes were wide, staring into the completely darkness around her before her eyes slowly adjusted, taking in the shapes of the trees around her.
Rapid breaths left her lungs as the imagine of Brackenfur's dead body and Lostface's empty socket seared into her vision. She could see them in every shadow she saw---every twitch of her own whiskers she mistook for Cinderpelt limping through the woods or Thornclaw's towering form lurking nearby.
Her claws dug into the cold dirt and she shook her head, growling fiercely as the fur along her spine fluffed, a moonhigh chill making her achingly cold.
She abruptly stood to her feet, tail lashing as she paced forward, staring at her own paws and nothing else.
The forest was quiet.