The Pit Tw: Drowning
TawnyKit kicked at the dirt with her small white paw, huffing as she laid down on the flattened dirt. She could still feel the phantom touches of bugs crawling on her, and the scratches on her shoulder burned.
Dada had said that they would heal. But it’s been who-knows-how long and they still dripped and stung.
In a blink of an eye the sky flashed above and a loud crackle sounded through the darkened sky.
It began to spit, washing mud off of her fur and causing her paws to sink.
She curled up around her paws, head ducked under her paws to stay dry.
-
She couldn’t breathe.
Her lungs ached and her ears rang as she struggled against the surface, the water far above her head and causing her to have to swim desperately to stay afloat in the pit.
Her paws scraped at the walls, trying to grab onto something, anything.
She gasped for breath with every sip of the waves, and tried to hook her claws into the mud. It slipped out of her claws, dropping her down into the water and knocking her head against the ground as another boom of thunder sounded.
She was going to die a second time.
Her whole body burned with straining muscles and she felt bile rising in her throat as she screamed into the storm, begging for anyone to notice her.
Maybe her dada was right, maybe she was meant to die out here.
A strike of lightning lit up the top of the pit, revealing a cats figure shadowed by the rain.
For a brief moment she thought it was her father, and she wasn’t sure if she was meant to be terrified or relieved.
Nonetheless, the strange cat pulled her out by the scruff, and for the first time in many moons she felt grass.
Her joy was covered by a fit of coughs racking her chest, her fur so cold the white spots might as well have been LeafBare snow.
The cat nudged her, and she flinched away in instinct. They picked her up, and as she hung limply in the strangers jaws, her head spun and she cried out for her family.
-
She looked so much like HornetLeg. She was so small, and mud covered. Her already thin fur clung to her pelt leaving the ridges of her ribs exposed.
LoonFur stood awkwardly at the entrance of the den, and FleaThistle gave her a warm look.
“Thank you for leading me to her. If you hadn’t heard the cries and ran for help I think she would have died,”
LoonFur gave him a quick smile, saying she was glad she could help, and ducked out of the den to head back to her own before the mud became too steep.
FleaThistle leaned down and began to lick the kit clean, ignoring his own dirty fur.
After he’d groomed her, he padded the moss around her small body to keep her warm.
He ducked out of the den, blinking against the strong rain pouring into his eyes. It was difficult to get to JackDaw and FernDoe’s den in the storm, his paws slipping and the muddy water going up to his shoulders at times.
He glanced up at the trees when he heard a branch crack, and saw GremlinFrost’s small frame staring down at him.
“FleaThistle? What are you doing out?”
FleaThistle hauled himself onto a tree stump just out of the mud so that he could stand without sinking.
“I need to talk to FadingStar,” He panted, blinking back tears as the mud stung the cuts on his torso.
“In this storm? Head back home, I’ll get him for you,” the blue eyed tom shook his head, and his voice sounded far too old for his age. He was barely an apprentice, and FleaThistle’s heart ached, wondering if he was alone out here.
-
She woke up in a small den, thin, twig like roots from a tree stump poking out of the walls and brushing her fur.
TawnyKit whimpered, lifting her head as she pulled herself into a sitting position.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a small, brown-grey tom poked his head up, carrying a mouthful of leaves.
TawnyKit blinked, tagging in the sight of cuts lacing down his fur, chunks of flesh held on with poultices and bandages.
His ear was almost completely missing, more so a stump. Despite his injuries, somehow she felt calm. His eyes were warm. Kind.
He looked though, almost fearful.
“Who are you?” She coughed, her voice hoarse.
“My name is FleaThistle! And.. and you are?”
“TawnyKit,” she chirped, tucking her tail over her paws as she shivered, her fur still slightly damp.
The tom—FleaThistle—nodded, placing a few leaves in front of her. They were a bit crunchy, but she ate them anyway.
“Do you remember what happened?” He asked gently, sitting down in the nest next to her.
At the back of the den, two small brown toms were curled up, snoring lightly. Their nest was decorated with pebbles and feathers, and FleaThistle gave them a warm look before turning back to her.
“I remember drowning. And someone pulled me out,” she sniffed, her pelt prickling and ears flattening at the memory.
“Well.. that was me. Do you know if your parents are here?”
“My dad, HornetLeg. My clan said he was a bad cat,”
FleaThistle froze, before shivering and leaning over to smooth his pelt down. He took a few deep breathes.
“I’m sorry sweetie, but he’s not here anymore.”
She nodded, pressing her paws into the moss bed to ground herself.
“I can take care of you, if you’d like. My husband and I spoke about it and we’d be happy to,” His voice was soft, gentle.
TawnyKit thought for a few moments, looking around the comfortable den, and into FleaThistle’s kind eyes. She’d be safe here.
“I’d like that,”
———
I’d love to know what anyone thinks of this!
LoonFur, JackDawFoot, and FernDoe belong to @residents-of-the-darkforest
FadingStar belongs to @liberhoe
StumpPaw belongs to @ambitiousauthor
HornetLeg, FleaThistle, TawnyKit, GremlinFrost are my characters
