heat of the moment (shiny)

morningfrost couldn’t stand seeing the disappointment in burdockstripe’s eyes. he stood quiet and endured whatever barbed word or hard hit the tom sent his way, and he held his tongue, said, “yes, sir. i’ll do better next time, sir.” and turn the other cheek. morningfrost felt exposed and vulnerable and weak in the older warrior’s presence, yet he bore the weight and repressed whatever offense he had taken from it. the coward son hiding behind the armor of a soldier he tried so hard to become. it was exhausting, and he could scarcely stand it.

so, like the self-preserving weakling he was, morningfrost stood statuesque as burdockstripe gave one last glare and stalked away, and he bolted out of there. his paws carried him as far away as possible, wherever that may have taken him. he didn’t stop when his lungs cried for air, didn’t heed the growing ache in his legs. morningfrost just had to get out. go anywhere. escape from the bleeding wounds he wore on his pelt. he didn’t stop. not until he had run what felt like the entire forest and collapsed. blacked out. everything numb, blissful numbness. mindlessness. he hadn’t a clue where he was, what time it was. he didn’t care. away from burdockstripe and his attacks, morningfrost didn’t care about anything.

the incessant chirping of birdsong jarred him awake. hissing at the dull throb of his muscles, morningfrost blinked his eyes open. it took him a while to collect himself, figure out where he was. a glance upwards, around him, told the warrior that he had fallen asleep somewhere at the foot of the great sycamore. he had lain, curled up like a kit next to its mother’s belly, next to a gnarled root. wonderful. silverantler was probably looking for him right now, or worse, his father would be waiting for him when he got back, more furious than he was yesterday. the thought sent an icy shard through his heart.

rustling. pawsteps against the ground.

morningfrost bolted upright, back ramrod-straight. his heart beat ferociously against his chest, but he schooled his expression into something serious, mature, stony. as he saw the approaching figure of a cat, morningfrost stated, “i was out hunting, patrolling.” perhaps it was a bit sketchy, to answer a question not even voiced, but morningfrost didn’t think. stupid.

Shiny