Post by Ibiswing on Dec 26, 2013 10:42:49 GMT -6
It had been a while since the Hunger Games- five moons, maybe six?- and Ibiswing still wasn't used to being dead. The she-cat still woke up every day thinking she'd wake up in her brambly, thorny, deliciously imperfect nest in RockClan. She still dreamed of her old friends every night, though their faces were fading from her memory. Every time she caught a glimpse of the starry sheen to her pelt, it startled her.
It was desperately lonely up in CloudClan. She barely saw Cloudbreeze or Tuftfeather or Falconwing or any of her fellow spirits, and her days mostly consisted of hunting (which was too easy, since the prey was always ridiculously plentiful) and being constantly bombarded with flashbacks from the Games and her own death. Tuftfeather's body under the wheel of the monster, Cherryleaf leaping into a wall of flames, Willowbreeze gasping as the coil of wire tightened around her neck. And the feeling of a claw ripping through her throat as she leapt to save Cloudbreeze. She would never forget how it had felt to have life leak from her bit by bit.
Ibiswing grimaced, got to her feet, and began walking through the starry forest.
It was desperately lonely up in CloudClan. She barely saw Cloudbreeze or Tuftfeather or Falconwing or any of her fellow spirits, and her days mostly consisted of hunting (which was too easy, since the prey was always ridiculously plentiful) and being constantly bombarded with flashbacks from the Games and her own death. Tuftfeather's body under the wheel of the monster, Cherryleaf leaping into a wall of flames, Willowbreeze gasping as the coil of wire tightened around her neck. And the feeling of a claw ripping through her throat as she leapt to save Cloudbreeze. She would never forget how it had felt to have life leak from her bit by bit.
Ibiswing grimaced, got to her feet, and began walking through the starry forest.
