Post by Kitsu <3 on Jan 19, 2009 17:16:59 GMT -5
how many times can i break till i shatter
vermin
over the line, can't define what i'm after
Verminkit flicked his ear back, claws flexing on the cold terrain. He honestly didn't like his name; the first part was . . . okay, but why did he have to be like all the other kittens? He was mature and smart, more . . . accelerated, he supposed, than the others. He may have only been five moons of age, maybe five and a half, and was going to be due for an apprentice ceremony, but he wanted-- no, needed-- one now. His coat fluffed up as the little flakes of snow splashed softly onto the ground. "Stupid, worthless crap," he muttered, sneezing as two flakes made it up his nose. He struggled on, his small body sometimes not even half the size of many of the drifts he was fighting past. Why had he bothered leaving camp? Sneaking out had been hard enough, his prints indenting on the snow. He'd had to break a hole in the rough nursery's walls, then carefully slip through and only stand lightly on the branches. Light as he was, when he jumped onto the outer roof of the nursery a stick had fallen in. He was lucky that there was a huge layer of snow; even though he'd probably have to help clear it out, the weight of the snow would be a valid excuse. Treading lightly, he'd leaped several fox-lengths away and fled into the forest . . . after digging his way out of the drift.
Vermin had to be careful now, even, in case he was being followed or an apprentice was relaxing off where he was headed. Elders had told the tom old stories about how a large collection of rocks had gotten where they now were and how they looked that way. He looked up from the snow at his cold, black paws, checking to see if he could find the stones. A huge snowdrift, maybe as tall as a sapling, stood in his way. Vermin hissed in frustration and backed up several paces, then took a running leap at it. When he was a tiny bit higher than the drift itself, he realized that he'd underestimated the length of it and landed with his head covered in snow only halfway through. His claws swiped forth and pushed a clump of snow away, taking in a quick breath before he was forced to inhale snow. Thrashing his paws, it took a moment to finally get his head above snow. When he looked up at the bright but cloudy sky, a snowflake landed on his nose and he gave a sigh of annoyance at how low he was. Half the drift towered over him. Slashing the snow again, he made several footholds and pulled himself onto the first one. It was too thin; he leaned back toward the hole. Thrusting his hind paws, his muscles slammed him forward and onto the second grip, then onto the top of the drift a little too hard. His paws sank a few inches; before he could be swallowed up again he jumped onto a much smaller drift off to the side.
He felt the grass beneath his paws when he fell. That was fine; the snow pile hadn't even been as tall as him. Swiping it away with his tail, Vermin backed up and this time walked around the drift instead of allowing himself to get caught in it again. The snow here was going up to his belly. Maybe he should've stayed at camp. What's done is done, he thought absentmindedly. The elders had been right; the rocks held eerie shapes, worn down. Pawprints marked a few. Vermin leaped onto it, paws scrabbling for a hold among the snow. One he found one he pulled himself onto the stone and swept the snow away with his paws and tail. They looked even weirder when you were actually standing on one, he realized.
Vermin had to be careful now, even, in case he was being followed or an apprentice was relaxing off where he was headed. Elders had told the tom old stories about how a large collection of rocks had gotten where they now were and how they looked that way. He looked up from the snow at his cold, black paws, checking to see if he could find the stones. A huge snowdrift, maybe as tall as a sapling, stood in his way. Vermin hissed in frustration and backed up several paces, then took a running leap at it. When he was a tiny bit higher than the drift itself, he realized that he'd underestimated the length of it and landed with his head covered in snow only halfway through. His claws swiped forth and pushed a clump of snow away, taking in a quick breath before he was forced to inhale snow. Thrashing his paws, it took a moment to finally get his head above snow. When he looked up at the bright but cloudy sky, a snowflake landed on his nose and he gave a sigh of annoyance at how low he was. Half the drift towered over him. Slashing the snow again, he made several footholds and pulled himself onto the first one. It was too thin; he leaned back toward the hole. Thrusting his hind paws, his muscles slammed him forward and onto the second grip, then onto the top of the drift a little too hard. His paws sank a few inches; before he could be swallowed up again he jumped onto a much smaller drift off to the side.
He felt the grass beneath his paws when he fell. That was fine; the snow pile hadn't even been as tall as him. Swiping it away with his tail, Vermin backed up and this time walked around the drift instead of allowing himself to get caught in it again. The snow here was going up to his belly. Maybe he should've stayed at camp. What's done is done, he thought absentmindedly. The elders had been right; the rocks held eerie shapes, worn down. Pawprints marked a few. Vermin leaped onto it, paws scrabbling for a hold among the snow. One he found one he pulled himself onto the stone and swept the snow away with his paws and tail. They looked even weirder when you were actually standing on one, he realized.
i always turn the car around
give me a break, let me make my own pattern
