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kale chip<3
So, Ploverpaw had got a lot done, and when he said a lot, he’d meant a lot.
Dissappearing into nowhere? Check. Returning without a word? Double check. When he’d said he needed space (which he had said, to himself and nobody else, not even Arrowpaw,) he meant it. And it’d actually been pretty good! For about, like, a day. And then the cold set in, and he’d been shivering for Starclan knows how long, and he thought to himself,
Woah, this really isn’t a joke. Being cold and hungry for a couple of moons was perfectly healthy-- Skyclan could have very well ran into a famine while he was gone, too, and nothing would have been different.
When he’d padded into camp, no-one looked very hungry. Quite the opposite, actually. And like other fourteen-moon old, he’d sulked at this fact. How could he have been so stupid? he’d asked himself. He had no mentor, and for all he knew, Arrowpaw could’ve, what. Forgotten him, asserted his sudden heterosexuality and been all over and good with the whole ‘I have anxiety and I have this special cat who I love very much because he helped me when we were little and now we’re best friends forever’ thing. Was he being overdramatic? Pshaw, of course not. These things happened, after all.
Curling tighter into himself, he feigned sleep in a particularly empty corner of the apprentices’ den. He could’ve just died here and now.