Dogtooth | she/her
Cinnamon tortoiseshell she cat with brown eyes
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It was a bigger evening, the kind that brought what felt like a frigid grey wind whistling through the pines. They bent and twisted against the pressure scattering more pine needles along the carved snow paths. On a day like this, Dogtooth wanted nothing more than to be cuddled up in a den with someone. Anybody, and yet she was out here against her better judgement. It made her feel even more isolated, but what cat didn’t whisk themselves away on a bitter afternoon to do some moping about? That’s perhaps what frustrated her most about being out here, she felt weak and uncertain of herself doing something so uncharacteristic. Not only was this for apprentice-hood dramatics when the guy didn’t like you back, but she felt as though she was just too far above stalking around the territory in a bad mood.

She needed someone to talk to, someone to distract her from her own ungathered and underdeveloped feelings. Though, as she thought about it now, (moping around miserably like a teenager), revelations did come. Ones perhaps she didn’t exactly want. She didn’t want to be alone, because she didn’t want to face herself. She knew consciously that she didn’t have anybody to muse over, nobody to put her full faith and trust into in order to receive love and attention. It was the very thing that kept her moving from everyday, at least decently functioning. Attention was her drug, and it was just as irresistible as the day she discovered it. What felt like lifetimes ago when she had used that long since retired beauty to attract attention from every walking thing.

Her mother used to sit her down nice and early in the morning and they would groom each other, her mother speaking gentle affirmations over her. Unfortunately, as kind a gesture it had been. There was an underlying pride that Dog had managed to hide for most of her youth, towards the end of her apprenticeship she had fed it to the point it blossomed into an ugly monster. The memories at that point of recollection had them become too overwhelming, frustrated Dogtooth whisked around a corner hoping to leave memories behind like her paw prints in the snow. The window of opportunity to return had slowly closed on her, thought nobody was really keeping count, she was afraid of returning too early with nothing to show for it. Again… nobody was really looking. But that didn’t matter, returning to camp empty pawed was something she did not want to do. Perhaps the frustration she felt at the moment was enough to prod her into any kind of motivated state.

@Sharkii