[duckie]

FRECKLECRY
__________

Frecklecry had sat stuck in the same nest since the battle for the cove and they were sick of it. The first couple days they slept away in a haze, never more than half-awake at any given time. When they finally came to to, the news of Loonpaw's death was delivered to them. In her heart, she already knew it. From the moment she was the apprentice limp on the battlefield that knowledge was stuck in her head - she just didn't want to accept it.

The delirium of exhaustion combined with the adrenaline and pain of battle allowed her to pretend it wasn't true. Hearing it from someone else, however, forced it to sink in. The next few days were spent not wanting to move or eat or drink or talk to any of her peers. Eventually the feeling receded, taking a seat towards the back of her heart. Faded but not forgotten.

Now? Frecklecry was itching to move - to do anything but it in that stars-damned nest. Nearly a moon they had sat in that stinky den and her pelt reeked of herbs. Her walk was wobbly - like that of a newborn kit - from disuse of her body, but they ignored it and pressed on. They intended to take themself out on a hunt but exhaustion quickly set in and she made it no further than the camp entrance.

"When did I get so out of shape?" she hissed to herself, plopping down in the sun to take a rest.

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