[nyme]

TIMID TWITCH IN YOUR WIDE EYES

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✧ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

MOSQUITOPAW . 10 MOONS . HE/HIM . SHADOWCLAN

What are you doing? Mosquitopaw's head snaps up toward the voice. This cat...one of the newer apprentices. No, one of the newest apprentices. From the most recent meeting. Mosquitopaw offers what he hopes is a very friendly smile, because that seems to be the right thing to do in this situation. This young cat is neat; he has many colors and markings, whichs means that if Mosquitopaw ever had the time and occasion to do so, he could sort and quantify color-splotches and stripes. But he won't do that right now, because it would mean staring and not saying much, and that would be weird.

"S'uh," he has to focus on the words he's about to say. Talking had always been something of a chore, but to his great chagrin it'd only gotten harder these recent moons. Something to do with how much quicker his thoughts were than his mouth, how much more of a chore it had somehow become to try and express these thoughts to others, how much more worry he experienced over it now than he once had—and this dang chill making his teeth chatter. None of it helped. So he stares at Foxpaw with big copper eyes for maybe a little too long in total silence and then explains painstakingly, "s—so uh. Look," he jabs a paw at each big lump (trees, cliff face) and then at the corresponding landmarks around camp. "I-It's home, see? The tr—uhm, trees, an-an' uh, the cli—see, the cliff, back there?" He gestures again between the biggest snow-muck-mound and then back in the direction of the real cliff face.

"And then, th—, uh, there's the dens." He pokes at each little 'den'. "We are...h—hmmm.....uh, here." He pats the ground, but that feels like a paltry way to indicate their location. Mosquitopaw chews the tip of his tongue. "Wait." And soon enough, that spot is occupied by a small, dark clump of mud scraped from his claws (this is Mosquitopaw) and a bit of wet, brown leaf (this is Foxpaw). Once, that leaf might've been a vibrant, orange-y reddish brownish leaffall leaf, but this late in the season it's just a sad wet scrap. Mosquitopaw is thinking more about what fallen leaves usually look like, which is what Foxpaw seems comparable to. You know, besides foxes.

"There, tha—, uh, that's us. Y-You're the leaf. Get it?" He pauses before ripping at the leaf to make it a bit smaller than the mud clump. The scale here is all messed up, but he can at least try to get the 'cats' right. He nods, quietly pleased by his own work, then lifts his head again to tell Foxpaw that,

"S'great."

@Fits ; FOXPAW