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tinycoded360 · 6 days

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Sterling Household-Mushrooms

Agnes couldn't suppress the grin that tugged at the corners of her mouth, a mixture of mischief and pride blooming in her chest. Today was the day she'd venture out alone and prove her mettle as a borrower. She was feeling extra bold and would venture out in the daytime. After all, her father always prattled about how oblivious their human was. It should be a piece of cake. She’d gather some goodies from the kitchen and return triumphant. After all, the best stuff would be out now since the human would be cooking his lunch soon. So, she would have to be quick.

With a deep breath, she squeezed through a crack in the wall, her heart drumming a lively beat.

She tiptoed past the colossal form of Sterling, who lounged in the living room like a benign mountain, utterly engrossed in the pages of a thick book. The cat, Whiskers, lay curled on his lap, a soft purring mass that seemed harmless—until one remembered its predatory instincts. Agnes marveled briefly at Sterling’s size; he could, without effort, crush her or ensnare her in his palm, transforming her from a daring adventurer into a helpless pet. A shiver danced down her spine at the thought, but she shook it off, bolstered by her mission.

Agnes's tiny heart thrummed like a bird's wings in her chest as she scaled the sheer cliff of the kitchen counter.

There - on the far counter sat the mushroom basket. Agnes swallowed hard and steeled herself. She raced across the expanse, hyperaware of her vulnerability. The open space seemed to stretch on forever. At last, she reached her prize.

Up close, the mushrooms towered over her, each cap the size of her head. She gave a giddy laugh. This would show them. She reached for a mushroom stem, picturing her family's faces when she -

A thunderous meow shattered the silence. Agnes whirled around. The giant's cat - Whiskers - stared hungrily at her from the floor, mere feet away. Agnes froze. This was not part of the plan. Whiskers crept closer, and Agnes's courage melted away. She dove into the mushroom basket, burrowing deep out of sight.

Whisker’s golden eyes fixated on the diminutive figure amid the mushrooms. A low, playful growl rumbled from the cat's throat as she crouched, her tail swishing back and forth with predatory excitement. To Whiskers, Agnes was nothing more than an enticing morsel—a wriggling snack to be chased, caught, and savored slowly in the warmth of her belly.

"Whatcha hunting there, Whiskers?" Sterling's voice boomed, a gentle rumble that sent waves of dread through Agnus's tiny frame. If he looked too closely if he decided to inspect...

Agnes squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to become invisible and insignificant. Whiskers' tail flicked inches from her sanctuary, and Sterling's footsteps approached like the drumming of an oncoming storm.

"Nothing to see here, just mushrooms," she willed him to think, her fear a tangible thing in the cramped darkness. "Move along, move along..."

"Curious little thing, aren't you?" Sterling murmured, lifting Whiskers into his arms and scratching behind her ears. The cat purred, content under his touch, but her gaze lingered on the container, now still atop the counter.

Sterling tipped the container, and the mushrooms cascaded into the gaping maw of the food processor. Agnes tumbled with them, her panicked mind flashing images of the spinning blades that would surely be her end. She tried to push upwards, to somehow alert this unknowing harbinger of death, but the weight of the mushrooms bore her down relentlessly.

"Stop! Please, stop!" Her voice shrills with panic.

Sterling reached for the power button, his finger hovering so close. But in that split second, something caught his eye—a flash of color that didn't belong among the earthy tones of the mushrooms. His hand halted, and he leaned closer, peering through the clear plastic.

Shock etched into his features as he realized what—or rather, who—he was about to blend. "Oh my god," he gasped, his voice a mixture of horror and disbelief.

Sterling's hand plunged into the food processor. His fingers, gentle despite their size, curled around Agnes's minute form. He lifted her out, the mushrooms falling away from her trembling body, and set her on the safety of the countertop.

Agnes, still reeling from the near-death experience, lay there quivering, unable to fully grasp the enormity of what had just occurred. Sterling towered above her, his expression of concern and anger at the tiny, mouse-sized girl before him.

Sterling's voice rumbled like distant thunder, breaking the silence that had befallen the kitchen since Agnes's rescue. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?" he asked, his words heavy with the weight of unspoken fears.

Agnes, perched on the cold granite countertop, swiveled her head up to meet his gaze, her body trembling slightly as she registered the gravity in his tone. Sterling towered over her, a colossus clad in an apron, his expression etched with lines of genuine concern and frustration.

"Your recklessness could have ended...very badly," he continued, his voice softening but still laced with the urgency of his message. "I almost didn't see you. I almost..."

"Your parents, do they know where you are? What you're doing?" He paused, the gears turning behind his eyes. "I'm very upset by what happened," Sterling said firmly. "I have half a mind to keep you here until I can find your parents and explain what occurred."

At that, Agnes burst into tears. The thought of Sterling telling her parents and potentially exposing their entire family terrified her. They would have to move right away, and it would be all her fault.

"I—I didn't mean to," she stammered between sobs, her tiny voice barely a whisper amidst the kitchen's silence. "I just wanted to help prove I could do it too." The words tumbled out, marred by sniffles and fear.

She couldn't fathom why this giant, this human, would care about what happened to her. In her mind, borrowers were invisible, inconsequential to humans like Sterling.

Agnes shrunk back, wrapping her arms around herself in a protective cocoon.

Sterling's heart sank as he watched the tiny girl shrink away, her tiny shoulders quivering with each sob. The sternness in his voice had been meant to protect, not terrify. Crouching down, he diminished his towering form to meet her at eye level, trying to exude calm.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he whispered, "Let's start over. My name is Sterling, Sterling Silversmith. What's your name?" he asked kindly.

"A-Agnes," she replied between sobs.

"That's a lovely name," Sterling said.

Before more words could be exchanged, Whiskers leaped onto the counter, her tail twitching with interest at the sight of Agnes. A high-pitched scream tore from the borrower's lips as Sterling acted on instinct, scooping her up into the safety of his palm. The cat's curious meows filled the kitchen, pleading for the treat just out of reach.

"Shh, I've got you," Sterling soothed, his thumb brushing gently over her back while keeping her nestled within his curled fingers. "I'm sorry for scaring you again; it wasn't my intention. I just had to keep you safe from Whiskers."

Agnes, trembling, clutched his finger like a lifeline, her gaze locked onto the predator's eager eyes. There, she saw an insatiable hunger, one that understood her as nothing more than prey.

"Shh, it's okay, Agnes," he cooed, cradling her carefully while shielding her from the curious gaze of Whiskers. He ran his thumb, a giant warm pad, over her head, attempting to soothe her fears.

"Sorry, little one," Sterling murmured again, his voice laden with guilt. He held her until her tears subsided, each sob tapering off into shaky breaths.

"See? You're alright now," Sterling reassured, his voice a deep balm against the terror that had gripped her. He carefully packed her small bag with the mushrooms she'd bravely come to borrow. "You can go back to your family. I promise."

Her eyes widened, a glimmer of hope piercing the veil of her fear. He was letting her go? Relief fluttered within her chest, her breaths easing as she absorbed his words.

"Could... could I speak with your parents?" Sterling ventured, his tone gentle yet earnest. "I'd really like to understand more about you all."

"Nono, I can't!" Agnes blurted, her newfound calm dissolving. "They'll be so mad... We might have to move if they find out!"

Sterling frowned at her distress. "I wouldn't want that for you. But it's not my first time noticing your family around here. I saw your dad a few weeks ago and your siblings recently."

Agnes's gaze snapped up, wide-eyed and filled with a mingled sense of surprise and relief. A flush warmed her cheeks as she processed this revelation. "Nobody said anything," she stammered, her heart pounding against her ribcage.

"Perhaps they didn't want to cause any alarm or get into trouble," Sterling suggested with a wink.

Once safely on the floor, Agnes acted on a sudden impulse. She wrapped her arms around Sterling's thumb—a gesture so small yet filled with a magnitude of gratitude. "Thank you," she said, her voice steadying as she stepped back.

Sterling's lips curled into a warm, protective smile. He scooped Whiskers up, ensuring the feline's predatory interest in Agnes was thwarted. "Just think about it, okay?" he entreated. "I’d like to be friends, to talk with your family—not to harm anyone."

With Whiskers now safely cradled in Sterling's other arm, Agnes bolted, her tiny legs pumping furiously.

Agnes scurried back through the walls, her heart still racing from her close call. She couldn't believe the giant human had let her go with just a lecture. She clutched the bag of mushrooms closer.

As she neared the hidden entrance to her family's home, Agnes wondered if she should tell them about meeting the giant. Would they be angry? Proud? Afraid? Her father always said beans could never be trusted. But the giant had been so kind...

#giant/tiny #g/t #g/t writing #the-borrowers-au #gentle giant #giant tiny #g/t writers #reckless borrower #tiny female #giant #Sterling finally gets a name for one of the kids #Only Cassia and Emma has managed not to be spotted #Cat #Sterling almost had a heartattack

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entomolog-t · 10 months

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The Shadow We Cast

Author Notes: Content warning, but the CWs make it sound far scarier than it is. Unless you struggle with any of the topics its fairly lighthearted.

Another finished a G/t July Prompt; Bird! This takes place after Sal and Mark meet for the first time (Loosely based on this comic that I will inevitably redraw) acting as a sort of Chapter Two. The Title for their story is still up in the air and I am more than welcome to suggestion.

Word Count: 3184

Next Chapter: Chapter 2

CW: Adult language, mild gore (blood, hunting, animal death), derealization/questioning sanity

---

The warmth in the air was uncomfortably muggy. I could feel myself break a sweat and I’d barely started my trek to the outskirts of the property. It reminded me of whenever he got too close. The way he radiated heat… the way he seemed to use up all the air around me, leaving the air feeling used and wet with his breath. Stretching my arms skyward I couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of the strange human; The shared shock as we saw one another, the way he fumbled over himself to assure me he wasn’t a danger… and that hilarious scream he’d let out at the sight of my innocent little spider. I couldn’t wipe the smirk off my face. I’d never imagine I’d talk to a human, let alone spend the better part of an hour trying to get one to calm down!

The image of him, face flushed and sputtering had been comical. He’d been so embarrassed. Rightfully so. Why would a creature like him be scared of such a sweet little spider? Ridiculous. Picking up my pace, I began to jog towards the tree line, hoping those masked birds hadn’t yet found the berrying tree. Chewing on my lip, I found my mind being drawn back to the human. He’d called himself Mark. Once he’d calmed down he’d apologized up and down for his outburst. He was strange. I had sat down on his window sill as he asked question after question. What was I? Where had I come from? Why was I trying to get into his house?

His… Mark’s house had been empty for so long… was I not supposed to take my chance to see humans up close? There's something invigorating about even just being in the presence of people… When was the last time I’d even seen another being capable of conversation, let alone had a conversation? Sure, it's not like I planned on popping up directly in his line of sight, but … despite my better judgment, I found myself happy I did. I’d had my first conversation in years, and for some strange reason I was feeling as if it had left me bursting at the seams with renewed energy. Whether it was from the interaction or maybe from the strange food the colossal coward had given me… an Or-we-Oh? Was that what he’d called it? It didn’t really look like food… more like two disks made of soil with something unnaturally white between them. While it may have looked wrong, it had tasted far better than it looked.

My stomach growled at the memory. Whether it was the human food or the conversation, I’d made up my mind. I was going back. Though, not empty handed. These stupid tree-berries were always such a hassle to get.

The trunk of the tree was thinner and smoother than what grew deeper in the woods making them profoundly annoying to climb. Worse yet, the stupid branches only really broke off in a convenient fashion after a sizable climb, and even then, they grew at an such an angle that I could never just stand. The lack of hand and footholds along the lower portion of the trunk always left me exhausted, but the deep red berries were, regrettably, worth the effort.

Hand over hand and feet pressed firmly on the trunk I climbed up the tree, letting my weight hang downwards effectively anchoring my grip on the trunk. I grit my teeth. Climbing like this was always a pain. I could feel the muscles in my arms swell and ache as I made my way up the trunk. Better sore than hungry. I thought, as my hands finally gripped onto a branch. Hoisting myself up, I surveyed the scene. Those stupid birds had definitely gotten here before me, with one or two of them still darting on and off the branches. Even still, those smooth deep near purple berries were still relatively abundant.

Those stubborn pests ignored my shouts and attempts at shooing them away as I maneuvered along branch after branch, filling the sack I’d brought until it was nearly overflowing. If I had any hopes of trading that human for more of their strange food, I would need more than just a couple berries.

I sat, letting my feet hang over the edge of the branch as I tied the mouth of the bag. This was weird, right? Wanting to see a human? To spend time with them? I shook my head, ridding myself of doubt as quickly as it came. Mark had been weird, sure, but he could talk!! An unwelcome thought seemed to bubble to the surface…

How long has it been since I’ve heard a voice other than my own?

Yeah, no. Bad thought. No time for those. Rising to my feet, I heard the sudden flutter of wings as those pesky masked birds took flight, swooping away from me and deeper into the woods. Figures, they’d leave now that I-

My thought was interrupted by a resounding screech.

Fuck.

---

The sticky summer air struck like walking into a wall. I made my way out of the sanctuary of my air conditioned house, and into the frying pan my porch had become. Was this real? A tiny man... There had been a tiny man in my house. Sal… that was the name he’d given me. He was a rough looking creature, and I had no doubts after just one glance at him that he had been living outside. He had warm, sunburnt skin, and was covered in an unsightly layer of grime. I found myself wishing I had got a closer look at him, but there was no way in Hell I was getting within arm's distance of that creepy little spider he’d had accompanying him. I shuddered at the thought. The image of it crawling liberally all over him as we spoke made my skin crawl.

He’d laughed at my reaction too, as if I was the one being weird.

He’d told me he’d bring me back a treat in exchange for the Oreo. I’d half heartedly tried to tell him there was no need but… if I’m gonna be honest? I wanted him to have a reason to come back.

I stared up at the sun. The strange little man apparently wasn't very familiar with the concept of hours and had told me he’d meet me when the sun was “around there in the sky” as he pointed vaguely at an angle that seemed to suggest sometime around noon? Maybe?? I took a seat.

This was crazy. Was I crazy? I mean… a little man… a tiny yet full grown man had just pulled himself up onto my window sill? I ran my hands through my hair, my loose grasp on reality making my stomach knot. It had felt so real… but it couldn’t have been… and yet here I was, sitting on my front porch in this awfully muggy weather waiting to rendezvous with something, someone rather, straight out of a fairy tale.

The minutes dragged on lazily, as if the muggy weather made time itself move sluggishly. Fuck, was I actually losing my grasp on reality? I mean, I had seen him, heard him, but I hadn’t touched him… I had no pictures, no proof to fall back on. I felt my brow furrow as I swallowed dryly. I’d fucking lost it. Staring up at the sky, I watched as a hawk circled lazily overhead. I’d go into town tomorrow and see if I could get in with a doctor. A solid two days away from the city and I’d managed to develop some form of cabin fever. Just fucking great.

I closed my eyes and leaned back. Man, it was hot. Somewhere above, the hawk screeched, seemingly in agreement with my thoughts. I thought about going inside to get water… or better yet, a beer, but I couldn’t leave my spot. It was as if I was holding onto a shred of hope, desperate to prove to myself that the miniscule little man had really existed.

The longer I thought about him, the more doubt seemed to surface in my mind. His voice, while relatively quiet, had been deep. Did that make sense? Surely someone that small would be pitched up? Thinking back, he may have had pointed ears, but everything else seemed perfectly human-

A strange cacophony interjected into my rambling thoughts; another shriek from the hawk, although this time, much closer. There was the rustling of grass and the puffing sound from flapping wings. I cracked my eyes open and sat up. I knew they were skilled hunters but I’d never seen one in action, and although morbidly curious, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to see the aftermath of whatever poor little creature ended up in its… talons.

Poor little creature…

SAL.

I sprung up. Reality be damned. What if… what if he really was real… what if he’d been-

I pushed the thought from my mind as fast as it had surfaced. Don’t think. Just go. I ran down the stairs and out towards where I’d heard the sound, begging that the hawk had just picked off one of the little finches or waxwings that flitted about the property.

When I saw rustling in the grass it was as if my heart was trying to crawl out of my throat. No. No. No.

Please be alright… My head spun with worry as I moved aside the grass, heart sinking at the sight. A red tailed hawk moved awkwardly on top of something… something small. No feathers were scattered about, no flapping of wings beneath its grip...

Oh God…

My throat felt tight. I lunged at the creature, hoping desperately that whatever damage was done wouldn’t be fatal.

A yelp.

I nearly fell back from the soft sound of shock that came from beneath the bird. Everything seemed to slow as my brain struggled to keep pace with what I was seeing. There he was. That tiny little man… Sal… Covered head to toe in blood. I felt as my own blood drained from my face, bile rising up in my throat. He was soaked. Oh God, was it fatal? What was I supposed to do? Who was I supposed to call for help? How could I-

He smiled.

His teeth were bright white against the gruesome crimson that covered him. Why was he… smiling…? The limp weight of the hawk in my hand suddenly felt a good deal heavier. I looked from the hawk, to him and back to the hawk.

Had he…?

“Well?” He said, placing his hands on his hips and craning his neck to look at me, “Fair trade?”

Things were moving too fast for my brain to keep pace. To start, I wasn’t losing my mind. The tiny man was real… and he had killed a hawk… a dead hawk which I now held in my hand. I swallowed the urge to gag. What had he meant by trade… Oh- Oh no.

---

His face. Oh man, his face. That near death run-in was worth every cut, scrape and bruise to be witness of the realization dawning across that massive face. He turned his head back and forth between me and the redtail hanging limply in his grasp in rapid succession. He looked uneasy. I felt my smile grow even wider. There was disbelief in his eyes. I liked that. I wanted his gaze on me to stay that way. Looking at the bird in his hands I could only feel my pride grow. Fuck those stupid berries, now that was a meal fit for a human.

“Don’t worry,” I chuckled, trying unsuccessfully to wipe the bird’s blood from my face, “I’m not that rude of a guest. I’ll prepare it for you. Can’t go bringing unfinished gifts, now can I?”

I stared up at him, awaiting some kind of response. Wow Sal, that's incredible! Or Oh man, that's a pretty big bird, I doubt I can finish it all, or-

“Prepare…” The colour drained from his face. I snorted. The last family that lived here hadn’t seemed to have to do much with their meat either. Sure, it wasn’t the most pleasant experience but someone had to do it. He crouched down, staring at me with a strange expression; his brow furrowed and his lips pursed.

“Dude, that's gross. I’m not eating hawk?”

Oh.

That simple remark seemed to puncture something in my chest. I felt deflated. My smile wiped away in an instant. Did humans not eat redtail…? Why... why was it gross? That strange expression on his face suddenly seemed to come into focus in my mind; disgust.

Not wanting to look at that expression any longer, I busied myself with looking around the grass.

“Ha, oh yeah, that’s… I had something else. Um,” I felt heat rise to my face. I didn’t get what was wrong with it? What was I missing? “It should have fallen around here somewhere…”

Fuck, I felt small.

I was all too aware that even as I cast my gaze downward, he could see every movement I made. His presence loomed over me. Small. What had felt like an insurmountable feat just a few moments ago was a dismissable nothing to someone like him.

A cruel voice seemed to rise from the ether within my mind. So are you.

---

Shit.

He had been really excited, hadn’t he? He’s done the equivalent of slaying a fucking dragon, and how do I react? By saying it's gross?? I mean, the idea of eating a wild hawk most definitely is gross, and questionably legal, but… My thoughts trail off as I stare down at the crestfallen little man. He doesn’t meet my gaze. That borderline uncanny confidence seemingly eviscerated by a single tactless comment.

I chew my lip and groan, albeit, internally.

“Sal…” he doesn’t look at me, but I catch him flinching at his name, “You know… Now that I think about it, it’s probably pretty similar to turkey.” His head snaps back to me, eyes full of hope. I offer him a smile.

“I’ll give it a shot. Can’t let a great catch like this go to waste.”

It’s as if a switch goes off, and suddenly he’s beaming, his cocksure grin even wider than before. It would be an adorable sight… if not for the fact he was drenched in the blood of his prized catch. I cringed internally as I offered him my hand. He took a step back, as if unsure of what I was doing.

“You can use my kitchen to prep the meat, but only if you wash yourself off first…” I paused, “Please.”

His grin never faltered.

“You got it, Tree-Top.” Despite absolutely dreading his meal, I couldn’t help but grin right back at him.

He took a hesitant step onto my open palm, looking back and forth between my face and my outstretched hand as if asking if it was okay. I nodded encouragingly, repressing the urge to gag as I saw the tiny bloody handprint he left on my thumb. Gross. Gross. Gross.

Instead I focused on the absolutely wild sensation of holding small… human…(?) in my hand. The sensation was beyond bizarre. Nothing like holding a small rodent or lifelike doll could come close to comparing. I could feel how intentional every movement was, as if I could sense the human intelligence behind each carefully placed step. The thought that I was quite literally holding a life in my hands was overwhelming, and I teetered back and forth between excitement and anxiety.

I stood. As he rose upwards in my cupped hand, he gripped onto my thumb with an unnerving amount of strength for a being of his size. Looking down at him, my own stomach lurched. With seemingly no instinct for any form of self preservation, he leaned over the edge of my palm on his hands and knees, watching with rapt excitement as the ground disappeared beneath him. He turned his attention to me briefly, shooting me a cheeky little cocksure grin, before going back to watching the ground pass by in awe as I made my way back towards the house.

In those moments, I was all too aware of every item I had ever dropped in my life, and suffice to say it was more than a few. My heart felt as though it would beat itself out of my chest as he let himself nearly dangle off the edge of my palm. Slowly, I leaned my palm against my chest and curled my fingers inwards. Sal was unphased with the change in position, absentmindedly shifting to standing, his feet perched firmly on my pinky while he leaned precariously over my index finger.

His excitement only seemed to grow as we entered the house. His head was constantly on a swivel, taking in every detail he could catch. Which arguably wasn’t much as I hurried toward the kitchen counter, the sticky feeling of quickly drying blood on my hands leaving my skin crawling. Ew. Ew. Ew.

“Stay right there.”

Placing him and the bird beside one another on the counter I hurriedly turned on the sink, letting out a deep sigh of relief as the rush of water cleaned my hands. The last thing I needed was a bloodied little man exploring the area where I made my food. I bit my lip, trying my hardest to keep the disgust from forming on my face, not wanting to upset my gruesome little guest.

“Here,” I grabbed a table cloth and wet it, offering it to the little man. He didn’t hesitate to begin wiping himself down. As I went to lay out a cutting board, I paused, my stomach sinking. Fuck, I thought, am I going to have to … I grimaced.

“Um, hey man, are you going to need me to-” He cut me off with a wave of his hand, shooing me away as he strode over to my knife block as if this were his kitchen.

“No, no,” he said dismissively “I got it.” He smiled over his shoulder as he yanked out a serrated knife from the block. Nope. Don't wanna see this. I turned to leave, but a small shout made me pause. Sal stood atop the hawk, knife slung over his shoulder like an oversized video game sword, waving me down with his free hand.

“Can you grab me a bowl?”

“Why do you-” he cut me off,

“Organs.” I gagged and silently prayed he didn’t notice. Right. Gross. I tried to hide the revulsion as I plopped a bowl down on the counter, averting my gaze from the carnage on the cutting board. I needed a beer. Or four. Not wanting to wait around in case Sal thought I could make myself useful I disappeared down the hall, now more thankful than ever that I had kept my college mini fridge as a beer fridge away from the kitchen.

#TWO POSTS IN ONE DAY??#An absolute mad man #Sal is basically a cat #Mark is going to spend the next 3 weeks cleaning his kitchen #CW blood #cw derealization #cw animal death #Giant/tiny #G/t #g/t writing #The Shadow we Cast #SalOC #MarkOC #Entowrites #Borrower au #g/t story

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butch-lionblaze · 15 days

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Wc au writing, BlueQuince meeting and a lot of talk on how she loves:

(brief mentions of blood and lots of memories.)

Bluemoon loves in the way of a warrior, the only way she’s ever learned how to. She learned it from a father who was in her life like the passing storm he was, a distant drop of rain to an overpowering force tearing the trees from their roots. She never got her mother’s version of affection besides in the self sacrificing way. Her sister got that piece of her as well.

Her love is of service. A duty. She showed it by wrapping around those who were worthy and never letting anything get in. Or at least trying to not let anything in.

(The horrible feeling of cold crept in under her well made shell and stung. Ice, frost, snow, an impossibly small kit only covered in down succumbing to its greedy teeth. It’s little evergreen tail lost in the endless white winter around them.)

She knew the land that bowed to her step like its endless twisting trunks grew from her own body. An ever stretching expanse of green leaves and brown bark. The rocks under her paws were always the same. The birds singing above were always the same. The swaying shadows were always the same. It all held her like the warm pelt of another. She was alone yet so set in her place out here. She was of the moss and flowers, her blood pulsed and bled out into it all around her.

But the normal sound of her feathered fellow was cut off- and everything was new. Startling so.

(That same chill stabbed through the few unprotected parts of her and she felt herself shiver once again. No snow, no snow, no snow-)

Her legs warped and ran her forward. They didn’t need her brain to instruct their movement, they knew the ground underneath it, they knew to go before she froze to the forest floor. The act made her warmer. Blooming in her with an adrenaline that put her in overdrive.

Bluemoon broke out through a thorn bush, not even feeling its claws dig into her. And she was still hot. No longer from the forced movement that overtook her- no now it was from the anger that made her body bare up to fight. Thistleclaw stood behind his apprentice, the young naive Tigerpaw, instructing the striped kit to attack a scrawny little thing. It was shaking. The vibrations passed through the land and right into her own stiff stuck legs, like how she could sense a mouse hiding in a burrow. She knew the pairing of Thistleclaw with any young one would go bad but this. This was over the line. Sunstar had only done it to try and appease the enraged warrior after he was passed over for deputyship.

She felt herself barrel into Thistleclaw, paws against his back pushing him into the dirt, his grey fur tangling into her drawn claws. But instead she swiped her tongue to stop this- whatever this even was.

“Thistleclaw what do you and your apprentice think you’re doing?” She asked, letting her claws sink into the earth to hold herself in place while she spoke. He turned to her with a heat, his hatred for her boiling up once again. Tigerpaw stepped back and slunk down, suddenly realizing the white warrior was here. That wounded kit was still shaking and frozen in place despite being able to escape now.

Thistleclaw puffed himself up and pushed his voice to be more confident and less outright angry at her intrusion to his ‘training’. “I’m teaching my apprentice to defend his clan.”

“This is not how you train Thistleclaw. Defending borders doesn’t include attacking a lost kitten!”

All he did was give a lick to his chest, as if he was in the right. Tigerpaw still kept himself small. She couldn’t help but soften her expression when it went to him. “This kittypet crossed into our woods, and my apprentice was teaching it a lesson. Do you want more soft bellied pests in Thunderclan’s land? Taking our food when they have enough given to them for nothing? We would starve is all these collared self called cats decided they wanted to try warm blooded food for themselves!”

Bluemoon bristled at the way he spoke like he owned the tabby, and she hissed lowly at how he took this time try and call her weak. “The kittypets know the woods aren’t for them Thistleclaw and thrashing an innocent kit won’t stop the occasional hunting by them-” While she hated it, she steeled herself into a boulder and tried to end this.

“-And I would hate to have to report your bloodlust and bad teaching to Sunstar. If he saw this clear lack of honor he’d be sure to replace you as Tigerpaw’s mentor. Maybe to someone he actually trusts.” Her words hit like a falling branch, knocking his head in and making the grey tabby shrivel. A sneer showed across his previously smug face, that underlying grudge growing again. She knew if he forgot the power she had over him he would’ve thrown himself at her right here. He might’ve done it anyways, if he was entirely sure he could actually defeat her.

Instead of putting himself in a worse place he twisted his head to Tigerpaw and called the apprentice to follow him, slinking away with heavy paw steps.

Bluemoon had to hold herself from grabbing Tigerpaw and not letting him back alone with Thistleclaw. But that would’ve only ended with the two grown warrior fighting. If she saw him like that again though she would be sure to report him to Sunstar. And he knew that.

Finally, as the heat drained from her and into the cooler earth she looked to the injured kit. It was small, and almost all black with one white paw. It’s huge glazed over blue eyes burning a hole through her. That love, her version of it, reared its powerful head and almost took over all of her. She felt herself again in that stuffy nursery, in a nest she never imagined herself back in, with three little paws kneading her belly. That same exhaustion almost made her collapse beside the kit but she wasn’t there. She was here. And it wasn’t hers. Still she loved it despite the sharp part of her sinking its teeth into her and telling her to never get attached again.

She shook it out and drew a tongue over the hits head. Trying to stop its shaking.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. It’ll be okay.” She cooed as she licked away the salty blood that welled from the wounds across the kits face. It would scar. That set the dying embers of anger in her belly back alight. But she tried to keep that away to focus on the current kit in front of her.

Bluemoon didn’t know really what she was supposed to do at this point. It was a kit from a house, the smell of those places mixed in with the milky scent was there, even under its smell of overwhelming fear. It was probably hungry too. And cold.

(The temperature of this mystery kitten made her chest tighten. Her nose was frozen again. It was winter again. It was winter again. The sound of the river distant as the grief stabbed into her gut. She couldn’t save-)

She pulled her head from the frost and tried her best to warm it up. Small and frail against her, almost lost in her longer coat. She could save this one. She could save this. After a bit of curling around the kitten in silence, the warrior pulled her tongue from the place it stuck to in her mouth. As if it would shatter from anything above a whisper, she spoke so soft the wind could’ve easily taken her words away.

“Where’s your home kit?”

It looked up at her. Blue eyes slightly less clouded over. “O’er the fence. One with the bush”. Its voice was small and shaky still, with that kitten talk that made her melt immediately.

“I’ll bring you back kit. It’ll be okay. It’ll be okay.”

The warrior walked the strange streets and felt so out of place. The ground wasn’t soft or kind or comforting in anyway. It was the most disconnected she’d ever felt. The stronger breezes felt like they could steal the kit from her jaws. She didn’t tighten her hold but she did puff herself up bigger to combat it. Tall branchless trees stood over her and glowed unnaturally. Little stars seemingly trapped in their tough cages illuminating the black paths that carved between the many houses all around. They’d lit up just a little while ago but they still freaked her out. How had twolegs been able to catch the stars themselves? And why put such forces into these strange traps? It was wrong. She imagined her sister’s own spirit stuck in one. That made her stomach twist so bad she’d had to stop and duck into a darker more compact trail to breathe.

Now out of her hold and a little less shaky, the little kit stood and stretched a bit. Though it was slowly and with its eyes watching her the whole time. As if worried she’d snap it in half for stepping wrong. They stayed there for a while to rest. The sound only that of monsters roaming the paths and other strange clanging noises Bluemoon had no idea about.

“Thank you Miss.” the kit said shyly, looking down at its paws with a little bit of a frown as if upset by its own tongue.

“No need for thanks kit. Those cats never should’ve attacked you. I’m sorry they hurt you hon-“ she swallowed the endearing term. She couldn’t get attached.

The kit looked at her again with those eyes. So so blue. She didn’t know if its eyes were just that color or if it was still young enough to have that innocent blue in its eyes. Either version made her angry at Thistleclaw.

It had a thought at the tip of its tongue, possibly worried at what saying it would do but wanting to anyways. Finally the kit gave in and spoke “My names Tiny.”

“Hello then Tiny. I’m Bluemoon.” The name fit the little kit but she couldn’t help but feel like the name was half thought. It’d be tiny forever. She’d of named it something more like Midnight, for its incredibly dark pelt and startling white paw- the fact that slipped into her thoughts made her shiver. Cold again. Always cold. This wasn’t her kit. The sooner she found its nest the sooner she could move on.

“Blue… but you’re not blue.”

Bluemoon couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Her mind moving past at least. “No I am not blue but that’s just what I was named. Moon makes it a little more suiting doesn’t it?”

The kit- no Tiny thought for a bit and then nodded. Still a little confused but not going to question her name. Funny little thing. Though she wondered about how considerate it was of its words. Most kits just said what they thought freely. It reminded her oddly of herself. She hoped this kit wasn’t too much more like her though.

“Tiny do you know the way to your home? I’m pretty lost here.” Bluemoon asked as she stretched, getting ready to start walking again. She wouldn’t like to be here all night, especially not with such a small kitten. It was most definitely hungry by now.

Tiny shook its head slightly but then lifted its eyes back up as if figuring something out. “It’s next to a blue one though. And its fence is brokn.” It said, a long yawn following the little description. Poor thing. But Bluemoon now knew she was looking for a blue house. Well the house next to one but that would be easier to find. The warrior dipped down and scooped up the kit carefully, tucking it closer into her fur so it was slightly more covered as she walked forward.

Bluemoon had found two houses so far but neither had a house next to them with a broken fence. Her paws felt shredded from the rough terrain and her muscles were sore, walking and holding a kitten for so long was really wearing her out. Finally after she climbed up on a roof she saw another blue house. If this wasn’t the one she’d start her way back home.

The building wasn’t far from the woods and she probably would’ve checked it initially if she hadn’t started her searching already farther into the twolegplace. The house looked like most of the rest of them. Plain strange walls. So many objects she had no words for. Before she went up to check around she said a small prayer. And then she walked forward, coming from the front to then climb into the fence to see into it. The yard was like most of the rest as well except bushes lined the back wall. It wasn’t that odd but maybe, just maybe this was the one? Bluemoon did a quick look around before jumping down and luckily only smelled cat here.

Her heart soared as her ears caught the wailing of a cat, an anxious cry that made her know she was in the right place. Carefully the white cat jumped down and set Tiny at her paws. Having heard her the one that was yelling came around, looking almost like she was going to try and chase Bluemoon off herself but switching immediately upon seeing the little kitten.

She was a chubby black molly with warm eyes and odder white markings. She was small in stature but something about her gave Bluemoon the feeling like she could’ve beaten her if she had attacked immediately.

“Oh Tiny! Oh my baby my baby!” She sobbed as she carefully wrapped herself around the kitten, frantically licking warmth into its skin. The mother switched back to defensive when she noticed the new wounds in her kits face. The fur on her back lifted and hackles raised, now launched up to stand over Tiny with the power of a protective mother. Blue backed off and made herself less threatening, which was hard as she was rather tall compared to Tiny’s mom. But before anything happened Tiny moved between them.

“Momma momma momma! It’s okay it’s okay! Blue bought me here. She didn’t hurt me she helped me get back!” Tiny cried, trying its best to look bigger and break through its mom’s anger. Luckily she listened. Tiny’s mother softened slightly but still pulled her kit closer to her again.

The two cats just stared for a second. The distant crickets chirping as if it was a normal night. She only wished it was.

But the black and white molly relaxed more at last and laid down, her head nudging the ground to tell Bluemoon to as well. “Thank you for bringing back my little trouble. I don’t know how to make it up to you. I don’t know what id do with myself if my baby never came home.” She said kindly, blinking gratitude into her gaze. Bluemoon blushed a bit and tucked her paws underneath her fur to be more comfortable looking.

“No problem miss-“ She started to say before the molly cut in.

“No need for any misses. it’s Quince. Any cat who takes care of my babies gets to know my name.” Quince said with a laugh that made her smile with just its sound.

“Well then Quince my names Bluemoon. It was no issue getting it home, I just hope Tiny’ll be okay with the scratches and all.” She finished saying, a smile across her face as she tried to not take too much complimenting. The kit never should’ve been hurt in the first place. Guilt grew in her again. Some amount of it always hurt in her, but she tried to keep it from her pelt.

Quince shook her head harshly “Bluemoon… you’re one of those outside cats aren’t you?” She asked with a little edge of unease in her voice again.

Bluemoon swallowed carefully, trying to figure out what to say exactly. How is she supposed to respond? She is of course but she didn’t know if the fire would leap back her new acquaintance if she said so. But she couldn’t lie.

“Yes ma’am I am. I’m a warrior of Thunderclan-“ She started to say trying to be as careful as she could, still not knowing how she should explain all that happened. “- but I didn’t hurt your kit. Another warrior did and I promise you he will get a punishment for it. Warriors aren’t supposed to attack any cats that can’t defend themselves, and are never ever to harm a kitten. If you’d like I can head back. All I wanted to do was make sure Tiny got to a safe place.”

The cat across from her clearly didn’t know how to respond either. She had started to bristle back up again but the fur laid down as Bluemoon spoke. And she now just watched, eyes searching across her own to see whether she believed her or not. Presumably she wasn’t worth attacking because Quince went back to being more comfortable, that gratitude glowing in her face again. She bit back her own thoughts on that. Better to not show a lot of herself to a stranger. Let alone the things that bother her.

“Well thank you then. I hope he is dealt with however you warriors deal with your own.” Quince passed another lick down Tiny’s face before she got up and took it inside, probably to rest. That kitten needed plenty of sleep after the day it’s had. A want to follow made her twitch but she bit it off again. That’s not her business. She wasn’t Tiny’s mother. For a bit she sat there in the grass waiting to see whether she was to leave or stay. It was darker with the strange light coming from the inside of the home into the yard. But she stayed mostly in the natural light, looking at the moon above her. Finally at last she decided it would be best to leave so she got up and jumped to the top of the fence. She could’ve gone under the bushes and out the broken part but the would involve more noise and scrambling then she wanted.

But as Bluemoon stood ready to make her leave Quince came back out from the house.

“Hey! Don’t leave just yet Blue- not without a final thank you.” The black cat called and Bluemoon immediately turned around. She didn’t know why. A deep part of herself told her to leave. She wasn’t even supposed to speak to kittypet’s in the first place, and now she had wandered through their domain for hours to give back a kitten. But what was a little longer in the end? Shoving it down she jumped back to Quince. She knew if her father were here he’d of grabbed her by the scruff and dragged her back like she was a kitten herself.

She stood in front of Quince who looked at her in a way that made her forget her father entirely.

In the round cat’s maw was a flower, its blue petals stiff but beautiful. It didn’t smell like anything close to other flowers.

“I don’t know if warriors have these sorts of things but it feels wrong to not give a gift for you bringing me back Tiny. It’s just a fake but it’ll never wilt.” Quince had dropped it on the grass and was looking right into her own eyes, and Bluemoon almost felt like she was blessed. The stars blinked above her as if to say, go on, to her. The warrior had never felt so lost for words. And despite only just meeting her she felt the same protectiveness well up and wash over her. She felt like a guardian to Quince and her kits. She felt like her only duty was to her. She was a loyal warrior and yet now she had another to care for. So much took over her that she simply blinked before grabbing the gift that felt more special then anything else in her life. And even though she hadn’t said anything to Quince the cat dipped her head and turned back around to go to her house with its warm light and odd smells.

Bluemoon barely even felt her body as she turned around and leaped over the fence. Didn’t acknowledge as the trees blurred around her and the stray plants brushed against her. She felt the rocks under her paws but she also now felt the cats that were far behind her.

As she made her way back to camp she stopped and sat under a tree she hadn’t visited in a while. One with five stones and beautiful moon flowers around it. Tucking herself in its sheltered scoop of roots, she slept. A new flower tucked right at her chest.

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