~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I choked on such longing I couldn’t spit out. Yes, desire is so different when God bore you hungry.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Centipedepaw was born during leafbare; when prey was scarce and paitence was thinner than the ice on rivers. His mother had three kits. Sturdy, loud siblings who shoved their way forward, energetic as soon as they were born. Centipedekit did not. He was the smallest, the quietest, the one who got nudged aside by their sibling’s paws. When nursery games turned rough, he was always the one to get pinned first, always third place amongst his siblings. The elders would click their tongues softly; ”He’ll have to work twice as hard.” ”The Ancestors test the weak first.” Emberclan did not speak of mercy the way clans should of. They spoke of strength, of proof, of earning the right to be watched. From the moment he could understand these words, Centi knew: The Ancestors were always watching. Told stories of The Ancestors, not of sacrifice but of dominance. Of warriors who seized what they needed. Of cats who survived because they were stronger than their foes. Centi listened harder than anyone, even his siblings. He memorized the stories, their warnings and their lessons. While their siblings boasted about being the strongest warriors in the clan one day, Centi laid awake at night worrying about something else: “What if The Ancestors did not want me?” He was small. Often tired. Sometimes scared. And fear, he was told, was weakness. So they learned to hide it. When they were elevated into apprenticeship, the name felt like a blessing and a test. They put his all into every task. They volunteered for the hardest tasks. He stayed out longer than they should during hunting practice to catch more prey. He repeated battle moves until he barely could feel their pawpads. If they failed, he’d apologize to the air… just in case The Ancestors were listening. He believes deeply, /desperately/ that they see his effort. Centipedes, praised for persistence, for their small size yet venomous, unyielding presence. The impossibility of crushing all of their long bodies. He would become just as impossible to crush.
