Chapter three: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/730419325/ The gray semi-circle on the ground is where the snow-bed is, where the white cat laid. ———————————————————— This is an extension projects. If I run out of room in the original project, an extension project will be made.
The kit would be too panicked to break out the dirt, and would be stuck in there for an hour or so before the kit’s parent came looking. But he never kept them for long, or else he knew he would get in trouble. \Maybe it’ll be like the old times,/ Cloudstar thought hopefully, \and he’ll let me out. At least not in this tiny thing.\ But she had doubt. He wouldn’t let her go. He’d spent years looking for her, and finally got her. Why now would he let her go freely? “I’ll find a way out,” she growled to herself, “I will. I’m smart. I’m capable. I’ll find a way to get out. Or signal my Clan. Maybe they’ll stumble upon me.” Her doubt began to grow. They wouldn’t find her. She’d be stuck her until she died, she just knew. Unless. Darlingdove woke with a start. Her eyes were clear now. The cave was warm, but it wasn’t Hawkjaw’s cave. She wasn’t even on a nest. It was a small cave, not with different pathways to different rooms, like her home cave. No…this was different. Maybe Nightberry was tired and her eyes were blurry, too, and she couldn’t see. But she didn’t see any cat. No smells of anyone. “Hello?” she called in the darkness. Finally, a scent of Nightberry entered her nose. She felt calm now. Nightberry would explain. But then—the pain hit again. What was happening? Hadn’t Nightberry healed her frostbite? Or at least tried to help. She whined, and realized she couldn’t move her tail. What was going on? A black cat appeared. Nightberry. “Nightberry!” Darlingdove cried. “What’s going on? Why am I still hurting?” The molly didn’t utter a word. Darlingdove tried again. “Nightberry,” she said firmly, trying again to move her tail. “What is going on? Is my tail frostbitten or something? I can’t move it.” Finally, a sliver of a smile appeared on Nightberry’s hardened face. She sat down, gazing at Nightberry with pleasure. “My dear. Did you really think you could trust me? I’m not your sister, or even close. I’m not your friend. You’ve always been /such/ a fool, Darlingdove. What did you expect? For me to take you back to Hawkjaw? He doesn’t /like/ you, Darlingdove. Get it in your head.” The words struck the white she like fox’s claws. “What—? But..” she stumbled. “Why—but—my tail. My tail! Why can’t I move my tail.” She refused to look up at Nightberry anyway. She was a fool. Nightberry was correct. She wasn’t used to this. “Oh, your tail,” Nightberry laughed. “Your tail. Look behind you. See anything?” Darlingdove frantically looked behind her. She expected her white, almost no-furred tail behind her. But nothing was there. Nothing…just a stub. A stub. A stub! Realization hit her. “My tail!” she yowled. “What did you do to my tail!” Random words flew out of her mouth. “My tail—where did you put my tail?” Nightberry watched the she with clear amusement. “Your tail is gone. And it doesn’t grow back, you mouse-brained molly.” And with those words Nightberry dragged the helpless Darlingdove out to the snow. Far from the cave. “Help! Help!” she screeched. “/Help/!” What would she do without her tail? How could Nightberry be so cruel? How could this happen to her? Questions zoomed through her mind. She closed her eyes, hoping this was a nightmare. Several hours passed before Darlingdove, the again frostbitten white she-cat, fluttered her eyes open. She saw the endless snow, and the mountains ahead. And the stub, what was left of her tail. She whimpered, and turned her head the other way. Nightberry had left her. She was alone now. To die, probably. To die. What would have happened? What would have happened if she didn’t join Hawkjaw? If she didn’t travel in the snow after capturing that cursed leader? Her legs were cold and she could barely move them. She couldn’t walk, not now. She buried her muzzle into the snow, hoping for maybe some sort of warmth. But there was none. Only cold. Cold was her life. Cold. Cold. Cold. She repeated the words over and over in her head. Maybe it would keep other thoughts from invading. She was starving. Cold, starved, dehydrated, and alone. Alone was the worst of all. Again she closed her eyes, and drifted off.
