“ third wave “ pumm srp

Instructions

[ MAJOR CW FOR MENTIONS OF DEATH AND OF DROWNING ] when he’d heard the news, he had gone on with his life. it’s what pa would have wanted. but now he wanted nothing more than to see his father again- alive and well. the past few weeks had been okay- a bit… blurry, but pumpkingrove had heard that was to be expected. someone had told him that grief came in waves. the first wave had been when he’d first heard it. quail- his brother, his friend, his childhood buddy- had told him, but it seemed so long ago now, although it had only actually been a couple weeks. pumm couldn’t bear to look to his siblings with this feeling. whatever it was, it was gut-wrenching. he felt as though his throat had closed up, and his paws shook like an earthquake trembled beneath him. he wanted to center himself, to bring himself back. he felt the tug of his bracelets against his pelt. there it was, on one of his hind paws. the bracelet he and quail had made. it was falling apart, but he couldn’t imagine ever remaking it. to him, it felt like the bond he had with his adoptive brother. his gaze shifted to his other paw, which held another. he exhaled, finally able to choke out a breath. fireball had made that with him. even the thought of fee made his heart flutter. oh, how horrible a partner pumm was- he hated the idea of burdening firefly with this- this terrible feeling. he wanted nothing more than to run to them, bury his face in their fur and tell them about his denial, his grief, his hatred for his own feelings- and how terrible a nephew he was, as well. he had broken the news to roseshine about falconcry’s… about falconcry. pumm had never seen her so grief-stricken. he hated it, he wished he could make the guilt of having made her feel this way simply disappear. had that been the second wave of grief? and his eyes landed on his forepaw. no. he didn’t want to look at the other bracelet. it’d been given to him by Pa. it held the feathery bits of a robin’s wing, and blossoms matching his sisters’ namesakes. he choked up a sob. it was an ugly noise to him- vulgar and embarrassing. his eyes burned with a few dozen tears that he should have cried earlier. this time, he let them fall. he missed his father more than he could describe to anyone. it felt as though he’d been drowning, knocked down by powerful, lurching tides, one right after another. he wondered whether the feeling ever actually went away, or if he’d be a weeping kit forever. but for now, it felt good to cry. he knew how to swim. pumpkingrove couldn’t help but wonder if his family did, as well