open up—hummingbirdtrill srp

Instructions

..open.. She was a warrior. The newly named Hummingbirdtrill padded across the desert, her fur fluffed up from the sudden heat. Even though it was night, the sand below her was incredibly warm compared to the stone floor of the cavern, and her first couple steps were accompanied with tiny winces. She had grown up in WindClan and lived in it most of her life, though, so she was used to sneaking out right at dusk, risking slightly hot paw pads for the sense of adventure. As she lifted her head to the disappearing streaks of purple, she realized this must have been the same night sky walked under, the same path carefully taken, as the night that her father found her. Twelve moons ago, when she was a tiny kitten in a flower field, somehow she had been noticed, and saved. And now twelve moons had passed. A different cat— one who was more contemplative, more reflective, maybe even kinder— might have mulled over the events and changes of her life. But she wasn’t a different cat. She used to be Hummingbirdpaw, with all the flaws she tried to change and all the obsessions she tried to hide. And now Hummingbirdtrill was becoming a unique cat, more and more every day… even if that new cat wasn’t exactly her. That didn’t matter, right? As long as she pleased the cats around her, her interests didn’t mean much, did they? As a warrior, she could finally step completely into the role she had created for herself. She could stop with the flare-ups any time someone startled her, get rid of the nicknames she came up with for every single cat she met. She could be so much better, so much /more/. Then why did she feel a little bit like she was losing part of herself? Hummingbirdtrill dug her fangs into the fur under her mouth, a worried habit that had only become more prominent the larger her teeth grew. This wasn’t something she wanted to be thinking about the night after her ceremony. Tonight should be happy and celebratory, not /this/… suddenly, something in the distance caught her eye, and she started running towards it. This, she was sure, was a way she could prove to herself that everything was perfectly normal. The cluster of birds didn’t notice her as she crept closer and closer— until they did. One bird gave a warning cry and they all turned to face her. /Mouse dung./ With a leap that took her over a couple of the birds, she snagged a wing of the largest of the flock, hoping to catch at least one of them. Their screams turned to rage, and too late, Hummingbirdtrill realized she was surrounded. The birds scratched at her ceaselessly, even as she turned tail and ran back toward camp. What had she done? Why had she tried this? Scraggly trees came and went, starlight sparkling on their leaves, but she couldn’t let herself stop to admire what she used to say she loved most about her Clan. She was racing away from the birds, away from her decision, away from her thoughts. WindClan’s tunnel came into view, and she bolted down it, not stopping until her searching eyes fixed on the light from the cavern. She slowed, trying to slink around the edges of the cave toward the medicine den. Her pelt was hurting and bleeding— she could feel the thick red liquid welling up inside some of her stinging cuts, though fortunately not in all of them. If anyone saw her like this, if anyone asked… how fast would news get out around camp that the new warrior had tried to confront an entire flock of birds, failed to catch a single one, and hurt herself in the process? The medicine den’s crack was yawning in front of her. “H-hi. Could I have some herbs?” ..up.. She woke to the smell of musty leaves. Her nest was curled around her, with the blanket from Beebee and the petals that had fallen from her flowers. But it was strangely wet, in places that corresponded to the pain she realized she felt all over. Did she get hurt somehow? Then she remembered, and buried her head in her paws, embarassed. Hummingbirdtrill would have to work so hard, do so much to make up for this. She had only needed a couple of herbs, still wrapped around and stuck to her cuts, but this wasn’t something she could just let go of. Her cuts would heal within a couple of days, but her pride would be hurt for a very long time. This just added to her suspicions that she wasn’t worthy of being part of WindClan. She wasn’t born there, she didn’t talk to other cats too much or too well— not even her own family! Hummingbirdtrill had to prove herself, somehow. She would talk to eveyone, become a someone, so that her story would come out of her own mouth. And then maybe everyone would like her. This would be the way to show that she belonged.