Dolore

Starling was pacing.  He had never really paced before but today he was. His paws wove through the grass endlessly, back and forth back and forth infront of his den. It was like he was lost, his eyes were wide and sightless, his ears tugged back as he moved. He didnt know what to do anymore, that single moment of pure doubt knocked him off his path and he didnt know where he was going anymore. His heart was heavy in his chest as he moved, a lump lodged in his throat as he moved, as if he were searching for a way back. The air was thick with the scent of his herbs but for once it didnt bring him peace. He was restless…

With a slight growl, a rare sound for the young destruction, he'd stomp his foot against the ground. Blue eyes soft, yet wild, tears beading against his ducts. He was frustrated, upset and for once he didnt know what to do. Oh, he was a child. He was awful, worse than Lillianna and Sparrow. He was a disgrace to his family, to his father. A whimper would worm up through his throat before he dropped his head, pausing in his pace for a moment. He didnt deserve his rank, didnt deserve any rank…. The strength in his legs slowly gave out, his muscles tingling like they were asleep before his knees suddenly gave way. And he fell, crumpled in a mess infront of his den. Aunt harmony…his father…they were right. He was a child. Eyes would stare blankly as he looked at a blade of grass, his brows furrowed and his nose hidden beneath his paw. Things hurt that had never hurt before, and the only thing he thought of in that moment was…that he missed Cathaoir.

"Burn Baby Burn" || "Bruciare Bambino Bruciare"