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Just a puppet on a lonely string
Oh, who would ever want to be king?[/fancypost]
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[i]prompt: speed
The male was draped over a tree branch, looking down on the little town that was ColouredClan's camp. It was beautiful, really, and he eventually found himself staring at the spot where his house once stood. The house was now in the process of being rebuilt--it was going extremely slowly--so it wasn't just an empty space, but it was better than the pile of rubble it used to be. The days had gone by so quickly since the tornado; he almost missed the times when the clan had to stay together in those tough times. Now they were more spread out again, and he wasn't getting things done anymore. Back before the tornado, he'd been getting things done in rapid fire succession, but now he was slowing down, trying to defy time. But time was not to be defied--it continued at the same pace no matter how hard one wished for it to stop, to slow down, to wait.
Time waited for no one. Time was impatient, always wanting to get done what it wanted done, on its own time. It was cold and unforgiving, aging the young and making hard times seem to drag on. But time was also generous, allowing one to slow down at times and survey the world around them if they tried hard enough. Like with Barnpaw; the time the obsidian male spent with the black and white male seemed to go so slowly, like the gentle trickling of a stream compared to the relentless rush of a river. Barnpaw was one of the Bodyguard's most cherished memories, though that was all Barnpaw was now--a memory. A memory, something in the past, something to be forgotten in the good times and looked back upon in the bad times.
But Tobio promised that he'd never forget Barnpaw, no matter how long time dragged on. Dropping down from the branch, he let out a short puff of air, already lost in thought again. "Come on, Kasai. Let's go find somebody to talk to," he murmured to his crow, navy eyes flicking back to the avian perched on his shoulder for a second. Soon Kasai's wing should be healed, and it would be time to let the crow fly away, let him live his life without the jet-black feline who had, against his own wishes, grown attached tot he bird.
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