Gingerflame gritted her teeth, sitting in the middle of the Nursery with the bundle of herbs dropped by her paws. She glared at the floor, rage swelling up inside and causing her to lose her breath. In an effort to gain back control, she forced herself to breath slower and more deeply. With her chest heaving up and down, she remained there, motionless. The she-cat knew she couldn’t get herself worked up, stress would only cause a disturbance to her unborn kits, and by Starclan, she certainly didn’t want to kit now. Not with the whitecough scare and while she wasn’t allowed to be near Ravencoat.
Certainly not. But yet, she couldn’t stay here. Not here, not now. She felt trapped, both physically and mentally enclosed in this den. That was the one thing she hated the most about being pregnant; imprisonment. Well, the sense of it, no less. She hated the rules, she hated having to depend on everyone around her and she hated having to stay here every single sunrise. All she wanted to do was speak to her mate, and should wasn’t even allowed to do that. Oh no, she had to stay here, trapped among begging and moss. Gingerflame wanted to go. Slip through camp and just run through the forest like a kit tasting it’s first mouse-step of freedom. That’s what she wanted.
Freedom.“Are you alright there?” A small yet calming voice meowed from the back of the den. Gingerflame looked up, her glare disappearing when she spotted Mosscoat, now awake, with her three kits around her. She was curled up, her tail wrapped around her kits to keep them warm.
“You’re not kitting, are you?”“No, I’m fine.” Gingerflame picked up the herbs and waddled towards the Queen.
“Mallownose gave us these to take since he’ll be out for awhile. The borage leaves are for you, the others are for Leopardflower.” The she-cat looked down at the pile of leaves that Gingerflame had put down for her.
“Make sure Leopardflower gets them, alright?”“There’s a lot of herbs here, Gingerflame, have you had yours?” She questioned, looking back up at the ginger cat.
“Yes, of course.” Gingerflame lied, switching her gaze over to Leopardflower. She didn’t feel like taking the herbs, all she wanted to do was leave, now.
“Okay... then.” Mosscoat twitched her ears and peered over to Leopardflower.
“Leopardflower, we have herbs here for you.” She called, as she separated the different leaves. As she did so, Gingerflame made her way towards the entrance of the Nursery, exiting cautiously. Once she was half-way out, she spotted Hawkstar, who was quite a few fox-lengths in front of her. He seemed to be talking to Honeypaw and Duskclaw and was, thankfully, facing the other way. Wasting no time, she slipped out of the Nursery completely and waddled carefully, but quickly, to the entrance of the camp. She tried not to cause attention to herself but it was difficult, her massive stomach made it hard for her to even walk properly.
Before she knew it, she was outside, the fresh air whipping through her fur. She was surprised she wasn’t caught, but since it was still early, she figured most of the cats would be out at the moment, either patrolling or training.
Gingerflame didn’t waste a heartbeat as she darted into the depths of the forest as fast as her legs could carry her... and her stomach. She was slow, undoubtedly, but the feeling of freedom was clear and made her feel like a naughty kit escaping her mother’s paw. She loved it, and she missed it. It was strange how a moon trapped inside the camp could get her nipping for the outside world.
She carried on, slowing down only when her paws needed a rest. Gingerflame soon came towards a large bramble bush which she scuffled through loudly, scratching her hind legs in the process. But she was determined, breaking through it and appearing on the other side. Only then did she realised she was not alone. In front of her was Frostbite, a Thunderclan warrior, sitting by himself.
Mousedung! She knew her freedom wouldn’t last long. She stared at the tom, frowning, trying hard to back up into the bramble once more. But her attempt to escape only made it worse as the bramble tangled around her legs and thorns snagged at her skin. Her long fur getting caught and knotting around it.
She was trapped. Again... How ironic.