10-04-2019, 11:21 PM
[align=center][div style="width: 51%; text-align: justify; font-size: 10pt; letter-spacing: -1px; font-family: georgia;"]Selby was not a stranger to feelings of inadequacy either. While he did not feel them often anymore (he had gained a significant amount of confidence in his abilities), the time just after Arrow’s death had been plagued with them. Sometimes even now his thoughts drifted back to the deceased feline, and he wondered if things might have gone differently if he was more prepared. Still, there was no use dwelling on these thoughts. He had larger, more present fish to fry.
Moth had become a significant figure in his life since she had been promoted. Selby had been tasked to teach her medicine, but they became fast friends. She had been there when they found Pastel, and she had tried to keep him calm. She had listened to his tired ramblings and encouraged him to take a break after she recovered from her accident. She had become very important to him in such a short period of time that he was uncertain what his life would look like if she was no longer part of it.
When Wormwood’s harsh voice clipped through the quiet coolness of the forest, Selby was on his feet immediately. He rushed through the woods, paws barely skimming the ground as he flew towards the apparent danger. "I’m here," he said breathlessly as he approached. And though the appearance of the feline in Wormwood’s arms was not familiar, his concern for her was. "Holy... is— is that Moth?" Without waiting for a response, he wordlessly encouraged the lion to back up the slightest bit before studying his unconscious friend.
Selby reached out tentatively with a paw to feel her pulse, finding it a tad weak but otherwise unconcerning. It made sense, considering that she was passed out. He sniffed at her shoulder, finding no sign of any worsening condition, and the situation was similar with her fading scratches. He felt around the base of her skull, looking for an indication of trauma but finding none. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Wormwood. "I can’t find anything wrong with her, or at least not anything new. I think we just have to wait for her to wake up."
Moth had become a significant figure in his life since she had been promoted. Selby had been tasked to teach her medicine, but they became fast friends. She had been there when they found Pastel, and she had tried to keep him calm. She had listened to his tired ramblings and encouraged him to take a break after she recovered from her accident. She had become very important to him in such a short period of time that he was uncertain what his life would look like if she was no longer part of it.
When Wormwood’s harsh voice clipped through the quiet coolness of the forest, Selby was on his feet immediately. He rushed through the woods, paws barely skimming the ground as he flew towards the apparent danger. "I’m here," he said breathlessly as he approached. And though the appearance of the feline in Wormwood’s arms was not familiar, his concern for her was. "Holy... is— is that Moth?" Without waiting for a response, he wordlessly encouraged the lion to back up the slightest bit before studying his unconscious friend.
Selby reached out tentatively with a paw to feel her pulse, finding it a tad weak but otherwise unconcerning. It made sense, considering that she was passed out. He sniffed at her shoulder, finding no sign of any worsening condition, and the situation was similar with her fading scratches. He felt around the base of her skull, looking for an indication of trauma but finding none. Taking a deep breath, he turned to face Wormwood. "I can’t find anything wrong with her, or at least not anything new. I think we just have to wait for her to wake up."