Myst sits like an old oak tree,
steady,
certain,
already knowing
how this story ends.
HoneySpark arrives
with kitten courage—
all oversized dreams,
reckless paws,
and absolutely
no survival instincts.
She pounces.
She wiggles.
She chirps a battle cry
that weighs less
than a handful of feathers.
Myst sighs
the sigh of every older sibling,
every exhausted auntie,
every soul
who has ever muttered,
“I warned you.”
Bonk.
Suddenly,
the mighty hunter
is upside down,
all four paws bicycling the air
as though speed alone
might rewrite history.
Myst pins her
with the patience
of someone teaching,
not punishing.
“Enough?”
HoneySpark blinks.
Thinks about it.
Waits exactly three heartbeats…
and launches herself
right back into the fight.
Because kittens
do not collect wisdom.
They collect experiences.
And somewhere
between the bunny kicks,
the dramatic flops,
the blurry photographs,
and the thousand tiny bonks,
a friendship is being written
in paw prints,
play fights,
and the quiet promise
that tomorrow,
they’ll do it all over again.
Leave a comment