Authors Note: A simple Mothwing and Hawkfrost sibling drabble because like bruh. These two tear my heartstrings and I want to read some realistic but positive things about them rather than just sadness.
"Can't she open her eyes yet?"
She hears the angry, tiny squeak of the fluffy brother; her littermate, the other tom in the litter that always kicked and grabbed at her ears when she attempted to feed from her mother. His voice isn't as soothing, not as much as the smaller brother or her mother, but she's still drawn to it, wishing that she could gather up the courage to open her eyes and finally see his face.
"Be patient," her mother soothes; her body rumbles as she speaks, and Moth squeaks, nuzzling her face further into her body. "Your sister will open her eyes in her own time, just like you did."
She hears the fluffy brother grumble something, before his paws touch her back and prod at her painfully. He's trying to make some kind of growling voice in his throat, she understands, but it doesn't sound too fearsome.
"Leave her be," her mother meows, and the fluffy brother stops.
Moth's eyes begin itching, twitching as the desire to finally open them and see the world around her becomes insufferable. She wants to see her brother, to finally be able to get on her own paws and playfight with him, just so she could show him how strong she could be.
And when she does, there's light and colors and shapes that she could've never imagined behind closed eyes. She blinks rapidly, squeaking and pushing herself closer to her mother when it all becomes a bit too much for her.
And then, finally, she sees her brother.
He's a bit bigger than she imagined – she only had a squeaky voice to go by – with dark brown tabby fur, a white chest, and large blue eyes. He grins as he sees her, a toothy grin, crawling toward her and laughing.
"Finally, pipsqueak," he growls playfully, nipping at her ears. "I opened my eyes right when I could, like Tadpole, but you sat there and waited forever."
She tilts her head at him, taking in his playful face and toothy smile. He's her brother, her littermate, and when she holds her golden paws up and places them over his, she can see the similar shape of them and the similar patterns of their tabby fur.
"I'm Hawk," he tells her, slowly. "Say it: Hawk."
"Ha...Ha..." she tries, finding that words are more difficult to grasp than she could've imagined.
"It's not that hard!" he crows, shaking his head. "Hawk!"
"Hawk!" she finally squeaks back, purring and batting his paws. "Hawk! Hawk!" She crawls toward him, pushing herself against him and kneading her paws against his side like he's done multiple times. "Hawk!"
It's the first word she learns to say.
