Random Short Stories

Size Of The Heart [🦋]

In the rugged depths of Ice-Winded Hollow, a Clan known as the Abyssal Clade thrived in the shadows of towering trees and ancient cliffs.

The cats of the Abyssal Clade were fierce and formidable, their size and strength the very embodiment of their values. Big warriors commanded respect, and positions of leadership were held by those whose stature matched the merciless standards of the Clan.

Among them was Joltthrash, a muscular and powerful tom with a pelt of dusky amber whose size made him one of the most respected warriors in the Clan.

Joltthrash was the embodiment of the Clade ideal—a towering figure with sharp claws and a fierce gaze. His prowess in battle was unparalleled; he could fell foes twice his size with the swing of a paw.

Yet, beneath this impressive exterior lay a heart that quietly beat to a different rhythm.

Unlike others, Joltthrash did not relish in the power over the smaller cats. He carried a heavy heart filled with longing, and it was not for the accolades of his Clade but for Littlesplint, a small-sized tom whose striking emerald eyes sparkled like dew in the morning sun.

Littlesplint was graceful and kind, known for his quick thinking and wit rather than brute strength. Yet, in the eyes of the Abyssal Clade, his small stature made him a target for bullying, a true underdog struggling for acceptance.

The Abyssal Clade believed in the law of life: the strong survive, and the weak exist only to be pushed around. Littlesplint had often found himself at the mercy of larger cats, their disdainful taunts echoing in the hollow air.

Joltthrash had seen the torment; he had witnessed the way his larger Clade members circled like wolves around Littlesplint and many of the other smaller-sized Clade cats, their teeth sharp and their words even sharper.

Every day was a battle for them, not just against the odds, but also against the very Clade they had no choice but to call home.

To most, Joltthrash was the epitome of strength, his reputation forged in battles fought and won. They would expect him to follow in his Clade's steps, follow in their disdain for the smaller-sized and weaker.

But despite his might, there was a tenderness within him that only grew every time he saw Littlesplint smile or heard his laughter echo through the trees. It filled him with warmth and a heartache he couldn't quite quantify.

As growing attraction bloomed, so did the conflict within Joltthrash. Embracing the delicate tom in the world they lived in meant defying the very nature of the Abyssal Clade and risking everything that defined him.

The bond that was forging between them in secret felt like a forbidden dream. He was told to protect his kind, to instill fear, but how could he do that when his heart belonged to someone often seen as weak?

One evening as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting shadows that danced among the leaves, the Clade returned from a training session.

A group of larger toms—the Abyssal Clade's elite—barked laughter, circling Littlesplint who had accidentally stumbled into their path. "Looks like we've caught a little mouse," one of them, Thundersnap, sneered, voice thick with contempt.

Joltthrash watched from a nearby rise, the blood pounding in his ears. Anger coiled within him like a spring ready to burst. He knew he had to intervene, but as he felt the weight of his own size, he hesitated.

What would the Clade think? Would they all see him as weak for defending someone deemed to be inferior? The whispers of doubt swarmed like wasps.

Joltthrash stood at the back, an uneasy lump in his throat as his gaze flickered from the surrounding warriors to Littlesplint, who was cornered by Grizzlenose, a sheer behemoth known for his cruel pranks and iron paw.

He sneered, flanked by his loyal henchmen, their laughter echoing like thunder. "Look at Littlesplint! Can't even stand up to a breeze!" One of his henchmen, Brutarock, mocked, shoving Littlesplint slightly, causing him to stagger back.

The crowd erupted in jeers, and Joltthrash's heart raced with fury. He wanted nothing more than to leap in and defend Littlesplint, but the weight of the Clade's expectations held him back.

"Look at the little mouse!" Grizzlenose bellowed mockingly, shoving Littlesplint to the ground with his hefty paw. A chorus of laughter erupted, the cruelty fueling Grizzlenose's boldness. "Still trying to catch flies, eh?"

The laughter widened the gaping maw of Joltthrash's towering dread. He wanted to rush to Littlesplint's side, to tower over Grizzlenose and declare him unworthy of his position in the Abyssal Clade, but something rooted him to the spot.

Joltthrash just felt helpless, his heart pounding like the beat of a war drum inside his chest.

Yet, what was to unfold was far beyond his worst fears. Littlesplint, though small, was not without his spirit.

As Grizzlenose loomed over him, another nudge sent him sliding further into the dirt. Instead of cowering or whimpered responses that came to be expected, something shifted within Littlesplint. A ferocity bloomed as he sprang up, his agile body gliding across the grass.

The world slowed for Joltthrash as he witnessed the impossible unfold before his very eyes. Littlesplint darted beneath Grizzlenose's paws, swirling up to the warrior's exposed flank in one graceful movement.

Then, with a flicker of precision that sent shivers down Joltthrash's spine, Littlesplint leapt, body springing into the air and sailing through in one fluid movement before he landed on Grizzlenose's back.

Shock froze Joltthrash in place as he watched Littlesplint display an astounding mix of agility and strength. Grizzlenose and his posse hadn't even realized what was happening until it was too far, too late.

Littlesplint's claws met the hardened skin and with a defining thrust, the larger tom let out a garbled roar as a sudden sharp agony from the smaller tom's fishhook-like claws ripped through him.

In a heartbeat, the crowd's laughter twisted into gasps, and Joltthrash glimpsed the horror etching itself across the faces of the onlookers. Littlesplint, still connected to the large warrior, twisted hard with incredible speed, and in one final movement, snapped Grizzlenose's neck with a sickening crack.

The crack echoed across the entire clearing like a thunderclap, and the smaller tom sprang away, panting as he turned to face the Clade that had judged him all his life for being small—a feral glint in his eyes.

Then, the massive Abyssal Clade warrior collapsed.

Gasps erupted from the crowd, and stunned warriors stumbled back as if shocked by lightning. Joltthrash felt every ounce of his breath catch in his throat, the sight of his friend standing so boldly over the lifeless form of Grizzlenose igniting a flood of shock.

Silence enveloped the clearing. The cruelty and bravado of bullying melted into the air, replaced by a heavy stillness charged with disbelief.

Joltthrash's heart raced wildly, pride mingling with horror as he set eyes on Littlesplint—who now stood over Grizzlenose, chest heaving and eyes glowing with a newfound brilliance.

The look in the smaller tom's eyes was something he couldn't quite place his paw on; a brewing triumph bordering on sheer insanity. The sparkle in his eyes had faded, now replaced with the dim glow of an unnerving rage.

His head cocked slightly and Littlesplint hissed in a strange, cooing snarl, "What's the matter? Scared of a little Clade cat like me?"

Then, he threw his head back and released an eerie, earsplitting cackle before whirling around and bolting off into the darkness of the woods ahead, his haunting laugh echoing around the clearing.

Joltthrash never saw him again after that day. Though the Abyssal Clade's attitude towards smaller cats significantly improved after that incident, Joltthrash still felt a sense of guilt.

And sometimes at night, he would hear the piercing cackles of his lost love resonate through the forest, haunting him till he took his last breath.