Recent content by HOWLPAW

Howlpaw emerges like a stormcloud slipping from the treeline, fur still tufted unevenly from the last patrol, shoulders tense and gait sharp with purpose. He doesn't slink or shuffle like some scolded kit skulking back to camp—he moves like he owns the dirt under his paws, like every stick and...

Howlpaw doesn't look up at first. The heat is already gnawing at his nerves, sticky and close like a second pelt clinging to his skin. The air is thick with it, heavy and sour, pressing down on him until every breath feels like a chore. His tail flicks once, twice, harder each time. His ears...

Howlpaw stands rigid in the center of the leader's den, tail flicking restlessly behind him as Flamestar's gaze locks onto him with a sharpness that cuts deeper than any claw. He can't meet her eyes—not because of guilt, not because he's afraid of the punishment, but because he feels like...

Howlpaw listens. It doesn't mean to, doesn't want to, but it does. Thrashpaw's words slither under its skin, curling in the hollows of its ribs, pressing sharp against the places Howlpaw has tried to keep empty. It doesn't shift, doesn't lift its head, but its ears are angled toward her...

Howlpaw flinches at the first sharp cry, ears flattening against its head, and then immediately bristles, hackles lifting as if preparing for a fight. What? What is Daffodilkit yelling about? What did it do? Its jaws are still full, mid-bite, and for a moment, it doesn't move. It just stares at...

Howlpaw doesn't watch them at first. He keeps his head low, his chin still pressed against the dirt, as if ignoring Bigkit might make them disappear entirely. But they don't disappear. Instead, they settle in, quiet and unobtrusive, just as they promised. He flicks his tail once, watching from...

Howlpaw doesn't like the way Thrashpaw lingers at its side. The weight of her presence gnaws at its nerves, needles pressing under its skin. She has been doing this more often lately—hovering, watching, dripping with something that tastes like guilt. It doesn't want it. Doesn't need it. If she...

Howlpaw doesn't sit. It doesn't crouch, doesn't make itself small like Bayingpaw does. It stands where it entered, shoulders squared, breath slow and measured through its nose. The fur at its nape is still bristling, thick and unyielding even as the sluggish trickle of blood from its shoulder...

Howlpaw is too tired to lash out. Too tired to meet Thrashpaw's hesitant approach with bared teeth and bristling fur, though the instinct is there, curled tight in its gut like a waiting snake. A bear trap, Thrashpaw had thought. Quick to snap shut, all jagged edges and unthinking, reactionary...

Howlpaw does not answer right away. Its breath is too loud in its own ears, rattling against its ribs, clawing its way up its throat as if it could tear itself free. It's curled in on itself, pressed low to the ground, body coiled tight like something that expects to be struck. The tremors in...

Howlpaw's whole body is shaking. Every muscle locks tight, curled in on itself, every breath dragged through gritted teeth, harsh and broken. It can still feel the blood, Coltstorm's blood, clinging to its claws, drying in the fur between its toes. The scent of copper clogs its nose, thick and...

cw: panic attack, self inflicted injury (unintentional) Howlpaw doesn't know where it's going. It doesn't care where it's going. Its paws pound against the earth, scattering leaves and snapping twigs, its breath sawing in and out of its chest like it's dragging itself through brambles...

Howlpaw stands rigid, breath coming hard and fast between bared teeth, the sharp taste of iron thick on its tongue. Its chest heaves. Its claws flex against the dirt, against the remnants of Coltstorm's fur still caught between them. The world feels like it's cracking apart at the seams, the...

Howlpaw is not done. There is blood in its mouth, hot and coppery, the scent of it thick in its nostrils. Its claws are still buried in flesh, sticky warmth seeping between its pads, and it is alive, more than it has ever been, every nerve alight with raw, unfiltered feeling. Its muscles coil...

Howlpaw doesn't register the words. Not at first. It registers the impact—hard, jarring, deliberate. It stumbles half a step to the side, claws scraping instinctively against the dirt, fur bristling before its brain catches up. Then, the words slot into place, digging in like burrs beneath its...