* ✰. — midnights become my afternoons ❞ / o, harrier encounter

[SLATESNARL]

There the large black tom stood, still as a statue atop Outlook Rock, the breeze coasting over the moors and ruffling his fur. Not quite a king surveying his new domain, but it was close enough. Here, Slate was a warrior — a clan cat. While he had little idea on what a clan cat even was, having overheard only rumors and whispers on the wind, Slate felt that he had little other options. Dodging coyote attacks left and right was no way to live, and neither was roaming aimlessly. No longer was Slate a street rat, a rogue scavenging for his next meal, a cat with no purpose.

The moorlands were serene... if not a bit boring compared to the bustling city. It was a change of scenery, at least. Amber eyes swept over the land below and it was not long before he set his sights on a fairly sizable creature... a bird. Slate couldn't tell what species it was; he was well-versed with the likes of crows and finches and pigeons and even the occasional owl, but he did not recognize this type of avian. It sure looked like it could yield quite a haul of meat, though.

Slate, oblivious to the concept of large and dangerous predatory birds, did not realize the trouble he was getting himself into until he attempted to jump onto the harrier's back and sink his teeth into it. The former rogue was used to birds going limp under his bite but, to his surprise, the bird squawked angrily and flapped its large wings. "Shit—" Slate slid off gracelessly and thudded onto the ground, to which he immediately scrambled to his paws and faced the avian, who had spread its wings in a defensive stance.

With obsidian fur bristling, claws digging into the earth, and irises narrowed into slits, Slate spat, "C'mon, stupid bird! That all you can do?" If there was anything he never imagined he'd do, it would be squaring off with a giant bird. How much of a fight could it possibly put up?

// feel free to have your character attack it, powerplay the harrier, etc!​

 

[Nathanos]

HELLO, MY NAME IS MR FEAR​

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On the moor, Nathanos is exploring the tall grass as cold wind tugs at his dusty hued fur. His nose twitches as he catches the scent of a hare, but it's what he sees that is far more interesting. A shadow atop Outlook rock, the jutting structure of stone that was akin to WindClan's very own throne in the sky. He recognizes Slate easily enough, but the brute has no idea what manner of bird he was facing off with. It was large, a wingspan longer than even Nathanos was, and it looked entirely unhappy with the dark feline trying to square up with it. The chocolate tabby is as wary as he is curious, but he makes his way toward the jutting rock regardless, quick strides sending him forth with haste.

Scurrying as quietly and as quickly as he could toward the scene, Nathanos angles himself in such a way that he is behind the raptor when he finally makes his swift arrival. For a moment, that one hellish eye locks with Slate as the tall, brown hued tom assesses the situation. The harrier still hadn't noticed his arrival, and while both cats seemed equally unsure of the beast, it seemed edible enough so long as neither got clipped by those talons. So, baring his teeth, Nathanos makes his leap, pouncing into the back of the huge bird. It reacts with immediate fury, trying to twist in his grasp to hook him with it's beak, but the rogue turned warrior manages to pin one of the wings to the rock, that snapping maw just inches from his ankles as the bird writhes and screeches beneath him. With any luck, Slate would seize the newfound advantage before Nathanos was badly wounded.​