private A cry from above [Weaselclaw]

[Badgermoon]

The sun hung low in the sky, long fingers of pinkish-gold seeping into the fading blue. Badgermoon bounded over the moor beneath such splendor, his speckled paws skimming lightly over the frosted grass, the cold air tearing at his lungs. There was joy and ferocity in his stride; his yellow eyes seemed almost to glow with an intense happiness. Sometimes he ran for the pure pleasure of running, but on this particular day he ran in pursuit of a rabbit, whose own flight was surely not as pleasurable. Up and down the grassy hills they tore, clouds of breath left behind as predator and prey devoured the ground beneath them. The race lasted for many long minutes, until at last with a few long, final leaps, the rabbit escaped its pursuer and disappeared down a tunnel. With this loss, after such a long pursuit - missing out on enough meat to fill several cats' bellies - Badgermoon's good temper snapped; he skidded to a stop and let out a low hiss, one that seemed to vibrate in his throat before fading. The broad-shouldered tom took a few deep breaths, sides heaving, trying both to calm himself and to catch his breath; the latter succeeded, but he had no luck with the former. Indeed, as the thrill of the chase began to fade it was replaced with an intensifying anger. I should've caught that. It shouldn't have gotten away.

He felt no shame at the loss - everyone missed a good catch, now and then - but still he couldn't escape a building sense of outrage. It shouldn't have gotten away. That was my rabbit. MINE! MINE! MY RABBIT! it was a small thing, really - they were not so desperate for prey that this loss would cause anyone to starve - but damn if it wasn't frustrating. And damn if he wasn't tired of this season already. Tired of the selfishness of other Clans, tired of the constant hostility, tired of sickness and hunger and ice crystals digging at his paw pads. Badgermoon unsheathed his claws without really thinking about it as he sat and stewed, kneading the ground underfoot and gradually turning it into a mash of dead grass, mud, and frost. Typically this soothed him, gave him an outlet for his excess energy and let him evade and quiet the darkest, fiercest whispers in his heart. Today, for whatever reason, it wasn't working; today it seemed that the dam was destined to break.

Badgermoon rose suddenly and let out a yowl that split the dusky air before twisting around and beginning to tear into the tunnel. There was no sense to this, of course - the ground was mostly solid and the rabbit was long gone - but he did it anyway, throwing his entire body into the effort, screaming unintelligibly all the while. First he tore up snow and grass, then soil and small pebbles, throwing them wildly behind him, no longer seeing, no longer feeling, only acting, clawing, ripping, digging, only embodying his fury, the senseless anger. He saw SkyClan and RiverClan and Orangeblossom and Blazestar and catmint and Dandelionwish, saw the disappearing tail of the rabbit and the slim, hungry bodies of his Clanmates, felt the sharp cold and the harsh wind, felt a stinging pain in his paws, felt his energy ebbing. Slowly, his movements began to slow; as a fire consumes its fuel and begins to flicker out, so too did the deputy gradually begin to fade. His churning paws turned sluggish, and he realized that he had torn out at least a few claws; his paws were numb and swollen, and his whole lower half was covered with dirt and flecks of blood. There was silence but for his heaving breaths as his infuriated yowls ceased.

@WEASELCLAW​

 

[WEASELCLAW]

He knows the fury of stolen opportunity, and it had cost him dearly -- the love and loyalty of his mate, his leader's trust, his Clan's faith in his abilities. Weaselclaw watches Badgermoon's rabbit disappear with a piteous expression. The black and white deputy's rage is hot, quick, his claws raking at the tunnel as he exacts every ounce of anger onto the earth.

Weaselclaw only watches. He thinks about the RiverClan lead warrior taunting him as his apprentice bites into his kill. The rabbit that would have fed Echolight, still pregnant at the time. The rabbit that would have sustained the kits toddling in the nursery, the cats sick with greencough, the weak and the feeble.

He thinks about the satisfying give of Smokethroat's eyelid beneath his claws, the shorn left ear he wears now, the infuriating, cowardly yowls of his Clanmates judging him for doing his damndest to save them all.

Weaselclaw finally pads closer to Badgermoon as his ripping motions slow. The black and white warrior has bloody claws, a dull expression replacing the fury. "At least yours was eaten by a tunnel, instead of RiverClan," he meows matter-of-factly. His torn ear twitches. "I've not seen you show so much... anger before." He eyes his deputy carefully.​

[ PENNED BY MARQUETTE ]​

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[Badgermoon]

Badgermoon had thought he was alone, though perhaps it was hardly a surprise he had not been aware of his one-man audience considering he had been in the throes of his temper tantrum. It was undignified, though, and he felt himself flush beneath his bicolor fur as Weaselclaw approached. "Perhaps it's for the best." he said with a smile that was half-apologetic, half-guarded. He could not determine the Lead Warrior's attitude towards his outburst, and while Badgermoon did not feel the need to vie for his approval, he knew that no one had Sootstar's ear as much as her mate. He did not want to give the wrong impression; she was so cold and calculated, after all. Surely she wouldn't want a deputy who couldn't control his temper. "It comes upon me sometimes." admitted the black-and-white tom, lifting one of his battered paws with a little wince. They stung quite badly, he now realized, but he began to groom the dirt and blood from it, trying not to show his discomfort. "Not one of my better qualities, I don't think." ​