- Jun 9, 2022
- 405
- 100
- 28
He’d been foolish to brush pelts with Sootstar, to guide her back to her den and continue sleeping in the same nest. Weaselclaw does not consider these things foolish—he only considers his mate’s well-being, her comfort, and if by day he’s feeling a little worse for wear, well, so what? Leaf-fall is upon them now, and in WindClan, where the moorland hills are swept with considerably cooler air, Weaselclaw thinks nothing of the chills he fights one morning on a dawn patrol. His belly cramps, but when he thinks of the fieldmouse he’d attempted to nibble this morning, he has to grimace and force the memory of the spoiled-tasting meat out of his mind.
“I need to rest a moment,” he pants to his patrolmates, coming to a halt just at the base of the next hill. They aren’t too far from camp, and he wonders why he’s so exhausted already. Perhaps he’d needed to force the rest of the mouse down… but his stomach clenches again at the idea, and he snorts, sucking mucus up into the base of his skull as he does.
And then—then he thinks about Sootstar, the hoarse quality to her voice, and Moorpaw, the glob of phlegm flying from her hacking jaws. Weaselclaw’s breath suddenly feels as though it’s not forthcoming, that his lungs are squeezed. “I’m…” The tabby sounds puzzled, and he stares at the cats around him, all of whom must be thinking the same thing.
He cannot bring himself to say it.
“I need to rest a moment,” he pants to his patrolmates, coming to a halt just at the base of the next hill. They aren’t too far from camp, and he wonders why he’s so exhausted already. Perhaps he’d needed to force the rest of the mouse down… but his stomach clenches again at the idea, and he snorts, sucking mucus up into the base of his skull as he does.
And then—then he thinks about Sootstar, the hoarse quality to her voice, and Moorpaw, the glob of phlegm flying from her hacking jaws. Weaselclaw’s breath suddenly feels as though it’s not forthcoming, that his lungs are squeezed. “I’m…” The tabby sounds puzzled, and he stares at the cats around him, all of whom must be thinking the same thing.
He cannot bring himself to say it.
- @HOLLYPAW. apprentice tag, but not need to wait!
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weasel. weaselclaw
— he/him ; lead warrior of windclan
— heterosexual ; taken by Sootstar
— short-haired chocolate tabby with white and blue eyes
— “speech”, thoughts, attack
— penned by Marquette
— chibi by Oliver