- Sep 19, 2024
- 10
- 2
- 3
He was lucky he made the trek to the far edge of the territory, standing above what he now knew as a flood. It raged from where he settled high on the Riverclan side of the gorge, past the Beach Copse. Jackal's ears had twitched when the roar of the water began, something that settled slowly at first- but the rush of water was unmistakeable from far behind him. Jackal's vision turned then, leaping upon a pile of rocks not far from the gorge itself and stared over the water back towards Riverclan's camp.
At first, there was the cruel twist in his stomach of guilt. Of not being there to save his children, of not being there to help them. Jackal swears he isn't a bad tom, you know- father to a few, keeping a watchful eye on some of them. Clay was one that escaped, the bundle of fur that Hazel had tossed to the wind long before he had an option on taking her over. He remembers coming home in a fit of rage, finding his only daughter (at that time,) gone, tossed to rogues. He left Hazel at that point, the food in his mouth only for him and the bitter taste in his soul becoming cold like ice.
His other two children, then- a soft kittypet with all allure had roped him in before long. Jackal had been fended off by the owners before long, but he had watched, faithful, aware, as the two were raised in the mouth of a warm home. Then they were abandoned, and Riverclan swept them up before Jackal could get to them. That had made him angry, hateful. So he trailed those two, watching how they were integrated and- from beyond the border, he watched an ever-familiar bundle of orange fur, dappled chocolate, make patrols and rounds. His heart hurt seeing that.
Clay had grown up, stronger then him, and with a gaze as cold as ice. Scars circled her, marked her as a warrior, one deserving of her station now. Some of his heart had begin to thaw then, but... no, nothing had changed. Riverclan had his offspring. He wanted them back. Jackal had begun to plan then, knowing where all three were- he was going to make them come with him. Freedom was something paramount to that of a clan's safety. This he knew.
Regardless of this, seeing the flood tear across the territory had him holding his breath, wishing upon his children's safety. He knew better then to falsify hope. He had made himself at home in the least-scouted corner of the territory after that, sharply aware, doing what he could to get close without letting his scent be known, traversing deep at night. He caught flashes of her then, Clay's fur akin to a nightlight in the ink of twilight. They were alive. That's all that mattered. And.. the cat he knew to be his next target, a pelt as plain as the moon, was healthy and on all four legs.
His plan would still be enacted.
At first, there was the cruel twist in his stomach of guilt. Of not being there to save his children, of not being there to help them. Jackal swears he isn't a bad tom, you know- father to a few, keeping a watchful eye on some of them. Clay was one that escaped, the bundle of fur that Hazel had tossed to the wind long before he had an option on taking her over. He remembers coming home in a fit of rage, finding his only daughter (at that time,) gone, tossed to rogues. He left Hazel at that point, the food in his mouth only for him and the bitter taste in his soul becoming cold like ice.
His other two children, then- a soft kittypet with all allure had roped him in before long. Jackal had been fended off by the owners before long, but he had watched, faithful, aware, as the two were raised in the mouth of a warm home. Then they were abandoned, and Riverclan swept them up before Jackal could get to them. That had made him angry, hateful. So he trailed those two, watching how they were integrated and- from beyond the border, he watched an ever-familiar bundle of orange fur, dappled chocolate, make patrols and rounds. His heart hurt seeing that.
Clay had grown up, stronger then him, and with a gaze as cold as ice. Scars circled her, marked her as a warrior, one deserving of her station now. Some of his heart had begin to thaw then, but... no, nothing had changed. Riverclan had his offspring. He wanted them back. Jackal had begun to plan then, knowing where all three were- he was going to make them come with him. Freedom was something paramount to that of a clan's safety. This he knew.
Regardless of this, seeing the flood tear across the territory had him holding his breath, wishing upon his children's safety. He knew better then to falsify hope. He had made himself at home in the least-scouted corner of the territory after that, sharply aware, doing what he could to get close without letting his scent be known, traversing deep at night. He caught flashes of her then, Clay's fur akin to a nightlight in the ink of twilight. They were alive. That's all that mattered. And.. the cat he knew to be his next target, a pelt as plain as the moon, was healthy and on all four legs.
His plan would still be enacted.
┌── ALL YOU HAVE TO DO
⋅❁⋅
IS GET RID OF ME! ──┐
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"speech"
// plz do not respond! a true oneshot :) -
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JACKAL he/him, rogue, sixty eight moons.
⭃ LH red tabby with piercing green eyes and a maine coone descendancy. smug, very sure of himself, littered with scars.
⭃ ex mate to hazel and npc / / father to claythorn,redacted, redacted
⭃ peaceful and healing powerplay permitted / / underline and tag when attacking
⭃ penned by dallas ↛ dallasofnines on discord, feel free to dm for plots.
