all work and no play & . sharing prey

[MARROWPAW]

tw for light gore!

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──⠀ ﹙†﹚⠀MORTIS ⠀: ⠀ the boy has been made an apprentice. he’s disgusted. that same bitter feeling of anger still builds upon his ribs, bursting flame beneath a heaving sternum and yet all he has done is remain silent — not a word has been uttered since that day. when turtlenose plucked him from the ruins of his mothers corpse and held him aloft, his limbs hanging below and the same thousand - yard stare clinging to the depths of dull orange eyes. orange like the sky, alight with former flame and ash and fury. he has risen from the apprentices den, which he had only just moved to, with an annoyed flourish — silent as ever, brooding a quiet, brimming anger. on his way towards a particularly shadowy area of their marshland camp he plucks a bird from the freshkill pile ; rotting just barely, soon to be whisked away and buried haphazardly with the dirt behind camp. the dark tom settles beneath a patch of briar and jutting thorn, avian between alabaster paws, glaring downward in contempt.

he wonders where ghostkit — -paw is, wonders if he knows why starclan had plucked the lives from his mother like he does now. a slow pull, tug, rip of feather after feather, exposing the pale flesh beneath. a thrush ; stringy and tough, yet still a delicacy amongst the lizard and toad. he wishes it were a toad. the slimy, bumpy - texture and satisfying resistance of too - thick flesh against too - sharp teeth. the bird before him is naked, skin sagging and ugly and he does not yet take a bite. instead, ivory paws lift, bapping lazily at a tiny, beaked skull — it flops with the movement, loose at the killing bite severing it’s thin neck. he has no appetite despite the searing pain in the pit of his belly. he thinks about ghostpaw again, and how smart he’d been, months ago in the nursery. he knew what death was, spoke of it in haunting tones and marrowpaw hadn’t listened ; but then again, marrowpaw never listened.

his ears angle downward, flopping hard onto his side and batting at the thrush a little more, the fur along his spine bristling with energy. pupils slit, tail lashing. stupid bird. he wasn’t going to eat this.

suddenly, he sits up. spotting the nearest feline, he makes a sound — a spat of a hiss, to catch their attention, followed by a nudge of a paw against his chosen prey. said movement fully decapitates the thrush, it’s body battered and plucked, but still . . edible. the bicolor looks at them, expectantly, despite the way he’s bristling. share?

out of character information

• 
  − marrowpaw ; he / him. apprentice of shc, son of briarstar and amber
  − longhaired spiky black tom w low white & sunburst orange eyes
  − four months old, penned by antlers
  
  

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[ravenpaw x]

would you do anything for me?

As ever, Ravenpaw watched as stormed toward the fresh kill pile. Their hearts were in the same place, though they expressed it differently. His anger filled every moment he made, it overflowed from him, spilled from his mouth in frustrated little sounds and noises. Marrowpaw's temper was hot to the point of boiling. All the world was made aware of his grief.

In contrast, her anger was cold as ice. Even more than usual, she had receded. No longer did she intervene to condescend or trick. Instead she merely watched bitterly. It was impossible to notice the rage that filled her, it was hard enough to notice her at all. She kept to the sidelines, to the shadows. Since her mother's death, she had spoken precious little. There were few, in her mind, worthy of anything she had to say to them. Ravenpaw simply watched and judged them all, letting her frustrations stew and build.

For Marrowpaw, she could spare no such scorn. Even though the way he batted the thrush and hissed at her was childish, that did not bother her. He deserved to be childish, if that was his wish. She pulled herself over to him, taking her half of the thrush.

"Thanks." She muttered vaguely in his direction. Of all people, he, of course, was still deserving of her time.​

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[BONERIPPLE]

The death of her sister has run rampant through their family. The kids, without both of their parents are seen as orphans. But no, she will not let that be so. She had never had kits of her own to learn about how to raise them but she does want the best for them. She wants the best for all of them. Taking a deep breath in she makes her way towards the two, taking time to gentle brush her tail against Ravenpaw who takes some of the thrush for herself. Marrow does mot communicate in words anymore, merely in sounds and motions and she feels a sadness at this. One that is cold and deep. Things seem so sour these days, so beat up. She doesn't know if she can fix it. She is not Briar. She has never been anything but in her sister's shadow.

Just as Sootstar said. And she's been comfortable there. Now responsibility is staring at her and she is no more than a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Shaking her head she breaths out before settling down upon the ground with them. Her tail curling against her paws as she gazes at the thrush. "How are the both of you doing? You know...you need to keep yourselves up and moving. Leaffall is here and we need to work hard together."​

 

[Starlingheart]

Don't look Starlingkit. That's what the adults had said to her as they blocked her view. Don't look, but she had seen. Just a glimpse. Enough. It would haunt her nightmares for moons to come and she had only caught a glimpse. She could not imagine what Marrowpaw was going through. He who had to bear witness to their mother's sudden passing, her brutalization. It had certainly changed him, had changed every one of her brothers and sisters, a large lot of them there was, and each and every single one of them was not how she remembers them.

It saddens her, tugs at her heartstrings to see Marrowkit and Ravenkit, now Marrowpaw and Ravenpaw so downcast, so silent. But there is nothing she herself can do. Words alone could not fix a broken heart, and she doubts hers especially would help at all. Mumbling and incoherent as they are she reserves speaking for when she is feeling especially brave. Perhaps Auntie Bone had an herb to fix them, their hearts, and her speech. Perhaps it was out there and she just hadn't found it yet. She wills her silently to try harder, to bring her brother and sister back to her.

She pads quietly up to them. "C-ca-can I h-h-h-ha-have so-some?" she stutters out, looking down upon the thrush. She doesn't want to eat it, not truly. She just wants to be close to them. Their nearness a comfort reminding her of the times they had spent in the nursery, pressed together in a nest just a little bit too small. Happier times. ​

 

[GRANITEPELT]

Granitepaw is about to keep walking by, pointedly ignoring Bonejaw, Marrowpaw, and Ravenpaw, but Starlingpaw's presence gives him reason to pause and see what the commotion is.

Commotion is really a strong word for it. Granitepaw wrinkles his nose at the mess Marrowpaw has made of the bird, and in turn the gray and white apprentice gives Ravenpaw a derisive look. "You're going to eat that thing after he played with it and did StarClan knows what to it? Ick."

He turns his burning green gaze onto Starlingpaw, raising a metaphorical brow. "I can get you something better. A little less," he says pointedly, out of the corner of his mouth, mangled."
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PENNED BY MARQUETTE​