- Oct 17, 2022
- 489
- 85
- 28
They are well into Leaf-fall by now, and Snakeblink finds himself waiting for the turn of season with more wistfulness than trepidation for once. The same well-worn anxiety remains: Leaf-bare means less prey, worse weather, sickness and a chill that burrows deep into his bones. He starts worrying about all this as soon as his fur starts to shed in preparation for its winter coat — something he’s still dealing with currently, coming out of every grooming session with a mouthful of flyaway fluff. But the dangers of the cold moons seem lesser at the moment.
It’s because of the clan, he knows. Prey might burrow and disappear in Leaf-bare, but many warriors mean more cats who can hunt and feed them all. A medicine cat with knowledge of herbs and remedies keeps sickness at bay; a woven den full of sleeping cats keeps the nights warm. There’s safety in numbers: something he's known since his mother brought them to the marsh group, and which only became clearer with Riverclan — the smaller group feels safe like a family, not a colony.
Of course, lessened doesn’t mean gone: Snakeblink still worries, as is his nature. You can take the loner out of solitude, but you cannot take the solitary habits of fear out of him. Now, though, instead of being overwhelming, the thoughts of hardships to come feel… manageable. Further away.
How can he worry when things have been going so well, and the river is so beautiful at this time of year? The banks are heavy with fog and burning crimson and gold with trees shedding their own pelt. Here, within hearing range of camp but a little off the main path in and out of it, watching the water glitter with pale daylight, he truly feels at peace with the coming change.
As he tilts his head back to watch a bright orange leaf dancing in the wind, something whizzes past Snakeblink’s head and bounces off the ground. He whirls around, spooked, to find…
A pinecone.
Snakeblink huffs a laugh at his own reaction. He nudges the pinecone with his paw, and it rolls a little, riffling through the grass like a particularly clumsy vole. He nudges it again, entranced. After all… why not? It’s been a while since he last took the time to have fun.
“That was unwise of you,” he purrs dramatically, circling around the pinecone. “You see… With anyone around, you could have persuaded a small fragment of mercy out of me. But it’s so easy to get away with murder, if you do it right. And you just happened to try and come at me without any witnesses around…”
Crouching low, Snakeblink stares down the pinecone as if it’s his mortal enemy, come to assassinate him. Visualizing this traitor in his mind's eye, he pounces, rolling in the grass and digging his claws into its wooden shell, threatening it of a thousand deaths as he goes.
It’s because of the clan, he knows. Prey might burrow and disappear in Leaf-bare, but many warriors mean more cats who can hunt and feed them all. A medicine cat with knowledge of herbs and remedies keeps sickness at bay; a woven den full of sleeping cats keeps the nights warm. There’s safety in numbers: something he's known since his mother brought them to the marsh group, and which only became clearer with Riverclan — the smaller group feels safe like a family, not a colony.
Of course, lessened doesn’t mean gone: Snakeblink still worries, as is his nature. You can take the loner out of solitude, but you cannot take the solitary habits of fear out of him. Now, though, instead of being overwhelming, the thoughts of hardships to come feel… manageable. Further away.
How can he worry when things have been going so well, and the river is so beautiful at this time of year? The banks are heavy with fog and burning crimson and gold with trees shedding their own pelt. Here, within hearing range of camp but a little off the main path in and out of it, watching the water glitter with pale daylight, he truly feels at peace with the coming change.
As he tilts his head back to watch a bright orange leaf dancing in the wind, something whizzes past Snakeblink’s head and bounces off the ground. He whirls around, spooked, to find…
A pinecone.
Snakeblink huffs a laugh at his own reaction. He nudges the pinecone with his paw, and it rolls a little, riffling through the grass like a particularly clumsy vole. He nudges it again, entranced. After all… why not? It’s been a while since he last took the time to have fun.
“That was unwise of you,” he purrs dramatically, circling around the pinecone. “You see… With anyone around, you could have persuaded a small fragment of mercy out of me. But it’s so easy to get away with murder, if you do it right. And you just happened to try and come at me without any witnesses around…”
Crouching low, Snakeblink stares down the pinecone as if it’s his mortal enemy, come to assassinate him. Visualizing this traitor in his mind's eye, he pounces, rolling in the grass and digging his claws into its wooden shell, threatening it of a thousand deaths as he goes.
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— Snakeblink • he / him. 34 ☾, riverclan warrior
— a sleek, skinny tabby with long ears and a scar over his right eye.
— gay, not actually evil, penned by @Kangoo
