pafp blood of the lamb | kit




Tumbling he falls and lands head first into mud. It gets everywhere, seeping into his fur and marring the blood that has already soaked into his pelt. Yet even as the sun begins to crest the horizon he doesn't stop running. He has to, he's a killer. His mind making the situation he thinks he is in more and more irrational as time goes by. He stumbles through heather and tall grass as he tries to stop the tears that continue to flow. The agony of seeing his mother like that forever ingrained into his mind. It's another fall that has him stop, another solid force that causes a different pain that makes him stay where he is. Sobs leave him, shaking his small frame as he struggles to hold on to the world he once knew. It feels more cold now, more empty than it did before. Shaking himself he tries to get up but the pain of his sprained limb makes him lay back down, hidden for the moment within the tall grass. He doesn't think he can call out, his throat feels too raw from how hard he has been crying and just trying to breath aches his chest.

So he stays there, curled up and attempting to calm himself. But the image of his mother keeps coming back to him, the way her limbs looked. The way her eyes looked, the way she kept going still and then coming back as if from the dead over and over. Suddenly he ducks his head and covers his mud soaked face with equally mud caked paws. If he never wanted to go on the thunderpath none of this would have happened. His mother would still be here and everything would be fine. But it's his fault that his mother is gone and he has no right, no right to go back to Shadowclan. He'll have to live alone, live by himself and fend for himself. The sheer coldness that seeps into his already cold and wet form makes him feel hollow but what else can he actually do now?

  • Crying
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Dusk knew a thing or two about feeling like things were over. Hell, they'd been over for the bengal before they'd even had time to start. Born to a human with a serious hoarding problem, he'd lived in a locked room with almost two dozen other tomcats for a little over the first year of his life. It was a place where there was never enough to go around and where cats had to do unspeakable things in order to survive, and not even Windclan knew the full extent of his past. They never would, if he had his way. He'd been little more than a walking skeleton the first time his paws touched grass, a ghost of dull copper fur and sunken green eyes that none of the strays or kittypets would go near. It was probably better that way though. There wasn't much socialising that went on in 'the room', and he probably wouldn't have known what to do with any kindness that was shown to him.

But the weeks turned into months, and as they went by Dusk grew strong. He went from eating trash on the streets of the city to hunting mice in the abandoned houses, then rats in the alleyways. By the time he decided that twoleg place wasn't for him, he was already looking more like a cat. Still a little lean, but his eyes were bright and his fur glossy, lanky figure slowly filling out with muscle the more time passed with access to food and proper excersize. That had been when he'd first come to the moors, back when he'd first found Windclan. Moons had passed since then, and from looks alone you'd never assume the copper tomcat had been through anything that traumatic. Tall, muscular, and as healthy as a horse, he now walked the grassy hills as Windclan first Deputy, next in line to lead after Sootstar- but that didn't mean the past hadn't left its scars, both visible and not.

Enclosed spaces, aggression toward the innocent, sickness, cats with stripes and spotting reminiscent to that of his breed. It got under his skin in a way he couldn't explain, defying any logic he tried to hit it with.

And so, of course it was him who found Slitherkit.

He was out with a hunting patrol and had just branched off to try and catch the trail of one of those fat rabbits that had been roaming the hillside lately, when all of a sudden a new scent came to his nose. It was an odd mixture of mud and the thunderpath, the thick fearscent of some cat barely detectable beneath it, and at once his hunt was forgotten as jowls parted to better taste the air. There was a cat nearby, and they weren't Windclan.

It didn't take long for Duskfire to come across the huddled, shivering figure of a small kit curled up in the tall grass, first led by scent and then by the soft sobs and whimpers that carried across the moors. His pace hastened at the realization that it was a kit, suddenly anxious that it belonged to one of the queens back at camp. Surely a kid hadn't managed to get all the way from their camp to the thunderpath though, right? When at last he reached them, calling out a short, "Hello?" as he stalked toward the grass and peered within, he wasn't sure weather to be relieved or not that it wasn't one of theirs. Instead, a small, patched kitten covered in mud lay huddled there.

"Shit, kid." he cursed softly, green eyes softening just a bit at the sight of tear-stained cheeks and a trembling body. "You look like your having a hell of a day. We're gonna get you some help, okay? What's your name?" he asked, trying to make his tone soft and less imposing. Living in a room with a bunch of cats who were hellbent on killing each other over resources hadn't really left him with much time to figure out the whole socializing thing, and he hoped his sudden appearance didn't spook the kit too much. It probably would have been better if Honeytwist or Ivoryflight had found the child, both having a far more bright and comforting vibe, but Duskfire wasn't about to leave them out here just because another cat could have done the job better.

windclan warrior - male - 18 months - homosexual - polyamorous - single - tall, strong bengal tomcat
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He wants to go home. But he knows he can't go back, he's a fugitive now. Is that the word? Whatver it is he is tired and he shakes from the cold. His leg hurts so bad and he tries to stretch it with a small whimper leaving his muzzle. Things seem calm until he suddenly hears paws approaching him and he lets out a soft cry as another cat shows themselves. He doesn't know them and he definitely has never seej them before. Struggling a little to sit up he sniffles a bit trying to think like a big cat would. If this tom was goijg to hurt him it's not like he can do anything about it. He's smaller and his leg hurts too bad to run.

The guy doesn't seem like he is going to do that and offers help? Yeah he does need help and he shifts his paws, lifting up onto three legs to hobble closer to Duskfire. "I-I appreciate help. My leg, it hurts. A-and name is Slither." He doesn't say the last part. He doesn't want him to know about the awful thing he did. He lifts a muddy paw to try and rub at his face. Exhaustion has drained him but at least he isn't in trouble yet.

A child, not much older than her own kits, in a muddy puddle by her deputy. She watches the scene unfold from blades of grass her figure had now pushed back, listening for a few moments before padding forward. She opens her maw, aiming to take in the other's scent but she hardly picks a thing up... aside from the stale scent of smoke. She doesn't think too much off it, the land everywhere carried the stench of smoke since ShadowClan's fire.

Sootstar cranes her neck downward so that she is gazing upon the child, "Where do you come from child? Who looks after you?"




Dusk was relieved when the other didn't start panicking. He hardly knew how to deal with someone who was level-headed let alone someone who was emotionally compromised. Not that he thought the kit wasn't- surely whatever they'd gone through had been an ordeal- but they were responsive and compliant, slowly hobbling toward him on three legs and introducing himself as Slither.

"Well your in luck, Slither," he offered, glancing around to see if any of his patrol was nearby to help and finding nobody. "I've got a couple of friends called Honeytwist and Dandelionpaw, and they're both really good at fixing injuries. I'm sure they can help you, and we can get you a warm nest to rest in and some prey to eat too, how does that sound?"

He didn't really know what sort of things kits liked or how he was supposed t convince this one that it was okay to come with him, but he knew at that age Dusk would have done anything just to feel some comfort and security, and he was hoping the basics would be enough. He would have to get a patrol out here to find the kids parents because Sootstar definitely wouldn't want them wandering the moors looking for their kit.

Speaking of.

Dusk turned as the shecat suddenly appeared, green eyes widening in surprise. He'd been so concentrated on the mud-covered kitten that she'd managed to sneak up on him, and at her words he would nod, helpfully adding. "I can send some cats out to help look for whoever you got separated from. My name's Duskfire, by the way." he added, since Slither had bothered to introduce themselves.

windclan warrior - male - 18 months - homosexual - polyamorous - single - tall, strong bengal tomcat

There is a nervous energy about him, anxious and keyed up. Truly he isn't sure if things will go well or not but he knows he doesn't want to turn around and go back. Perhaps he can just stay here and he supposes lying is the only way he can possibly do that. He's sure if he tells where he came from, truly where he came from things will be really really bad. His ears pull back against his skull as another cat comes forth and asks him questions. Questions he doesn't really want to answer and he looks away from the woman, unease in his stomach. His maw parts to speak but then the nice tom is speaking up and he forces himself to look at him. Honeytwist and Dandelionpaw? They sound like clan names to him. Is this a clan? He blinks his eyes looking back and forth between the two before he shifts on his three legs a little bit. If this is a clan then surely he can fit in. Surely. For a moment he finds
a shred of hope, small and fleeting as he shivers there.

"I-I....I'm alone. mom she....she..." Visions of the scene plays in his head. The way she gurgles and gasps on her own blood. Lungs filling with it, her flank heaving. Blood everywhere and he starts to cry again. He sees everything and relives it like a new nightmare all over again. "We were trying to-to and she...she, a monster it was so big." Drops of tears fall from his mismatched colored eyes and onto the ground before he takes in a trembling breath in. "We just wanted some place. Just a h-home and now, she's not..." She's not here. She's not going to be her again. He almost feels like he's going to be sick having to lie, having to say things but it's for his own good isn't it?

As if summoned by his name the sepia point apprentice appears not too far behind Sootstar herself, his mouth is full of marigold and his mismatched eyes are wide as he spots the filthy kitten before Duskfire with the dejected tone and watery voice, his story ringing of a parent who was most likely long gone given the description given. The thunderpath was cruel, he had heard murmurs of a patrol finding the bits and pieces of an unfortunately unlucky soul that had been battered by the heinous beasts, he had been too uneasy to see for himself at the time but the blood stains were still there. The kitten shares the same strange eyes he does and moves with an unatural gait, quickly revealed by the limb he keeps tucked up close to himself aand allows no pressure to bare down upon it. Broken, sprained, infected laceration? He can't tell at a glance with all the mud but his marigold bundle is quickly dropped to be retrieved later as he creeps forward, "Howdy, lil'fella-ah'm Dandelionpaw! Ye got nice eyes, big fan o'them! Heard ye hurt yer leg? If ye let Duskfire give ya a lift back to our camp we can get ye cleaned up and take a look at it!"
Dandelionpaw made no commentary on the lost mother, the lost home, the tearfully guilt ridden words, he put his chipper voice on and tried to distract instead-knowing that the older cats would be sending out a patrol to figure out what exactly had happened.
He was thanking his lucky stars Slither, as he'd overheard his name being, was a child-otherwise he would have been left in this puddle to fend for himself most likely. At the very least, WindClan upheld those morals and he was glad for it.