private caged wolf || raccoonstripe

[TWILIGHTKIT ⋆]

@RACCOONSTRIPE

Have you heard? Twilightkit observes the hulking figure that is her father, standing over a partially eaten meal, likely dwelling in his own thoughts. Her tail twitches from her station by the nursery, her healing bite wound aching as she tilts her head. Surely Nightbird has told him of her altercation - of how her siblings banded together to protect her (or maybe, instead, he learned of her needing protection at all, no better than a whelp in such a case.) Twilightkit will not bend his ear to ask of his knowledge. A father such as he should have no issue confronting his children, especially his stubborn minded daughter, should he feel they've stepped out of line.

She pulls herself from the cover of the nursery, her gait erring on more graceful as of late. She weaves through ThunderClanners like an adder through tall grass and soon enough, she's before him. (She notices how rapidly she's growing, now. Notices more how his broad shoulders do not show beneath her pelt - nor his strong jaw or pronounced brow. She is sleek, like her mother. Beautiful, if vanity were the topic of the night.)

"Raccoonstripe," she says his name like he's more her superior than her parent. The urge to call him father does not ring with pain, but simply unfamiliarity. "By the time I am an apprentice, the ground will be covered with snow - frozen," she says her peace with precision, evidently due to reciting a perfect and infallible speech for the tom. "I do not doubt your tracking skills, however I would like to see Berryheart's grave before leafbare shrouds it. Could you take me?"
​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

In truth, Raccoonstripe, in his prolonged absences from the nursery, has not heard much about the scuffle his daughter had been involved in. He'd been busy unsheathing his claws against his Clan's enemies, had been busy defending his Clan's honor. He supposes he and Twilightkit have that in common, at least; their matching wounds, their sullied pride.

She approaches him with no less grace than Nightbird would, despite the lack of one foreleg. Her silver pelt ripples like water; how has she grown so sleek, so beautiful, already? Raccoonstripe fixes his gaze on her, the luscious pale fur, the midnight-lattice across her body.

When she speaks, it's not with Tigerkit's inquisitive clumsiness; nor is it with Bayingkit's brashness. Twilightkit is succinct, like their mother. "By the time I am an apprentice, the ground will be covered with snow; frozen." He flicks his ear, waiting for her to continue. "I would like to see Berryheart's grave before leafbare shrouds it. Could you take me?"

Raccoonstripe knows he should say no. He's injured, and so is Twilightkit — and besides, the rest of her littermates would be clambering and throwing a fit if they found out. The tabby's whiskers twitch, and he acquiesces with, "Only if you keep this one a secret. I don't have the energy to listen to your brother and sisters squeal."

He lowers his head just a fraction and brushes his chin over her ebony-crowned head. "Right. It's not too far. And it's been awhile since I've been, too. Stay close to me. That's an order."

The dark tabby and his pallid, elegant escort slip through the gorse tunnel and out into the forest. Leaf-fall is cool, the promise of frost tangling in their thick fur. "It's a pity, you'll all have to learn to hunt in the hardest season," he murmurs. "But it will make you better warriors in the long run."

After a few heartbeats, he fixes his dark gaze on the bitemark Twilightkit wears. "Got your first battle scar, huh?" He smiles. "It won't be your last. Hopefully next time you get to take a bite out of them, too." His children would have heard about his ill-received border skirmish with SkyClan, but he's yet to talk about it with any of them. Part of him is still unsure what he wants them to glean from it.

Before long, they're edging the cemetery, and Raccoonstripe is quick to lead Twilightkit to the mound of earth encasing his brother. He pauses before it. The forest is quiet, here, as though all of their territory pays its respects to those fallen.

"...Here." He lowers his stinging belly to the earth, and, wincing, settles his bulk against the grave, as though to keep his brother warm. "Should've brought him an offering, but neither of us are in any shape to hunt." He smiles again, this time softly. "He was an eater. He'd've picked a piece of prey clean down to the whiskers if Mother wasn't watching."

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — "speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 46 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring Thistlepaw ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
  — thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Nightbird.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.
  
  

​

 

[TWILIGHTKIT ⋆]

A secret, he says, and too easily does his daughter agree with a stiff nod. To bring a kitten out of camp is already a feat frowned on upon by most queens - and though some children may gloat with the opportunity, Twilightkit does not have the want to. She can hold to her victory in the same way she can hold to her scrutiny. If he can make such a promise with her, then who of her littermates have requested some of the same? And furthermore... is she allowed to feel jealous of them when she is reaping the same rewards?

The bite wound over her arm cringes as he motions for them to leave, the brief touch of his chin to her crown offering the smidgeon of warmth she needs to ignore it in its entirety. An order, he says, and she sticks to his side like sap to a tree. She affords no warrior or apprentice a look as she poses as naturally as she can alongside his gait, leaving the tunnel and camp behind. And admittedly, once they've broken free, she takes a moment to look around - the trees are prettier up close. The undergrowth denser, too, even as every branch shakes free of its leaves.

"I think I'll blend in," she comments after a moment, obscuring her moment of distraction with her ears pinning back. "I've been told that snow is... white, like your chest. I'm close enough to it," she weaves around some low hanging branches, cringing as one catches her spine briefly before letting go. Fool, she chides herself for believing to be a natural despite only ever having the rather-clear camp to practice in. She carries on, "The squirrels will not know I'm there," her confidence exudes itself through her careful words.

He notes her scar and she almost ignores his comment, almost offers an affirming nod to avoid it. It was a pathetic display by Howlkit, and to have been grabbed by Gentlestorm at all was torment enough. But Raccoonstripe promises recompense and on impulse, she corrects him; "Howlkit," she says with a cold, verbal slice in the air, "has three narrow marks down its nose now." I hope they never heal, she doesn't say. Its still a Clanmate, after all.

Their mindless chatter brings them to Berryheart's grave. She doesn't have the chance to ask him about his healing wounds, about the truth of what happened - it had seemed like so many cats were upset with him that day... But until he said something to her personally, Twilightkit didn't have the want to trust anyone else's story telling. She tucks the want away as he settles atop a rounded earth, and carefully she picks around it, as if fearful a step atop the grave will crush the body beneath it.

"You've mentioned it," she says, and her voice is softer as she does. Golden eyes flick over the grave for long seconds, and she's not sure what she expected. Would his ghost just appear before her, before them? Would she be able to speak with him and learn of his past? The leaf fall chill pushes her to lean against her father's broad shoulder, "When leafbare comes, we won't have a prey's tail to spare..." Twilightkit is almost sad as she murmurs so, finding in her finally the childish upset that comes with the unknown. Her ears twist back as she murmurs, "Newleaf, then. We will come here and eat mice - whiskers and all," she presses a promise into the dirt, respect and want dancing in her words.​

 

[RACCOONSTRIPE]

Twilightkit walks primly, properly beside him, adhering to his order without protest. The little she-cat gives him a studious amber look and tells him she will blend in with the pending snows. Raccoonstripe's mouth twitches. "True. But the snows are only here for a season. You'll never blend in with the forest shadows the way your sisters and Stormkit will." Twilightkit and Lightningkit both have that inopportunity to look forward too — their fur is so pale, they are like brands of moonlight when moving upon a dark forest landscape.

Still, he has to smile at Twilightkit's easy confidence. It is no question where he'd inherited it from. "But we'll rely on you in leafbare, for sure." He gives her this.

As for the wound she'd received, Twilightkit is swift to correct him: "Howlkit has three narrow marks down its nose now." Raccoonstripe can't help but purr. He lifts a forepaw and rests it gingerly on his daughter's slim shoulders. "Good. Maybe it won't be so quick to use its teeth on you, then. Some lessons have to be learned the hard way, and you should never let anyone, Clanmate or not, set their claws on you." After a moment, he withdraws his paw.

Berryheart's grave is hard and cold under their paws. Twilightkit surveys the dead leaves, the packed earth, and says, "Newleaf, then. We will come here and eat mice - whiskers and all." Raccoonstripe's whiskers twitch with emotion he almost cannot suppress — it is deep, and sudden, and tinged with a longing for his brother, his mother, that almost knocks him off his paws.

You are my family, now. Raccoonstripe comes to sit closer to Twilightkit. His breath plumes — the chill in the air has a bite to it, but their thickening pelts will keep the worst of it at bay. Besides, he's never known Twilightkit to complain about discomfort; she is Nightbird through and through, stoic and stalwart. "This will be my first leafbare without them both," he murmurs. It stings, to know there will be no leisurely naps in the medicine cat's den, his limbs tangling with his littermate's, the spice of his brother's herbs dancing around them. There will be no stalking the snowbanks with Howlingstar, reminiscing about the marshland. Hollow Tree, Little Wolf, Cobwebtail, Jackdawflight, Graystorm — they'd all been taken from him, and now...

He closes his eyes for a moment. Remember the family you have. Yes, the family he has — the one he's created. When he opens his dark amber eyes, he lets them settle on his daughter. "But it will be my first leafbare with you. We'll have to make sure it's a good one. As good as it can be, anyway." He flashes his teeth in a half-convincing smile.

『 out of character. 』 ✧･ﾟ:* 『 about. 』

• ooc: —
• 
• Raccoon . Raccoonstripe, he/him w/ masculine terms.
  — "speech”, thoughts, attack
  — 46 moons old, ages realistically on the 5th.
  — mentored by n/a ; mentoring Scarletpaw ; previously mentored Wildheart, Moonwhisper
  — thunderclan lead warrior. gray wolf x howlingstar, gen 2.
  — currently mated to Nightbird.
  — penned by Marquette.
  
  
  lh black tabby with white and dark brown eyes. charismatic, charming, calculating, ambitious, shallow, manipulative.
  
  

​