✧ . It's a thorn in his side, his efforts — DuskClan's efforts — in this most recent battle of theirs. Though his wounds have been cleaned to the best of his ability, though he's made it out alive, it's hardly been a success, has it? They're still here, the lot of them, sure. But — they're still here.
Here. In harsh territory nothing like the moors they'd worshipped under Sootstar's reign. Here, under a reign no longer her predecessor's either. Where Granitepelt falls, Rumblerain rises. And it's a shame, really, that the Stars fail to see what strength DuskClan could hold in a better light; that they are set on trial, time and time again.
In the silence that surrounds him, the dark tabby lifts a paw, a fool's gold gaze inspecting the fading wounds across it before swiping his tongue over ragged fur. And when quiet breaks and a mouse is dropped at his paws, his head lifts, and a frown pulls at his maw in stark contrast to the sharp-toothed grin he faces.
Possumscratch. Another thorn in his side. Hardly a clan cat, but still fitted with a warrior name sharp as the constant burr the newcomer is to Dustwhisker.
" Oh, " the former WindClanner sneers, " It's you. " A chittering shadow, the tom would rather be speaking with anyone else, but… Possumscratch brings food, and Dustwhisker's stomach is growling. He leans forward to take a bite, and hopes for wind-swept silence to return, for his companion to leave and find someone else to talk to, to bother.
But, mouse for your thoughts, and all. Now that he's taken a bite, the DuskClanner knows he won't get rid of Possumscratch anytime soon. The gray and black tom continues to speak, asks about current events he'd rather not dwell on. A sharp exhale is let out of his nose, and he swallows his bite of prey.
" The Stars have blighted us again, " he says slowly, simply, as if matter of fact. Because they have, and they always will. All StarClan does is take and take and take. " Granitepelt was a good leader — it's a shame StarClan took him away from us so quickly. And Rumblerain… "
Though his interactions with the cat had been few and far between in their WindClan days, he'd been aware of their presence, of their lead warrior mother, their traitorous father. He'd earned his warrior name before the new DuskClan leader had, a fact that makes his head spin if he thinks on it too long. But outside of that… " We can only hope Rumblerain can bring us to a place of strength and power again, I suppose. " Someone will have to.
He pulls his attention away from the mouse at his paws and toward amber eyes still burning into him, a sharp expression still settled on his company's face that leaves Dustwhisker more than ready to swat him away. But he holds back on impulses, digs his claws into the soil beneath his paws.
" … And you? " he asks instead, for he has no other choice, " What do you think? Of all of it? " Of the change of power, of DuskClan.
