smogstar
STARVED VULTURE.
Under no means should this be a matter of contention, and a relieved groan (it isn't a very pleasant sound, mind you) rattles from his chest when the notion is baulked at. Hampering their efforts for the sake of one mangled apprentice, wagering the well-being of one against the health of many. It was ignorant to the high stakes they're playing with, and such a decision would prove disastrous in terms of comparative benefit. Flamewhisker, perhaps, could be afforded a shrivel of pity, seeing how her ill-founded line of logic stemmed from some measure of motherly distress. However, that did not grant her the power to set the terms going forward.
Put in her position, where he'd have to weigh his kin's safety against the betterment of all, would his perspective remain unchanged? The presumption prods at his judgement as he clears his throat to speak, sparking hesitation. He supposes it wouldn't. His world found its purpose in the security of his family, and he, too, would act with similar consideration for their survival.
Difference is, he'd never expose his offspring to the perils of this mission. The same cannot be said about the ThunderClan molly.
A soured scrunch of the muzzle acknowledges Magpiepaw's decision. Orangeblossom's presumption that the medicine cat apprentice belonged out in the mountains, rather than camp where his assistance was required, seemed misguided. The apprentice himself, however, resigns himself to this - mounting the burden on ShadowClan even further. It was now up to four of them, rather than five, to deliver a clan's worth of lungwort when they needed it most. His vision stalls on the inkspill feline, and then on SkyClan's deputy, before he turns to glimpse the broader crowd.
Tail-flourishing, shoulders held firm, Smogmaw circles back to the matter at paw. "All of us, every one of us here, has a role to play in helping their clan recover from Yellowcough. It is our job to see this lungwort delivered, and then distributed. Our kin deserve to be freed from this sickness as soon as possible." His amber gaze sweeps over those gathered. How many family members, friends, mentors, apprentices had each lost so far? "It is honourable to pause your efforts and help Stormpaw," he continues, "but unwise to delay our mission because of one. If splitting up is what must happen, then let it be so."
The deputy's attention then pursues the forms and outlines of his clanmates in the crowd, traces of urgency, desperation aglow in his eyes. "All I ask is that my other ShadowClan companions stick with me and head home. We are fewest in number here, and cannot risk splitting off smaller. It's vital that the lungwort - all of our portion - reaches our clan in the coming days."
Put in her position, where he'd have to weigh his kin's safety against the betterment of all, would his perspective remain unchanged? The presumption prods at his judgement as he clears his throat to speak, sparking hesitation. He supposes it wouldn't. His world found its purpose in the security of his family, and he, too, would act with similar consideration for their survival.
Difference is, he'd never expose his offspring to the perils of this mission. The same cannot be said about the ThunderClan molly.
A soured scrunch of the muzzle acknowledges Magpiepaw's decision. Orangeblossom's presumption that the medicine cat apprentice belonged out in the mountains, rather than camp where his assistance was required, seemed misguided. The apprentice himself, however, resigns himself to this - mounting the burden on ShadowClan even further. It was now up to four of them, rather than five, to deliver a clan's worth of lungwort when they needed it most. His vision stalls on the inkspill feline, and then on SkyClan's deputy, before he turns to glimpse the broader crowd.
Tail-flourishing, shoulders held firm, Smogmaw circles back to the matter at paw. "All of us, every one of us here, has a role to play in helping their clan recover from Yellowcough. It is our job to see this lungwort delivered, and then distributed. Our kin deserve to be freed from this sickness as soon as possible." His amber gaze sweeps over those gathered. How many family members, friends, mentors, apprentices had each lost so far? "It is honourable to pause your efforts and help Stormpaw," he continues, "but unwise to delay our mission because of one. If splitting up is what must happen, then let it be so."
The deputy's attention then pursues the forms and outlines of his clanmates in the crowd, traces of urgency, desperation aglow in his eyes. "All I ask is that my other ShadowClan companions stick with me and head home. We are fewest in number here, and cannot risk splitting off smaller. It's vital that the lungwort - all of our portion - reaches our clan in the coming days."
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