- Sep 11, 2022
- 52
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➵ There's an explanation for this. A reasonable explanation.
The camp is bathed in a soft pink sunset, the day's work done, and Clearsight finds himself enjoying a plump fish dinner. Though newleaf is upon them, many of RiverClan's warriors still look (and feel) like drowned rats after the harsh, wet winter, all skin and bones and scraggly fur and exhaustion. Lots of exhaustion. Consistent access to food still feels like a novelty, so still they work to the bone for whatever they can catch. Some more than others, maybe.
And maybe Clearsight's a little further toward the exhausted end of the spectrum than he normally is, having picked up an extra patrol this afternoon instead of the nap he really needed. Flaxen eyes dull and distant, fighting back a yawn, he leans down to take another bite of his salmon, and, uh ... he misses.
He completely misses. He gets a mouthful of sand. Worse than that he actually chews for a few seconds before awareness hits him hard enough to stop.
What the fuck...?
That isn't salmon.
He opens his mouth. Sand falls out. He stares down at the sand. The sand that was just in his mouth.
"That's terrible," he murmurs, thinking suddenly, obviously, of Clayfur. "There ... were no upsides to that at all." He's not sure if he expected there to be upsides, but Clayfur does it often enough that — well — well. Frowning, Clearsight leans down and licks the sand again, just to be sure. Yes ... definitely terrible.
... uh, he hopes no one saw that.
& we've all got battle scars ✗