emptiness inside our heads - larchtuft

[Thorn]

A puffball of orange and white, scars lacing down his left shoulder. deep, opponent vicious; but he was no different. He had killed in order to survive, and he'll do it again.

He had no opinion against riverclan, but his sister did. And he wanted to bring her a reward for her triumphant battle he had heard about. And possibly, maybe even a riverclanners skull.

Hed do anything just to see a smile trail across her scarred muzzle.

Amber gaze rested on the riverclanner, watching them catch a fat mouse. No patrol was seen with him, at least not that he could notice. A slow blink as they began to dig to bury the prey, before diving forward, his large body attempting to collide into his. Claws outstretched, he'd immediately attempt to dig into the others flank, and bite whatever he could in a surprise attack.

@Larchtuft

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[Larchtuft]

The rogues were troublesome, to say the least. They had cost RiverClan a great deal of late, including what Larchtuft felt were the basic pleasures and comforts of Clan life - the sense of safety in one's nest at night, the ability to roam across the territory without constantly looking over one's shoulder. He forced himself to keep his head forward as he went hunting, pursuing scent-trails and flickers in the reeds with characteristic determination. Noble (or foolish) as his resolution to not give in to the whispering voice of anxiety in the back of his mind, it would soon backfire upon him: just before depositing his catch in the hole he'd dug, a sudden weight collided hard into his body.

A yowl of shock and pain came tearing from Larchtuft's maw as he and his attacker tumbled to the ground. The unfamiliar scent of the ginger-and-white tom enveloped him and set his heart hammering as he wriggled helplessly in Thorn's grasp. Pain erupted into fiery blossoms along his flank as claws tore through his striped coat, as he felt teeth sink into the fleshy scruff of his neck. "You fox-heart!" he bellowed - half in rage and half in fear - twisting beneath Thorn and attempting to shake the ginger-pelted rogue loose. "LET GO OF ME!"​

 

[Thorn]

"Make me," he giggled, a chortle coming from a throat. As if telling a funny joke, which it honestly kind of was.

Being called a fox heart was not something that affected him. He cared about others, his heart was not barren of emotions, he was not usually vicious. But he wanted something from this fella- and he would give it to thorn. he had no choice at this point.

the tom shook, and the orange tabby decided on his own free will to jump off the other and begin to circle the silver tom. "It was a wonderful catch you did, ya know. but I want it. so you can hand it over, and I'll leave you be! sound good?" He asks, circling around the other like a vulture. a trade was far nicer.

but, he still had hidden intention in those words. for he still wanted the riverclanners pelt. he knew with how stubborn they were the other would attack, so he kept a careful eye on the other.

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