ATOMS AND LOW SELF-ESTEEM,
IS THAT ALL THAT I'M GONNA BE ?
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periwinklebreeze ❀ 28 moons ❀ demi-boy ❀ windclan lead warrior
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There is a moment here Periwinklebreeze thinks to be mad - anger welling up at the words that catch his ear from the patrol he has turned his back upon. With each moment that passes, he and Sootspot seem to butt heads more and more - tentative friendship soured by ambitions and choices that he lead warrior would make again and again even if given a second chance. And yet, as the sound of teeth clattering feels his ears and body shivers violently, the anger has all but fled him.
Gravelsnap had been right to fear for his mates saftey - and Sootspot had been right, to think that this mission might be the death of him.
Wind rages violently - more harsh then any storm the tom has ever known, buffeting pale coat and knocking him back and for with each pawstep he braves. And yet even as blood fills his mouth and pain flares across his tongue and cheeks, he pushes one - placing one paw after the other as he continues blindly onwards.
The world has long since turned dark - the silvery-white so bright it'd nearly blinded him that morning now a haze of grey and shadows even as he squints. Not even starclans light shines through the haze - no moon or stars to guide him through the storm or help light his path. Jaws part again - more of a gasp then a proper breath as he desperately searches for something, anything, amidst the snow drifts.
And yet, he refuses to turn back - to turn tail, and return to camp empty-pawed. When snow clings to his limbs in clumps, he takes momentary shelter wherever he can - in the maw of a tunnel he can't fit fully in, or beneath the shelter of the few scattered trees that make up the border. None of it helps - the cold sinking in bone-deep until it almost feels hot, coat fevered.
He's nearly given up - surrendered to his fate, to the mounds of snow that only continue to pile up, when he sees it at last. One poor, pitiful creature - ambling along just as awkwardly as himself, a streak of off-white against the haze. Its not a graceful catch - limbs refusing to move properly as he bounds forward, the creature skittering across snow-slick ground and stumbling just as much, but it ends in a flood of red against white.
Lungs heave and a cough slips past jittering teeth, and for a moment he is relieved at the feel of warmth - even if it comes from the rabbit held down by blackened paws, body rapidly cooling beneath him. Tonight, at least, his efforts were not in vain - one rabbit is one more then they'd had before, another queen and her kits who can eat or another warrior who can save some strength. Jaws carefully wrap around his catch - gentle and tender, despite the spasms that threaten to flood his aching figure - turning his back upon the forest and begining his long trek home.
━ actions & " speech, " & 'thoughts/quotes' ━
W H A T -D O E S - M Y -L I F E -E V E N -M E A N ?
// Health: 14 | Encounter: 18 | Prey: 17 | Size: 10
Points Earned: 2
Outcome: Whitecough (+Frostbite from previous thread)