Jun 7, 2022
( ᴛᴀɢs. )  ❝  Sittin' around camp had never truly suited Hound– he was a creature of action, of motion. When he was not hunting, he was patrolling. If not either'f those, he found something else. Training Lake, or fixing up dens. Something, anything. Now it seemed that there'd be nothing of the sort. He could barely even walk with his shoulder all torn up. Already he's mourning the mobility, and it'd barely been a few days. It'd been worth it, though. That's what he tells himself. He thinks of the young ones that'd've suffered or died without him there. Then he mourned this uselessness a great deal less.

Having limped himself to a patch of sunshine earlier in the morning, the warrior now sat with verdant eyes closed and his tail gently tapping against the smooth ground of RiverClan's camp. Though it seems that sleep had not quite claimed him as of yet, he's relaxing for what might be the first time in moons. The bared wound on his shoulder is far less intimidating through Beesong's care, and with it sun-warmed and bound, it barely seems to trouble him at all. Only when he yawns and stretches all paws out, claws flexing into the air, does a wince begin to cross Houndsnarl's still-restful face. If he's to do anything today but lie around, it'll have to be a gentle task. Then again, he supposes there's nothing wrong with just...resting. Odd as it may feel.

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  • ──── houndsnarl. trans male, he/him pronouns.
    ──── approximately 30 moons old, or 2.5 years.
    ──── bisexual with firm male preference; single.

    ──── a chocolate tabby with ( stylized ) low white and intense lime eyes. lean and lanky,  with whiplike musculature and a long, quick stride. hound's notable features include his impressive height, the long scar across the left side of his face from nose to jaw, his very deep, dense fur, and the confident manner with which he conducts himself.
  • "speech"

When Houndsnarl returned to camp with those apprentices, bearing wounds harsh crimson and deep as if hate itself licked his skin with blades for a tongue. The sight was horrific, and Dogteeth had been frozen and staring- heart lodged in his throat when the clan surrounded him and ushered him to the medicine den.

‘he could’ve died’ , repeating itself a bitter mantra of darkness swollen in his heart. Dogteeth felt a desire to coddle the big brute, hold him in his arms and shelter him from all danger. Only it was futile- Dogteeth wasn’t the best protector, and on the scale of intimidation he’s as scary as a dormouse. Any match for Houndsnarl, was beyond what Dog could handle- but he’d try, dammit he would.

Spotting Hound resting, well- what a sight to behold. Dogteeth hums, ' won't be long before he's restless ', he thinks to himself with the smallest of frowns.

A grimace of sorts, a twinge of the chocolate tabby’s face and the LaPerm is trotting over to the resting heap of herb scented feline. " careful you- …you…lughead " he’s not good at insults, lighthearted or otherwise as he searches his sights over the injuries for any disturb from Hound’s stretch. " you know- I have half a mind to ask Cicadastar to demote you to kit… that way- y’know…" I can mollycoddle you to death, he thinks but- doesn’t say of course.

" you don’t go fight bears or something " he huffs but he can’t fight the small smile Hound’s presence always brought to his maw. Lifting a paw, he aims to plop it gently but comically between the massive cat’s ears .


✵ ღ ☾ IT TOOK ME BY SURPRISE - Walking around with a bandage stretched across one’s face, from the top of their right eye to the bottom of their left cheek, was unsurprisingly not the most convenient thing.
She was still bruised up, but able to move around enough to make her way around camp. The question of whether she had truly processed the whole situation was simple- absolutely not.
You… lughead.
The rather poor insult was hardly loud enough to catch the blue tabbies attention, but she turned her head anyhow, squinting against the suns glare to notice Dogteeth standing over her mentor.
❝ Maybe you should leave the trash talk to me from now on ❞ she hummed as she approached, settling beside her injured mentor, who she now turned her own attention to.
She couldn’t say much without being a hypocrite, but she wouldn’t know what she would have done if Houndsnarl had lost his life saving those kits.
❝ My scar is gonna be cooler than yours, old man. ❞ She claimed, joining in on Dogteeths gesture and attempting to place her own forepaw on top of his sand-washed.
Stop being a damned hero.
❝ Speech. ❞


Although she too should have been resting from her own injuries, which weren't as bad as Lakepaws or Houndsnarl, the girl still went to do her duties, luckily for her the injury wasn't bad and yet she knew it will scar over, and she shifted grabbing a fat salmon from the freshkill pile, heading over towards the three before gently sitting it down in front of the three with a warm smile on her maw while her tail swished and a worried look danced in her bi-colored eyes. "Its good to see you guys out and about, how are you both feeling? And hello Dogteeth, how is Peachkit?" she would asked warmly. When she had found Lakepaw injured like that, she had panicked, she had wished she could of done more, and she felt her claws dug into the ground below her.

Frostpaw forced herself to keep a warm smile but when Lakpaw had said her scar would be cooler she wanted to badly tell her that it wasn't a competition and what if she or Smokethroat had not been there fast enough? Her tail twitch in irritation but she quickly shook her head before looking up at Houndsnarl "Thank you for saving Raccoonpaw, Citruspaw, and Forestkit, I didn't get the chance to say that to you but uhm if you're feeling restless maybe we can help enforce the dens together? Use the cattail fluff for insulation since leaf-bare won't be long. Would you two want to also join in on that offer?" she would asked warmly, since she was sure they were bored out of their minds and it would give them something to do as well as have Dogteeth not try to coddle poor Houndsnarl like a kit, though the thought of it was quite amusing.
"If Cicadastar demotes everyone who gets themselves hurt, we would be overrun by kits," Beesong's half-joking voice chimes in after Dogteeth, sunken eyes watching Houndsnarl closely as the warrior stretches out and subsequently winces; his wounds are healing well, but Beesong has still instructed him to take it easy. He understands Houndsnarl's listlessness. His own paws are always busy with something, the petite feline buzzing about much like his namesake. However, it would do Houndsnarl no good to have it reopened from exertion.

The day is unusually... peaceful, considering the events of the past moons. The optimistic part of Beesong hopes that it stays this way for a while yet. The cynical part of Beesong thinks that it is the calm before the storm.

Frostpaw suggests that they enforce the dens together, and Beesong hums. "As long as Houndsnarl doesn't push himself-" the small healer shoots the taller warrior a warning look. "-it wouldn't hurt. Better to start preparing early."